Life On Two Wheels

Faux Hare

2010-03-02T15:00:00.000-08:00

In the midst of the morning a light fog hung over the prairie. A rabbit scurried from its burrow and amongst the bushes. The hunter laid in wait for his moment. The bush was prime with due and fungi. The rabbit lathered itself within and grew fat and pompous and left its bush a king, thinking only of himself. He walked with a strut, the rabbit of the prairie. As he made his way to his burrow he thought of his flight to royalty and the path that he now must take. For he had weighed his past and decided the life of his pitiful predecessor, the rabbit who had gone in search of food by day, was the life of the miserable and paltry, those of which he was not. The rabbit walked upright and astute and in a manner not befitting a rabbit. The hunter took aim. The clear joviality of the creature that his eyes locked on was a meal in and of its own. It had meant days of searching for the fox; the wilds of the woods was meant for only the keenest of creatures and as the days past and meals grew scarce it was clear that only the best of hunters would survive. The fox used its cunning in searching for its next meal, it found tracks and smelt sticks before un-smelt. The fox was one of craft and wiles. Perhaps he wasn’t the strongest fox in the forest, but he was more determined and more persevering in his hunt, he knew he must eat and he searched throughout the forest and made it an art, he was a fox of ruse, he did what foxes did best and in doing so came clad with the preparation and discipline the other foxes lacked. In the culmination of the moment and in one deft swipe the fox knocked the rabbit from its roost, dethroning ignorance and the unbecoming behavior of the wretched. The fox in the true wiles of instinct feasted on the rabbit and in doing so righted the rabbit into what he truly was: just a rabbit.

Right here, right now

2010-02-05T15:31:00.000-08:00

Tossa de mar, Catalunya, ESP
1-6-2010

Look out across the med. Feel its magic. Imagine what’s on the other side, who’s on the water, the lives that revolve around the water. Just sit there and listen to it, sit there and look at it. It does something sensational to you. It cures all your problems and worries for a moment. You can sit and think about how perfectly at peace and without constraints you are. You can dream of what the future holds and be content with the past. Viewer discretion advised.

The DL on the 411

2010-01-30T14:00:00.000-08:00

Calpe, Spain
1-30-2010

There’s been a lot going on. I finished the season off in Australia for two weeks. The flight there is absurd; no matter what continent you go from or what class you fly in. What was it? 22 hours? There were a few Starbucks’ in Thailand, but there were some in London too. The plane landed in Thailand, which was nice after 12 hours or so of sitting business. And it gave a great chance to wander about the airport, sample a dozen Americanos at Starbucks and decide that after the two weeks at the Sun Tour I was going to make that 1 hour layover on the way back to Barcelona into 2.5 weeks.
Spending a bit of time in Victoria was interesting. The racing was also interesting. The team cleaned it up pretty good and I went about finishing my season off as well as I could- which was pretty good. I was anxious to leave it behind after it was over though and bounced out to Bangkok the next day. Didn’t really see much of the Australia thing, but honestly it didn’t seem too much different than America. It’s more or less as close to being America/Canada as you can be without being in America.
And then I landed in Bangkok on the return leg. I was upgraded to upstairs on the 747. So… that would put me in 1st class, which made it difficult to sleep as I knew that I was going to sleep really well. Understand? Probably not, and I can’t quite grasp the concept myself. Thailand was interesting. Asia always is. But I wouldn’t go back. The culture is a whole different world and a dollar goes a long way. Yes I did go by myself, and I met some people that were surprisingly nice given I was about as different from them as I could be and I saw a lot of awesome stuff and got an inside look into their culture. And then I left and that was it. I have no plans to return to Thailand or anywhere third world in Asia, if I go back to Asia it will be to Japan, Korea or Hong Kong. But I’ll probably just sit at Waikiki and hit the surf instead. Plenty of Asian influence there anyway.
I went back to Girona after Bangkok by way of London and Barcelona. Those two and a half weeks in Bangkok more or less represented my off the bike time. I did quite a bit of running in the Bangkok smog and third-worldness as I had in anticipation of the running bought a pair of runners in Melbourne as discounted as an Australian dollar would allow for. It had been a long time since I’d done some good running. With the traffic at a standstill in Bangkok I ran down the 6 laners downtown. It made for an easy choice of route and hit the Starbucks mid-trip for an Americano- yes, American style. Upon my return to Europe I continued the running but limited it to once a week and got back on the ride and began to hit the gym again in Girona. I’ve always wondered what it would be like in Spain come winter and this year I got a good feel for it. I stayed late into the year finally deciding to go back to Seattle on the 12th of December instead of the 20th via Lufthansa’s Barcelona-Frankfurt-Seattle route. With a couple weeks remaining before returning to America my brother visited for 2 weeks, representing the first documented visit of immediate family to my apartment in Spain. It was quite pleasant having him there and he seemed to have a fantastic time. Hopefully in the future more visits from the family are to be.
Coming back to America was a shock for me this year. It was a long time since I’d been to America this time and I’d unknowingly become accustomed to the culture and lifestyle of Europe. It didn’t take long to snap back though and the month that I spent home for the Christmas season couldn’t have been better spent than home with the family. When I left I couldn’t suppress the tears inside, and they’re coming again as I recall leaving my mother, brother and father there at the airport ahead of security with my Dad saying “no matter what happens, you know we’ll be right here for you.”
From Seattle I took a British Airways flight with service through London to Barcelona. There was weather at Heathrow in London and the airport closed. I got a room at the holiday inn for the night and caught a 7:45 flight out the next morning into Barcelona where I sat at the carousel for an hour before realizing they’d lost both my bags. With enough travel for 10 people done, I hailed a taxi for the 1:45 drive to Girona. Got a couple 2 hour training sessions done, and the next day rallied with some of the guys and staff from the team and drove the 4.5 hours out to Calpe where we rendezvoused with the rest of the guys at the Hotel Sol y Mar where we’ve trained the past two and a half weeks. The first and probably last time that I will see a lot of my team mates for the rest of the year.
Coming into 2010 I have mixed feelings. I have a contract that isn’t going to resign itself so there is a bit of pressure to perform… and yet I feel more comfortable than I ever have in my position on the team. In Europe, my lifestyle, what I do, what I know, everything I do, is me. It’s not forced on me, or overwhelming as it once was. It’s everything I want and everything I know. It’s me and it’s just going to get bigger. The best thing about it is that I still have to where my shades because even though I’ve accomplished SO much there is much, much more to accomplish, but… now… my lenses TRANSITION to account for the brightness ahead…

The American Dream

2010-01-02T19:27:00.001-08:00

I’m sitting in starbucks. I’m listening to the sounds and watching the people. They don’t care and I don’t know nothing of anyone. The baristas are fake, the people are fools and it’s all for money. Everywhere I go, everything I say, I end up paying. Does it feel real? Do you feel at home as you throw down a dollar? How much longer can you look past the cashier and her artificial smile? How can you continue to agree when it’s so superficial? I can’t, I hate the great world of pretension; the swirling foggy outline of this and that which is true but not, the head numbers, interest rates and credit scores. What is is, and what’s not, is not. Don’t talk to me for the sake of talking. Get your insurance, sell your porsche and buy what you can afford. No one’s fooling nobody. But you are bringing down everybody. I’m going to drink my Americano, but of myself I refuse to opine. What you see is what you get, discard your whims and embrace reality. From now is when the truth begins.

First things first

2009-11-02T11:37:00.000-08:00

Girona, Spain

As I try to piece together what can be made of a desperate grasp at life in Europe I consistently run up against a problem with my land lord this year. At the start of this season I came over specifically with plans so that I could spend the year completely sane in an apartment that I felt comfortable in for the indefinite future. After several weeks of sampling different apartments and speaking with different agencies I found a place that overlooked the city with splendid balconies looking both east and west and furnished to rent with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a garage and everything in between… I even negotiated 50 Euros a month off the price. It was like an apartment dream, bundled into a little apartment present for Christmas. But then in the stocking above the fire or maybe in the fire there was a little flame called Francisco Gil. He is my landlord, and he is infamous and notorious as a hell monger. He pops up at the most inopportune times in an effort to impede anything that could be referred to as “your life.” At first I was sympathetic with his perspective thinking that if I owned an apartment and rented it out I too would be worried and weary of what my tenants were up to. But then he hammered on and eventually I lost my patience with him and began to feel like the poor helpless peasant under the repressive rule of ‘Franco’ the compassionate Spanish dictator. As of late I have made it my mission to overthrow his tyranny, and instead of cowering under his wrath I have had an audience with local authorities and taken my case to despatx d’advocats garriga pradas (attorney- garriga pradas). Not because I prefer to stay any longer in his apartment, but because I feel now that the unyielding nose of his in my life is a complete and total invasion of my privacy as a tenant in any country, and that he ought to feel what it feels like to be held helplessly against his will- whatever that may mean...

The arrival of otoño

2009-09-22T14:38:00.000-07:00

Today I did the routine in the morning; the coffee, the radio, the oatmeal, and noticed that I need to wash my bike. And set about getting ready to spin about outside for 3 hours con bici.
In the elevator nothing had changed. I strolled through the lobby area, and out onto the sidewalk. It was windy. It was breezy. Fall is on the way. Now it is still warm, but the breeze. The breeze in the morning is not normal, and yet it was there and full. I saw a leaf blow by and as I started my training, I noticed more leaves. Brown leaves, brown dead leaves that danced about in the wind. And in the trees I saw more of them, also ready to trade for a new season. I saw them and I was happy. I am ready for a new season; I’m ready for the heat to leave and the brisk clear days to replace them. To ride along the road and feel the wind against my face and to shiver. Summer has been here to long, it’s time for a change. It’s time for summer to relent.

El mundo de todas las personas

2009-08-11T02:49:00.000-07:00

I stop for a moment and I look around. What I see are the people who walk about in the shadow of others; bound by their desire for acceptance, chained in fear of non-conformity. I think about what the world has become. I consider what it means to be happy, the difference between glee and greed. What happened to exercising your temptation and doing what you desire without being bound by popular opinion? I go to the beach in America and I see these people who are smitten by their desire to conform juxtaposed against people who entirely throw conformity to the wind and act solely on their happiness; their feeling of being in good company and having fun regardless of the circumstances. Is this not what everyone ultimately desires? Good friends, people to share their life with? If you have everything in the world and no one to share it with you are the most miserable person in the world.

The white table

2009-05-16T14:10:00.000-07:00

GIRONA, SPAIN

The table that’s white is in our kitchen. It has a tablecloth on it. It’s a perfect size for the balcony. Not too big. Not too small. And it folds out to accommodate up to eight guests. When a balcony in Spain reaches certain proportions it changes from a balcón to a terraza. We refer to both the “front balcony” and the “rear balcony” as terrazas. We put the white table on the “rear balcony.” Moved it from the kitchen and took it right out there; into the sun and elements of the weather. It seemed like a good solution, solving the problem of having no table on the terraza and liberating the kitchen from the unnecessary presence of an ugly white table. For several days we looked down on our neighbors, across and around the park at the other balconies. We saw their tables, the designer tables, the ebb and flow of the feng-shui on their balconies. We looked at them with our noses upturned. We were better. We had a cheap folding table made of wood and coated in a blinding white paint. We had a table that was destined to serve dutifully for years. That evening our landlord called. Put the white table back in the kitchen, it will get soiled out in the weather… Soiled? No, it’s a piece of crap why would it get soiled, and even if it did, who cares? How did he know it was on our terraza? Where does he live? Is he always looking in on us? Steve took his camera and affixed the telephoto lens. He scanned every window in search of the over intrusive landlord.
In slow motion, we brought the table back in. But the rather juvenile thought crossed our minds: to move all the rest of the furniture out on to the terraza.

Of space and time

2009-03-01T22:07:00.000-08:00

Girona, Spain

3/2/2009

There are many sights and scenes that pass by without thought in a day of travel. I think about this as the day passes. But I throw such moments away under the veil of the need to expedite progress towards my gate, platform, etc. In example take yesterday where I traveled for nearly 20 hours; there was not a moment I took yesterday to sit in meditation on the mere absurdity of the idea of going from Seattle to Girona in the space of 20 hours. Instead I took it all in step and treated it like a day in the life that was better forgotten than remembered- essentially a day not lived. Imagine just how much more fulfilling our lives would be if we were able to make each moment memorable. How is it possible that during such an event I am only able to take away that which I found loathsome during my travels. Perhaps it was the preconceived notion that travel is a mere inconvenience and a means to another latitude. Simply something unavoidable and aggravating. On one day there may be a time when travel is a time to look forward to instead of a time to grit your teeth and remember your sleeping pills.

Obsolete design

2009-02-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

Instinct is the subconscious reaction that is used by the Sail-finned Water Dragon in response to attack. It is also the response used by humans in the moments preceding an incident of high trauma. It has been said that humans with very low IQs respond best in high trauma situations based on the instinctual presence in there genes to fend off trauma that is occurring in the moment- much like a Neanderthal. The instinct reaction has abated over centuries past due in a large part to the late predominance of intelligent strategy. In the event that a human equipped with intelligent strategy were to engage a human equipped with subconscious reaction in hand to hand combat, it is almost undeniable that the human with subconscious reaction would win. But a trio of Neanderthals would loose against a trio of modern humans as it would be much like hunting a pack of wolves or lions, even if the Neanderthals had a significant advantage in numbers. In fact, in today’s world most people never see humans with the inability to develop intelligent strategy, as they often don’t reach the forefront of society without being a fluke or used to simulate a situation of ignorance. In reality there is no room for Neanderthals, and there is no room for those who react in the moment with out baring the impact of their actions in mind. In other words, people who act like Sail-finned Water Dragons ought to be thrown into the sea.

"All men can see these tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved."
-Sun Tzu

Life on demand

2009-02-14T17:39:00.000-08:00

Sac-town, Cali
2/13/09

At the Doubletree here in Sac-town there are more busses and rental trucks than when DHL delivers to grand central station. Bikers are everywhere, fools with cameras loiter behind the trees and tempers are flaring. But we need to train and so we escape out onto the streets, within the traffic and disappear from the face of the city- into the ghetto and through the country clubs, along the river and among the river boats. We flash from one suburb to the next and laugh at what’s funny and sneer at what’s not. Some guys want to go hard and some not, but he who goes hard is always ridiculed by the rest; not because he deserves it but because it puts pressure on everyone else to do the same. The most effective way to make a good idea look bad is to tell the guy who made the idea he’s an idiot. But pretty soon someone else thinks his idea’s good too, and he’s off in his trail… one thing leads to another and everyone’s going full and racing all out; ‘cept for that one guy who said the idea was stupid, he’s sitting there watching everyone else ride further into the distance, quite content to sit in the wake and muse with himself whether his legs are indeed as open as he hopes. Then it’s all over and we ride together again, chatting about the flatness of the roads and how Sacramento ranks among the top 10 of the worst places in the world to live. We are distracted by even the slightest change in anything, not because we’re dyslexic, but because we seek contrast in a monotonous four hours of Sacramento countryside. And then were back, into the city among the bridges and towers. Cameras flash, sirens wail, and the bum on the corner asks for a dollar. We thread our way through the buses, trucks and team cars and make our way to our phalanx. We give our bikes to the mechanics and make our way to our rooms. This is life, this is how we live…

189 ainaola drive

2009-01-16T13:35:00.000-08:00

Lying in bed, it’s the low hum of the ceiling fan and the chirp of the tropical birds outside that reminds me I’m 5000 miles from the nearest continent. A week after arriving I’m still blasphemous in my resignation that Hawaii is its own world- a place where people are content and life creeps along to the beat of tropical paradise. Hidden beneath the veil of tourism and masked by people posing as hippies; the Tao of life in Hawaii exists along the road and in the greeting, among the trees and in the sea… it’s the wood of the canoe or the herb in the tea, a vibe that can be overlooked but never shunned. Its easy to sit down and drink tea to the moment, or wake up and mount your bike directly. The day starts when you’re ready and stops when you do, yet in following your own pace the rest of the island matches stride for stride.

On the Water

2009-01-09T19:37:00.000-08:00

Hilo, Hawaii
November/December 2008

My surf board was white. It was long and blunt, too. And it was a lot better than the board I rented for two days. But I was equally unprepared on the surf of Honoli’i with “my board” as I was with the rental.
With the help of the Garmin 705 I managed to find every paved road in Hilo County and a few more within 50 miles. One day while under the guidance of the Garmin I turned onto a road that seemed fruitless, but alas made a swooping turn through the jungle and under a bridge before the road suddenly became populated by lifted pick ups, SUVs, and people carrying surf boards and those out just to be seen. I rode by and looked over the precipice to see the surf crowded with little people on surf boards. Hmmm, that looks fun…
When my bike and I arrived back at our quaint little Hawaiian rambler set 400 feet up the hill, I had a mind to find the surf shop and figure out what was what in the surf world at Hilo. I found out very quickly how it worked. What you do is you get a surf board from somewhere (decline when they advise you to take lessons), tie the leash to the right foot if you’re “normal footed” and proceed to make a total fool of yourself. During my first “session” I sat on the beach with my leash tied to my right foot and watched as the seasoned veterans made there way out to the surf. Awh, easy. I walked into the water like a wily pro, got the board wet, jumped on and got thrown by the incoming white water at least three times. I finally made it to where the surfers were waiting for the waves and fell off a couple more times in perfectly calm water. From my perch the shore looked awfully far away and the water felt –hmm- deeper than the 25meter long, 4 foot deep pool at the gym. Then I maneuvered around a little bit and acted like I knew exactly where the next wave was going to be, which was 10-20 feet outside of where everyone else was... despite my apparent knowledge everyone stayed where they were, perhaps because of the farmers tan, but likely equally deterred by the fact that I was doing more swimming beside the board/under the board than I was straddling the board like a beached whale.
With time (over the course of several weeks) I managed to figure out how to catch the waves, although when I got to the part where I was to stand up the front of the board began a frightful pearl and sent me head over hills and swirling below trying to remember if this was an area with rocks and whether I was actually going to resurface in the next minute… Eventually I learned that if you can get just one hand on the board as you fall off you can be above the surface within a matter of moments, but if not, well… you learn hard.

Undaunted Courage

2009-01-09T19:20:00.000-08:00

“… This confirmation problem pervades our modern life, since most conflicts have at their root the following mental bias; when Arabs and Israelis watch news reports they see different stories in the same succession of events. Likewise, Democrats and Republicans look at different parts of the same data and never converge to the same opinions. Once your mind is inhabited with a certain view of the world you will tend to only consider instances proving you to be right. Paradoxically the more information you have, the more justified you will feel in your views…”

Taleb, Nassim. The Black Swan. New York: Random House, 2007.

Undaunted Courage

Wet leaves

2008-10-20T10:33:00.000-07:00

Bitter cold
Mid-fall, 2008

What did I do today? Yesterday? Not much. The word is light and I will leave the truth for next year… but remember- the truth hurts. This morning I woke up, rolled out of bed and became aware of the bleak, dark day and pitter patter of the rain. I had had a plan for the day but I forgot what it was and went down stairs to pour some coffee and consider the all too foreboding plan for the day. After contemplating the decision for 30 minutes I decided to pour myself another coffee and make a venue change from the kitchen to the living room. Sometimes a venue change helps stimulate mental focus and psychological function. I sat and stared out the window at the wet leaves. I hate wet leaves. I stared harder and began to glare. I wanted to kill the wet leaves. See- here’s the deal with wet leaves: They were once dry. They floated around, caught the brisk fall wind and soared through the air. They were like a pair of chipmunks playing in the back yard. They were part of what was a happy time. Now they are wet, like melting snow in the rain. They are hopeless and useless, smothered in the mud puddles and smashed into the streets. It’s like a scene from the holocaust; everything emaciated and forever (actually just for the moment) denied the meager redemption of previous ecstasy. Awh, but it will get better. Still the plan doesn’t come to mind, so I go outside and wander through the wilderness for a little while. I always carry a shotgun when I leave the house in case a beast emerges from the forest in a fit of rage and hunger. I wander into the garage to make sure my bikes are in the same place they’ve been for the last week. Yep. I’m tempted to get on and ride it around in a circle just to make sure it still works, but fight the temptation and sharpen the axe on the grinder instead. Still with no clear objective in mind I take a seat and figure on staying there until thoughts become more lucid…

chop... chop... chop

2008-10-04T02:44:00.000-07:00

It's not the way they walk or the way they talk. It's not the way they do it like that. It's how they are. And it's they who suffer.
They can only act for... And the truth will break when the lie extends. Humanity, as in all walks of life, includes the basic instincts of the savage, and is ruthless in their application. Drop the lie, face the truth and be flippant when the time is right. Now is not the moment.

Paying for puppets

2008-09-11T09:58:00.000-07:00

France

I’ve come to my senses with the French; they’re not all bad. In fact, they’re really not bad at all. Sometimes the snob factor and “land of supremacy concept” rubs a bit too close to your face, but otherwise it’s swell. The truth is that I’ve really never taken a second look at France when I come racing through within the whole race organization setup. Now I look and I see these beautiful towns that are kept up superbly and wonder how I could have missed it before. That is and will continue to remain a mystery to me. In fact much of what is done in Europe is so forthright that you wonder what happened in the US. Much of the innovation at home is so cock-eyed and done with disregard for those who stand alone that it is synonymous with someone building a water dock on a mountain. Yes!... but wait, why no boats here? Then again, Europe is certainly not perfect and I’d rather pay for myself than for puppets. With that said… one of these days it will all work out and everyone will be called the US.

Tiger Style

2008-08-20T18:00:00.001-07:00

The capacity of one to enter the realm of work and perseverance is not that which can be set to the side and labeled “other.” I find that many people in all walks of life take the mere existence of reality fore granted. It irritates me as that of an intruder in my house.

Cycling isn’t a sport for the weak of heart, nor one for those with a fragile mind. Every day tests the audacity of the athlete in cycling. Much, much, much more so than the fellow who makes his way to his 9-5 every day. He who works under the spell of the winner is he who will never win himself, and resigns his position in humanity to a feeble future and much less than could be desired by the daring and courageous genes that so define human existence. It is the underlying hypocrisy of this resignation of basic human genetics that irks every cyclist and individual who maintains a cheek existence in a now cowardly society. There is not one day where a wily professional practicing in sport does not defy the resignation of the fear at the forefront of society and strive to be the best and achieve the excellence that they base their life upon. It is by these self-righteous fundamentals that fuel the selfish, loathing, and degrading charade of the common man. It is certainly a pity, but it is the content of our character and the light of our future… so for those who fear self help and breed despair into the masses… the future is bleak.

Building

2008-06-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

North Bend, WA
Wednesday, June 25th, 2008

Digging's always been my thing (pumping too, but that’s another story). Give me a shovel and I’ll shovel… a pedal, and I’ll pedal. So in Paris-nice they gave me a race and I raced. It was easy; all you do is race for 5 hours a day for 7 days and its over. So that’s what I did- with a fractured shoulder, with colitis. And while I was racing, I was digging. Digging, and digging and digging. By the time the race was over I had dug so deep that I could no longer see the light. The shades were long removed and everything was dim and dark like a nice Seattle day in the winter. I got done with the race and got sick immediately, I started to recover, but I had a trainer in my apartment… so I trained. Then came Criterium International and I raced. I raced, raced, raced until I finished… 28 minutes down. Handily making the time cut, but absolutely destroyed. The next day I didn’t start. It was so easy; all I had to do was race!? But wisdom around me said to stop, there’s something wrong, you’ve got to go home and see a doctor and figure out what’s wrong. I was devastated, and the world was upside down. But the truth was that I’d been digging, and digging, and digging since I started Paris-Nice. And to stop digging when you’ve been digging so long is hard! So I did a little digging on the side, when I’d go out for a spin I’d start at 200 watts but be blown away. I couldn’t do it. I’d coast and recalibrate the power tap, but 200 was still just as hard. Something was wrong. I actually am screwed up. And then I realized how far I’d dug and started digging myself out. It was hard to believe that I was so low- I’d come from so high. At California I was high, like Mauna Kea high, and then all of a sudden I was at the depths of the ocean, about to run out of oxygen. So I started digging myself out… and it wasn’t until 4 days ago in the route du sud mountain stage that I finally found the sort of form that I was looking for. It was bizarre and void of anything resembling elegance but it was a start and it was a light in the very dark hole that I’d been digging for the past 2 months.
But the second half of the season is going to be good, great, victorious, triumphant… and I’m going to put my hard hat on over my shades and build, build, build until I get there.

Andorra

2008-06-08T07:51:00.000-07:00

Saleu, Andorra
Friday, June 6, 2008

On a whim I received notice of a stealth 1.5 day training camp in Andorra. I was to drive into Andorra with mechanic Tom Hopper early in the morning, ride in and around Saleu for 5 hours, stay the night in one of their classy establishments, grab the bike once more and head back to Girona. All in an effort to recon the area for a future training camp at altitude in the high, high, very high, pyrenees.
With it all said and done and the recon officially satisfied I can tell you that Andorra is a sensational locale for bike riding, training, vacationing and anything else bred for the high mountains. In 5 hours I climbed on top of the world and then a little higher. the average altitude there is around 6000 feet and each climb I did, (5), went to a different branch of the huge ski area there, Vallnord. Actually it seems that there is only one ski area in Andorra, but that ski area is made up of many stations. It would be like if in the rocky mountains all of the areas were called Steamboat. Anyway, if you ever go to Andorra, just know that it´s possibly the most spectacular places in the world. Small, but beautiful. ¿I wonder... if you flattened it out, how big would it be?

Cinquo de mayo

2008-05-05T22:35:00.000-07:00

Tour of the Gila

It was a right zippy one, this. I'd hardly started (and received a rare flogging) before the whole thing was over. Though it wasn't the kind of form I take kindly to, it wasn't a bad trip. Silver city's a ball and the people there aren't half bad, not to mention the walmart that's absolutely suave... I'd take silver and its sophisticated residents over boulder any day. With that aside I rented a car for the first time, and tested it too. Its great how cars can put up with so much. Who'd ever thought a dodge caliber could go 100 mph for 300 miles? But then again I didn't realize brakes didn't pulse on all cars either. With that said...
Anyway, el paso turned out to be a great place, they've got the place dialed for sure- the urban sprawl that's seemingly endless, the overabundance of cheap labor, nice thrifty residencial complexes.... the works really. In fact, I didn't realize how close it is to Mexico. Literally half the cars sport license plates of comunidad Chuiahuah. I got to thinking the caliber might like to see the place. But alas we decided to hang out at the walmart with some of the local quality. That car is slick in the south, dude. That's all old news though. My ticket back to immortal combat is in hand and the action starts on may 12th. I hope to be on the inflicting end of the pain this time. Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Liv'n it up, not giv'n a...

2008-04-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

Silver city, NM
4.28.08

It’s bizarre how such a small, obscure town could command my presence on so many occasions. It’s some 150 miles from the closest airport (elPaso, Texas) and hosts a bike race that, over the years, has managed to push itself into the upper echelon of bike races in the US... though it remains fairly low on the short list of big events. Regardless, Silver city brings back some timeless memories of the past, and always garners a visit when the moment presents itself.
The team isn't actually going to be taking this one on, so I'm going italone so to speak- something of a pro-bono pursuit if you will. I always cherish the occasion that allows me to return to silver city though, and this is a perfect opportunity... Just to reiterate what you already know. Perhaps it’s something to do with the wind-swept environment, or the remoteness of the place. Or maybe it’s the respect I have for the working man, the blue collar life and a good honest day on the job. Or maybe it’s a combination of everything, but regardless of what happens life slows down and everyone takes a moment to relax. Anyway, with resort vibes aside, I'm here to race, and if my credit score let's me rent a car I’ll be the first one on the line and the first one up the hill at the end of the first stage. I’ll also be the first one to carry two liters of water on my bike in the 21st century, they zoned that out several years ago with the invention of the feed zone, but as I am without such trivial conveniences in the middle of the desert at altitude, I rinsed out my grandfathers old bottles and installed them on my bike. Simple fixes to the most complex problems... Amazing how the team staff is able to solve these sort of problems without me around. Really- I don't know how they do get by. But, here I am... Back in black, flying over the Rockies for a short jaunt in Denver before I board the Texan pride in route to el Paso and rent some wheels for the trip to silver city. It should be fun, but above all else answer the question that I've been asking myself repeatedly for the last month n a half "should they let Levi ride or not???”... Wait wrong question, "is it over, or will the vendettas be rectified?"

Saving the environment

2008-04-18T10:49:00.001-07:00

4.18.08

On the last segment of my training a few hapless days ago I came across someone worse than hapless; pathetic. He entered my sights from afar and as I locked on the blood began to boil and all sorts of unbecoming thoughts flooded into my mind… one of which was sending him into a ditch. I was shocked to see it and shock frequently leads to disregard for common law, but in this case I got the better of myself, settling for a simple blow by and almost a gesture of disbelief. The problem was that there was someone wearing a rock racing jersey in a town where no one wears cycling apparel beyond the stuff you find at payless or whatever. This guy had to go out of his way to get his hands on this crap. I should’ve pushed him into the ditch.

Detox

2008-04-16T08:31:00.000-07:00

04.16.08

It’s easy. Clean it, rinse it, ride it. Repeat. There are few people who fully understand this concept, but in the midst of the chaos frequently he who endures is he who maintains focus and cohesion throughout.
I had thought that the darkness would withdraw, but after tests, tests, and more tests the final diagnosis was ulcerative colitis- the lesser of the two “disorders” that make up the family of inflammatory bowel disease. It is essentially chronic inflammation of the cells in the tissue of the large intestine. Fortunately the inflammation is microscopic in my case; normally the colon is literally tied up in knots, making digestion a very unpleasant and altogether unproductive process. In extreme cases the large intestine is surgically removed… however, at the moment this hasn’t been prescribed, I pushed for it… but the doc really wasn’t having it. Instead he prescribed a topical anti-inflammatory medication to take for the rest of my life; noting that his remedy should not only put the inflamed cells into remission but also make me profoundly better on the bike, as he gathered that the cells had possibly been inflamed for a year.
Since no one really knows anything about ulcerative colitis, there is no cure… only hopeful treatment. There are two main hypotheses in regard to the cause of the illness, the first of which is that it’s past down from kin. The second is that your digestive system never recovers from a particular bout with a digestive virus. As there is no family history and I’ve been battling viruses on a fairly regular basis, it seems the virus theory holds the most water, though of course with holes... as it doesn’t seem much funding is received by the crohne’s and colitis foundation.
What the doctor doesn’t tell you sometimes is the best remedy of all. After a bit of research and some chats with patients of the above, it seems that a diet strictly of macrobiotic ingredients leaves patients symptom free. It seems that something of this nature that cures an otherwise terminal illness would make it into the doctor’s manual of “what to say to patients.” But apparently not, since when I asked the doc about it he replied “I don’t recommend diet change to my clients.” It’s like being prescribed a diet is worse than the illness itself. For me, however, it’s more of a solution to perhaps a whole host of problems and a challenge that will probably leave me for the better regardless of the outcome.
In the meantime I’ve been to visit the physical therapist a few times, and each time with mixed feelings. Most of the stuff I could do myself, though we’ll see after the next visit. These guys seem to be all the same… like going to an auto shop: yes, you’ll need this, this and this done on your car and it’s really not safe to drive unless you get these repairs done. So that will come to 5x the value of your car. And they look at you like they really expect you to agree to the repairs.
And the preliminary prognosis for my immediate racing return is:
Tour of the Gila
Tour of Catalan
Some race in Portugal
Route of the south

Retreat?

2008-04-04T09:53:00.000-07:00

3.02.08

The state’s in a crossroads at the moment, and the worst of the lot is that I can’t say exactly which way to go. And when the case is as such it’s best to avoid making the decision yourself. As the Sun Tzu says the fight is chaotic, yet one is not subject to chaos. When it has rained upstream the stream’s flow intensifies. Stop fording, wait for it to calm. So I’ve outsourced the decision to professionals in the matter… Mr. md. It’s all like a big puzzle that makes a bit of sense when you match a couple pieces, but then no matter how you’ve gone about it, the last piece doesn’t fit… or goes to an entirely different puzzle. It’s almost best to grab all the damn pieces and throw ‘em out the window, go to the doctor and start anew. Perhaps it’s not fun or much for the confidence but it’s the way it’s got to be done and who knows, I’ll probably be better when the bout is over, just not content. You’ve gotta live your life like there’s one more road to cross, anyway.Before the world was in disarray I was scheduled to do Criterium and two French cup races before flying home on the 7th… despite my absolutely atrocious skills on the bike… with emphasis on my performance at Criterium, which pretty much cemented the looming feeling that Paris-Nice’s temporary lantern rouge status wasn’t due to an untimely and disastrous crash* on the second stage, but instead to a boding gastro dysfunction. At the time of Paris-Nice I knew something was wrong because just weeks prior I’d been riding like DMX himself couldn't stop me, yet there I was, in last place after 7 days of hell… when I was supposed to be the legend of hell himself… or so I’d thought and hoped; my confidence was so high that at times I’d float, but then there I was… decomposing in yet another crap French race. How could this happen when I’ve been waiting for this year all my life? The answer is that I couldn’t answer the question then ‘cause I wasn’t willing to accept that stuff was going downhill. Now I have to… because yesterday the team decided that I was going to accept it by buying me a ticket home and I’m on my way from Barcelona to London where I make a transfer and board a direct flight to Seattle. 9 Hours to sit staring at the seat in front of me with an occasional glance out the window at Greenland, Quebec, and Canada to think wow, must suck down there and decide that Ice’s got vendettas and when “they” really start talking I’ll be back and stronger than ever… so hold your breath cause its not over yet.

*I got x-rayed yesterday that revealed an avulsion fracture on my shoulder

I don’t cry no more, don’t look to the sky no more…

2008-03-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

… and then I moved into the new apartment. It’s great, it gives a feeling of home in an otherwise foreboding alien place. In fact, I don’t mind it at all. The location’s perfect with 12 cafes within 10 meters and four grocery stores plus a dozen odd meat shoppes and dealerships… not to mention the underground gun running facility and the local gangsta’s paradise. No seriously though, most of the people are from Morocco/Egypt/Iran* and walking outside past 8 is dangerous. But aside from that it rocks, doing life behind bars never sounded so good.
…and then I did this race called Paris-nice. It has a great name but it’s not for the solemn of soul. It throws the wrath of hell at you everyday, so if you’ve ever done anything bad in your life you’ll be left repenting. The first three days everyone was walk’n around with a chip on their shoulder and a clip at their waist… anyone who moved was covered in blood. I had never done a race where not once during the 8 stages did I finish with the front bunch, but there’s always got to be a first… and I fear it may not be the last. The true definition of sporting finally revealed itself. If someone thinks dog fighting should be illegal, then… how can this not be? Certainly it’s inhumane… but? Okay. Enjoy your Easter.

*according to the Boston Globe, 92.8 percent of the south side of Girona, Spain is from Morocco, Egypt or Iran.

This is life, this is what I know...

2008-03-02T00:39:00.000-08:00

Girona, Espana
Until now

Time has come and gone and the world has changed so much since the last time I stopped to take a look around. I went home for such a short period of time to train for the tour of California that the last 3, 4 or however many weeks went by without a second glace. Brilliant how time flies when you’re not paying attention. Then all of a sudden I’m down in Solvang riding the tt course, spending time in the sun and confronting the reality of the moment… the off-seasons over, training camp is gone, the Bahamas flew by like it’s been years since… and the first big race of the year is front and center… again. The weather in Solvang for our little race was fantastic and I haven’t a regret about it. The tour of California went by well, it was too bad we didn’t catch Levi on the way into Santa Rosa, but that’s life. Maybe in the future he’ll be chasing us!? Regardless, it went great and I think we were all pleased/surprised about the outcome; and certainly more people than not are excited for the year to come. Following California I went home for two speedy days before boarding the flight to Barcelona- one of which was as miserable as any flight I’ve been on, though the flights themselves were logistically spot-on. Unfortunately 12 hours in the air is generally grim regardless of the logistics. Since landing I’ve been bouncing around waiting for my apartment to open so I can start living a normal life. Odd isn’t it that my first apartment would be in Spain? I’ve got a week to settle down, relax and ready for Paris-Nice, the biggest race of yet, but more to come.

Keep'n it real

Ya'll gonna make me act a fool? up in here? Provost, 0-85 in 10 seconds.

One more road to cross

2008-02-09T09:53:00.000-08:00

North Bend, WA
Friday, February 08, 2008

Nassau, Bahamas

Training camp came and went, almost as fast as it started. Each day seemed independently lengthy and burdened, but went by with equal haste. Although the general feelings were of loathing and despair the result derived from 2.5 weeks of hard training at altitude can’t be overlooked. Personally I’d rate the camp as near one of the best I’ve ever done in terms of effect.
The last day seemed abnormally cheerful and the continental breakfast (“a la carte”) went down with exceptional ease. We started the ride early and with little premonition upon return gathered our belongings in route to the airport in Tucson- a mere 3 hour drive; where we spent the night and 5 of us boarded planes for Nassau… All with the same destination, but all on different flights…?! Some 7 hours and 3 connections later I arrived in Bahamian customs… one that had an air of zero interest until I approached the counter without the required knowledge of my hotel, which indeed was something of a password upon entrance. Fortunately the carrousel was near and a team mate was lurking… whereupon I was granted temporary entry while gathering the necessary knowledge: The Wyhndam.
The days following our arrival in the Bahamas were delightful. The first day was spent being brash and ignorant. I went on a ride with a team mate where we spent the next 2.5 hours riding inches from the bumper of random cars and trafficking down the center line when vehicle density picked up. The training was excellent, especially as a good day to re-open the legs after an absurdly long day of travel. And it was almost impossible to ignore the feeling that air actually entered your lungs at 2 feet above sea level… as opposed to 6000. We did attain some footage until now un-tapped of respective dump-truck motor pacing skill.
The race was almost a joke with “gringo grande” (Tyler Farrar, as he was affectionately named by the collective Cuban Combine) easily outsprinting everyone every time. Of course this was after each race exploded and casualties trickled in bruised, battered and bettered after enduring endless assault courtesy team slipstream. But then again the Tour of the Bahamas is not exactly the Tour of France.

And the beat goes on...

2008-01-22T18:04:00.000-08:00

Silver City, New Mexico
January 22, 2008

The steady rhythm of country living plays along the hills and valleys of the high desert; dust gathers in the wind and immerses the region in a rich fiery rust colored landscape. A cracked dry road rises steadily through the mountains and trees into a pictorial country town on the edge of nothing. Known primarily for a massive copper mine lying just beyond the town perimeter, Silver City hosts the 2008 training camp for Team Slipstream Chipotle. The roads provide excellent support for the team as they set out each day with bikes in hand and directors in tow… The infrastructure of riders and staff bestow a pleasant spectacle upon the town; one that is received with a gesture of surprising respect and benevolence via local residence. Here in the sleepy mountain town of Silver City the future of cycling and that which lies ahead for Slipstream is assembled as the team and each athlete meld into one.

Does it shine in the light?

2008-01-18T09:00:00.000-08:00

The way of the leg and pedal: click here.

Could you throw it over your shoulder?

2008-01-09T12:30:00.000-08:00

"Sometimes you just feel tired. You feel weak. And when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up. But you gotta search within you, try ta find that inner strength and just pull that ---- out of you, and get that motivation to not give up, and not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face and collapse."

"I won't fall, I will stand tall, Feels like no one could beat me..."

...come on... are you serious?

Enduring Humanity

2008-01-06T21:19:00.000-08:00

North Bend, WA
Sunday, January 06, 2008

When the leaves are brown and the sky is glum. The day is short and the rain is long. And the season is forthcoming… what does the future provide?
Not much, but watch Rocky IV and it all makes sense.

Every moment that I spend in the rain, on my bike, half frozen and nearly dead, confirms the strength of mind that I will hopefully draw from as the world turns and the seasons change. Each time I wake up and hear the rain as it troubles the roof I think to myself of the edge it bestows, and I realize that when the time comes for me to test that which I’ve spent months crafting I will not be displeased.

And so… let it be known that a mere 5 hour ride in the sun is not beneficial save that which is done in the sublime weather fabricated in but one place on earth; the epitome of the Pacific Northwest. It lies due east of Puget Sound and on the very blade of the Cascade mountains, where the weather builds, the sun never shines, the thermometer holds steady at 34 degrees, and the rain falls eternally. This is the building block of humanity where genetic superiority is established… Against the greatest odds and the most extreme weather in the world mankind perseveres.

No thanks, I think I'll keep my seat...

2007-12-24T15:11:00.000-08:00

Kona, Hawaii
December 23, 2007

The reason I’m in Starbucks today isn’t because I want coffee, but because it’s the only place on the island cold enough to dawn my wool hat. As the propellers of Island Air flight 1281 with non-stop service to Kona fired up this morning, the sky was a haze of grey with a hint of lazy Hawaiian warmth peaking out from behind. When the engines were all in and the wheels were spun as one with the ground a burst of tropical rain let loose from the sky and immersed the island in the stifling yet radiant brilliance of the most remote nearly divine paradise on earth. We flew across the island and as I looked out the window I realized that Hilo is but an extension of the infestation abound on the island. The mere truth of the matter holds that the place is set in the middle of the pacific ocean, absolutely separate from the rest of the world and inhabited by those who are part of the culture, but only because they work as a unit and represent the jungle which they are both of. In Hilo I ordered coffee from a woman who had worked and lived in Hilo for all her life save a short visit to Orlando. She was impressed by the portly nature of the place, as those without native blood are intrigued by an island in the middle of the ocean on a map. On occasion those who venture into the islands feel isolated, secluded and distant, when in reality it would take days, weeks, even months to explore that which is hidden deep beneath the Hawaiian jungle. Perhaps it is this idea, the misfit nature of the common man on a place so foreign and intimidating, that one would feel claustrophobic in a world built beyond the means of man. And so I dawn my hat and prepare my exit, back into the place where things make sense and seasons change with time.

Nord Bend is…

2007-12-21T12:35:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 20, 2007

...Under the weather again- not as bad, but equally cataclysmic.

When the time comes for me to head northeast, the storm will have passed; the morning of the 24th will find me among those of the Bend.

Tsunami Warning

2007-12-19T09:44:00.000-08:00

I was catching up on the news this morning and found some that was a bit troubling.
An earthquake of magnitude 7.3 jolted Alaska's Aleutian Islands in the northern Pacific on Wednesday, Japan's weather agency said, triggering a tsunami advisory for Hawaii. -December 19th. I wonder how long it would take to get here. I changed my return date to the 23rd, so it has a couple days.

STATE OF AFFAIRS

2007-12-16T23:36:00.000-08:00

Hilo, Hawaii
Sunday, December 16, 2007

The view from Mauna Loa... 11,200 feet.

Haleaukala in the distance (I think). On the ground (lava rock) there, that's snow.

Mauna Loa Observation facilities, with more snow.

As the matter of fact holds, it’s winter at the moment. In which case the temperature’s steady at 78 degrees and, I guess, it rains more. Like, say… 20% of most days. It makes for an interesting experience, different in certain aspects than weather at home, mainly in regard to the temperature. Aside from that it’s pretty much the same.

I’ve been splitting most of my time between the gym, the bike and… versus; which’s taken an approach of late to covering the intricacies of ultimate fighting… most bizarre really, do people actually prefer fighting to fishing?… a joke of course. I never understood how they could afford a house when they were air’n fishin’ ‘n’ huntin’… even the token rugged outdoorsy type don’t watch that nonsense.

With that said, the riding here isn’t superb, though one can trespass the indignity of highway riding with some decent noise cancelling headphones equipped with the latest in FM technology. Dangerous you say in an already deadly environment? Perhaps the potential of self inflicted crime presides in such a case (muse carefully). The redundancy of riding on the edge of a highway travelled heavily is morally debilitating, but if one has a firm union with their inner mind, the continuance of exercise in such a time is austere in its simplicity.

On the Saturday of last week I road to the visitor center at Mauna Kea, a superb location really, nestled quaintly on the edge of the world at 9200 feet; easily accessed by a winding little road which accumulates an average grade of 17% in the last 5 miles. It’s especially easy on the legs when you’ve already put 6500’ feet into ‘em and are feeling a bit queasy from express altitude ascension- well, not really, but it does sound cool. After the visitor center the road turns to a well packed, road bike accessible route to the summit at ~14,000 feet… but as I approached they forced me to yield articulating tales of lost hikers, rapid response teams and thermal cameras. After a moment of calculated thought I decided to forego my savvy little plan to foil their summit defenses and fill my bottles before descent… which gave an uncomfortably vivid fleeting feeling.

The elevation between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea is less than a few hundred feet, but the various observation laboratories are situated atop the latter… somehow the location of the laboratories fabricates the misconception that Mauna Loa is to Mauna Kea as Mount Rainier is to Mount Everest. In truth the two are separated by but a few hundred feet. A few days ago the knowledge was bestowed unto I that the road to the observation center on Mauna Loa was paved all the way… Yesterday I set out to determine the quality of the road and various view points and happened upon the gem of the big island. I have never set my eyes upon anything as mystical as such. The road to the summit traverses dormant lava flows all the way to the top where the zenith of three other mountains gather too in the sky like islands in the clouds. I think two of them were Haleaukala (Maui) and Mauna Kea, but the third I know not. When I arrived at the top I spent a moment gathering the image in my mind before noticing the approach of some rather inhospitable mountains… and pairing that with the time 5:00pm (I got off to a late start 1:00) I figured that the time at once was one of perfection to depart. The elevation where the road on Mauna Loa turns to an impassable gravel compound is 11,200 feet. The temperature was 28 degrees and a bit of wind enabled the feeling of utter desolation to effectively set in. On the way down I entered the cloud & the weather began. The rain was very light but it was so cold, rainy and windy that everything pretty much went numb- which isn’t exactly superb given the grade of the road and the state of it’s pave. I just about died. Half an hour later It was pitch dark and I was still descending, fortunately a last minute thought had me grab a tail light and a little visibility headlight when I was heading out. The tail light was adequate, but the odds bode very poorly when riding at 35 miles an hour on a winding road coupled with driving rain. Fortunately the passing of cars was fairly infrequent and the reflectors lining the center and sides of the road were very good, they must be designed to catch even the most unworthy radiance in the night… so I could, despite impending circumstances tell which way the road was going. And, alas, Hilo was never a more welcome sight.

Mauna Kea froma Mauna Loa.

It was a bit fresh on top.

There in the background, that's lava rock. uh...

Mid Pacific

2007-12-11T10:47:00.000-08:00

Hilo, Hawaii
Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Hilo doesn’t get much credit for what it actually is. It’s the only locally owned plot of ground in the Hawaiian Islands. It has managed to retain all of its original splendor and contrary to the cultural standpoint of the other islands, it hasn’t lost any of the “aloha” spirit- which is to say that pretty much anyone is welcome provided they’re coming with the same idea in mind. I could imagine that the philosophy could turn bitter pretty quick with a barrage of choice words via the mouth of a stateside proprietor. But they don’t seem to fire until fired upon, if you know what I’m say’n.
I’ve been to all the Islands and I’ve never felt this way before. The place literally calls to you; it’s such a beguiling place. The people are actually at home here, they don’t have anything to prove, they’ve got what they want and they’re content with how they got it and where their course in life is leading. The course of which will lead them to a life spent in paradise. It’s a bit droll ‘cause 87 miles from Hilo on the other side of the island is Kona, where the price of a 300 square foot condo goes for that which you can retire on, compared with the price in Hilo... synonymous with that of the condemned.
You think when you get to Hawaii first of the endless beaches of perfection, right? In Hilo these beaches come at a steep price, unless a swimmer of strength you are. The best water hole I’ve ever swam in is in Hilo. And believe it or not, it hasn’t much of a beach. There’s about a 15 foot sanded entrance to a lagoon that’s otherwise surrounded by “rocky beach” before heading out to the open sea. There’re fish ‘n’ turtles, waves, clear water, etc., etc. It’s great if you’re ready to brave the elements, otherwise…

Knock on wood

2007-12-02T16:24:00.000-08:00

Hilo, Hawaii
Sunday, December 01, 2007

I’m shocked, shocked to find that Hilo is the second largest city in the Hawaiian Islands! Where are the people? Where is the metro-area? Isn’t that usually synonymous with places of population? I guess mixing Hawaii with population is a mistake in itself, though the highways are more congested than most any that I’ve left tread of tire on. The most memorable experience of such was when I went to Hawaii for the first time… to Oahu of course, and went ahead and did some training. The riding is superb on all the islands if you don’t mind putting your life on the line 10 times a ride, which of course, being an infidel ‘n all, I don’t mind atoll (at all). On this first visit I was on a training regime that called for a 4.5 hour ride I think, and since the islands are “sooo small” I thought I’ll just ride around Oahu a couple times and it’ll be perfect. Once I got all the way around (once) and was coming through Honolulu I was on the verge of 6+ hours and about ready to fuel my thirst with a nice refreshing drink of ocean water. The streets of Honolulu are of by far the worst design in the world (even worse than Seattle) and entirely jam packed with cars during the day. Since I didn’t get hit that day I left feeling pretty invincible, and on top of that I was even more intrigued by the area contained in the island… but most of all, I left knowing that all the islands had the most spectacular climbing in the world. So if you’re a cycling enthusiast looking for some good hard riding Hawaii will provide it, just be ready to don you’re lead suit…if you’re mortal, you’ll probably need it.
I rode yesterday for 4 hours. I looked at a map and decided on a couple routes, one of which was off highway 11, called Stainback Highway. On Google earth it looked like a little road that went off into the jungle. It turned out to be a nice little road that went up, and up, and up, and continued to go up 4800 feet from sea level until it culminated at the Hawaii State Correctional facility. Nice place I must say, though I met only a fairly pretentious looking fence and a most jovial security guard at the top, the view was superlative. The guard in reality wasn’t too friendly as most people, probably, are not who work in the pin. It was just that all the way up the road there were these signs that were most informative in regard to the repercussions of continuing on the road; misdemeanor, class c felony… etc., etc. But everything looked so old that I was sure that the road would elapse at some old, rundown prison that was no longer in service… so regardless of the signs I was a bit surprised to actually come to the gate of a functioning state prison. The conversation went like this, “probably can’t go in there, huh?”
“No sir.” And then I went back down the hill taking a quick glimpse of Mauna Kea up above and the elevation reading on the Garmin of 1600m.

A chat with David Millar

In the meantime, a foot of snow fell this morning in Nord Bend! If I'd been home, i'd be having some good conversation with myself on the trainer & wheel'n in the XLT with the Michelins on the way to the gym. Apparently the snow that is falling at the moment will turn to rain tonight... which will, no doubt, give cause for a bit of rain and conclude in some heavy flooding to boot. Maybe after today they will rename North Bend, Nord Atoll. It's actually a better name, I think...
Severe Weather Alert
MUCH OF THE PRECIPITATION IN THE CASCADES TONIGHT WILL FALL AS SNOW...BUT IT WILL SWITCH TO RAIN LATE TONIGHT OR EARLY MONDAY ASTHE FREEZING LEVEL RISES TO AROUND 7000 FEET. RAINFALL IN THE CASCADES COULD RANGE FROM 5 TO 10 INCHES FROM LATE TONIGHTTHROUGH MONDAY EVENING. MANY RIVERS FLOWING OFF THE WEST SLOPES OF THE CASCADES COULD FLOOD MONDAY NIGHT OR TUESDAY...WITH THE PUYALLUP RIVER NEAR ORTING...THE SNOQUALMIE...TOLT...SKYKOMISH...SNOHOMISH...STILLAGUAMISH...SKAGIT...AND NOOKSACK RIVERS PROBABLY FACING THE GREATEST THREAT.

The killing season

2007-12-02T15:39:00.001-08:00

Kona, Hawaii
Friday, November 30, 2007

Aside from the 3:30 wake up this morning it’s brilliant to finally be an occupier of the land. The place is warm ‘n sunny and the mountain couldn’t look taller. Of course with the cloud coverage of today you can see little but the trunk of it, which makes the magnitude ever more daunting. Here on the side of Kona, the vegetation is rather sparse, and if my opinion is of any worth… the place blows. It’s initially flat before hitting the mountain and absolutely infested with a parasitic brand of tourists- the kind that prefer to give suffrage to the innumerable visitor catches. Not to mention that walking doesn’t come easily to the lot of ‘em. They make me ill, and infinitely at odds with the crowds of the aforesaid. No wonder the locals feel like they’re being oppressed or something. Nevertheless, there are some locals around who’re liv’n the high life and biding they’re time… not to say it’s Boulder or anything though… nor is it Washington... and you probably wonder why. & I’ll tell you, it’s not cold & the season doesn’t call for an increase in suicides. I’ll be making my way to the other side of the island in about 2.5 hours via Island Air… a trendy local brand that brings out the mahalo and aloha in everyone. What’s strange is that the flight across the island costs less than a 20 minute taxi ride. Explain to me how that can be… it must be subsidized by the state or something.

Diplomacy

2007-11-25T23:21:00.000-08:00

North Bend, WA
Sunday, November 25, 2007

The fact that Alaska Airlines flies from Denver to Seattle is not one to be taken lightly, for as of late the weather is, for lack of a better word, salubrious. Wholesome. Fresh…
It comes from the North and doesn’t stop for a biting moment to replenish itself in the scads of warmth along the way. I suppose the dubbing of Seattle as ‘The Gateway To Alaska' was symbolic in that the cold seems to meander its way on down the coast, stopping only in Seattle before it continues its respite to LA where it begins anew nice ‘n warm ‘n breezy. Or, maybe it just stops in Seattle and bides it’s time till the moment of exit commences… exit being back north… or… maybe it trails me as I flee.
At the moment training has begun, and the hours spent by me upon my stead have… proliferated. And will continue to proliferate until the ‘twinkling of an eye’ arrives. Sort of like when the stars align, of which, I’ve heard, can be seen the best from atop Mauna Kea. With time a zephyr will send me to a much more negotiable habitat. SKYROCK best describes the moment.

Mov’n bricks ‘n’ bang’n hammers

2007-11-18T20:45:00.000-08:00

Boulder, CO
November 7, 2007 – November 18, 2007

When I heard that we’d have a “get to know the team camp” that was 2 weeks long, I was sure it would consist of an hour a day of team functions and a lot of time sitting in our rooms watching TV… Alas, it was gainsaid by me; for each and every day was so full of meetings it was epic. We sat in meeting after meeting ranging anywhere from 401k counseling to the latest breakthroughs in Zipp Speed Weaponry. When it was time for bed the last thing on my mind was TV watching.
We did make a bit of time for business though, riding some five or six times. Days from the close of the camp I managed to get out on a spectacular ride; up to the little town of Ward where the elevation elapsed at a mere… 9500 feet- which seems appropriate given the little respite from ascent on the way up.
I guess the climax of the camp was the team presentation… which for me was more of a nadir. I’m not one to frolic in the midst of 650 people, much less while wearing a suit ‘n' tie. As soon as we were given the go ahead to escape the limelight I made a hasty escape… and for some reason I was irate, the raison d'être at once was not evident.
Perhaps the most important part of the two weeks for me was when we got to meet up with the directors to discuss the future of the year… and what my race schedule would look like… and it looks good: Tour of California, Paris-Nice, Tour of Georgia, &… the Tour of Italy. The best part of the meeting was that it was in a conference room around a table of some 7 chairs… consisting of me… the owner of the team… and 5 directors… Arguably the most important people in my life. I felt even less inclined to talk than usual.
And then I booked my flight to Hawaii: November 29th to December 16th Hilo, Hawaii. It should be warm and sunny, not cold and rainy.

Café España

2007-11-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

Nord Bend
Saturday, November 03, 2007

There’s not much of a difference between sitting in a café in America and sitting in one in Spain. Aside from the fact that the two are separated by this body of water known as the Atlantic Ocean; that which is sought is the same and accomplished through like means. If you amble your way into Starbucks, order a coffee, sit down for a chat, check the internet, read the newspaper or carry on in your own anonymity… you’ve quintessentially been to a Spanish Café… Now you have no need to go, ‘cause that was the only reason you were gonna go anyway, right? Bueno.

Of course there are minor differences that could potentially cause cataclysmic problems… such as spending 4 dollars on a cup of coffee the size of your nose, walking 200 feet, speaking Spanish, having allergies to things over 500 years old… Some people even find the calamity produced by scooters quite charming and feel quite compelled to throw down 1000 bucks to go see it. Others prefer the sophistication of a café filled with smoke & are in agreement on the relatively trivial price of a ticket when compared with the profound affect of café España smoke immersion. I'm not saying it's bad... it's just the same, most natives refer to it as Nord America.

Sneak attack

2007-10-25T17:51:00.000-07:00

Seattle, WA
Thursday, October 25, 2007

So I was riding Saturday… and I was hit by a runner… A runner? Yes, a runner… You may say that if there was one person destined to be hit by a runner it would be me… but this time it was different. I had no “finger” in it, no “verbal confrontation” nothing… I was meeting up with some guys to go riding in front of a coffee shop, the seats were taken & we were about to go riding so I was on my bike with a foot down just sit’n there chatting about global warming and capitalism... just kidding. But really, not promoting violence in anyway… And wham I’m on the ground wondering what exactly just happened. I look back to see a runner hobbling away, like he’d just hit a cyclist. & it dawns on me that I’d just been hit by a runner… I went after him and he turns out to be like 65 years old, he looks over and says “what’re you doing on the sidewalk? There’s no where to run anymore because the cyclists are on all our trails and sidewalks…” uhh… hmm… stay off the roads, stay off the sidewalks, stay off the trails… back on the trainer for me…

Anticipation

2007-10-22T18:03:00.000-07:00

Monday October 22, 2007
Bellevue, WA

I’m feeling it; the breeze, the ominously dark clouds, the dim gloomy, eternally rainy days… that lead to one thing, the divine, purely sanctified and absolutely rectified arctic warrior of the STL. Perhaps most people don’t understand how this works, but let me be the one to tell you that it’s a welcome change. I always value a cyclone in place of a sunny day in the off season. How can you even appreciate the off season if it’s not dark, cold ‘n rainy? That wouldn’t even be right, it’d be loco… dude. Regardless, as the state of the nasal passages turn unsullied, the force of the indoor trainer pulls & the voice of ‘Barn Yard’ whispers something about the mental utopia. The moment approaches…

Post-Op Ride

2007-10-18T22:08:00.000-07:00

I will be riding solo at 9:20am Saturday the 20th of October from Pert's Deli in Leschi. If you'd like to join me you can.

Be there... or be SQUARE!!!

Fair flying...

2007-10-17T18:40:00.000-07:00

Bellevue, WA
Tuesday, October 17, 2007

Great weather in the Northwest, not one day of rain in the last week ‘n a half! Literally clear sunny skies in the dead of fall, really quite unheard of. Perhaps it’s to make up for the summer that never came.
Regardless, in the last month of racing I apparently ensnared yet another sinus infection… although, I wasn’t aware of this until the nurse came into my little recuperating room after surgery… “Everything went really well, although the doctor thought it strange the patient would actually have a sinus infection at the time of surgery…” Yes… after two years of contemplation I finally gave in and got the ‘nasal intervention surgery.’ With the off season in full swing and, honestly, nothing better to do, surgery sounded like a refreshing and altogether memorable experience. Enough with those unsatisfying hours of Kung Fu and swimming, I’m getting surgery.
Okay, I wasn’t that optimistic, but it turned out much better than I thought it would. It was an outpatient operation of one hour performed in a hospital, literally, 5 miles from the abode of one William H. Gates. Post op I was walking around and there was, contrary to popular belief, zero pain. I didn’t use any of the pain medication they gave me, and now with five days since the operation I feel 80 percent. Evidently there’s a 7-10 day recoup period, so there’s still 2-5 days until I can start easing back into training… fortunately the outlook on weather here in the northwest remains bright, with clear skies in the forecast for another 3 weeks.

Debt, foreclosures and the falling dollar

2007-10-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

Nationwide, home prices are falling, sales are sluggish and the number of foreclosures is mounting. Ask any economist and you'll hear that things are bad, and likely to get worse.
Unless you live in Seattle, where the market is slowing but fundamentals remain strong.
The Emerald City has experienced strong price appreciation over the last six quarters, and that's expected to continue in the new year, though at a slower pace. In addition to a very low housing inventory and a strong sales rate, there are fewer non-conforming and high-risk loans on the books than in other cities, which means the area will likely see fewer defaults in the coming months than the rest of the country's markets. In other words, Seattle doesn't contribute to the falling dollar.

Under the weather

2007-10-08T12:01:00.000-07:00

North Bend, WA
Monday, October 8th, 2007

West of the mountains is in the midst of a monsoon. I wake up and I can hardly see 10 feet through the rain, I go to bed and feel the roof is soon to fall through. It’s not cold or warm, somewhere in between, ideal for the continued growth of the already abundant vegetation… a perfect reason for the neighbor to run his chainsaw for a few extra hours each day.
I rode once or twice since getting home, but it’s mainly been in the gym using their stuff & flopping around in the pool trying to stay in my lane and breathe at the same time. Then heading over to the Kung Fu club for some Wing Chun and Qi Gong, to learn to concentrate and kill stuff.

Kung Fu in Spanish

2007-10-03T14:51:00.000-07:00

Bellevue, WA
Tuesday, October 02, 2007

The season’s over, it’s been a long time coming and I’m nowhere near as ready for it as I’d imagined I’d be. For some reason I feel like I should just keep going… but I’ve stopped. I got a membership at a new gym with a much better feel; it’s sort of like a country club I suppose, although I wouldn’t be the authority on matters of such. I went there today and checked it all out, swam a couple laps (narrowly evaded drowning), climbed the wall, played some tennis, signed up for a kung fu class (external), etc., etc., etc. Oh, & I’m also taking Spanish 101, so that should be good fun. I’ve been stumbling around in Spain for the better part of two years and the only thing I know how to do is ask for more pasta, coffee &… so maybe if I know some basics I can actually catch on. Maybe not. We’ll see, si?

World championships

2007-09-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

Stuttgart, Germany
Saturday, September 29, 2007

It’s over. The course looked selective, but it wasn’t. Maybe it will be for the pros, but I guess the whole “the racers make the race hard” always triumphs in the u23 championships. If we’d gone a bit harder between the hills I’m sure it’d have split into a more select group, but you get what you’re dealt and ultimately decide what you do… and maybe I wasn’t aggressive enough, or whatever. I’m not satisfied, but I suppose that’s how it always is… I guess its life; provided the trend continues and next year comes, I’ll have a chance to obtain a more redeeming experience. I did have a go in the last 250 meters, but it was… short lived and quite pathetic.

16 hours

2007-09-28T12:57:00.000-07:00

Stuttgart, Germany
Friday, September 28, 2007

Two months ago I was at a team picnic back when Jonathan had a house rented for the summer in a little town over Els Angles. It was a team picnic, so participation was sort of mandatory. None of us had the infrastructure in place to have a car, but fortunately Kilian was down for some reason from his place in France. He had a little Renault with Michelins. It wasn’t a race car, but Alonso wouldn’t be entirely at odds with it. Danny was in the front beside Kilian and Pat, Frank, Blake and I were in the back… in other words we hardly fit in and certainly couldn’t buckle in. The road to the little town was similar to an f1 course, so Kilian took the opportunity to push the Renault to the limit. And of course when it got up to speed, the Michelins kept it on the road… according to Kilian. So we were rolling right along at a speed that pretty much made us all uneasy, with Kilian at the helm quite up in the grips of stardom & pride that a domestic make was about to break the land speed record… while Pat offered helpful advice from the back seat in regard to the tightness of the corner relative to our speed at the moment… When some crazy guy actually caught us and got his grill all up on our bumper… The thing is, we were going so fast that we all had that “we just might die” thing going, yet some dude is able to catch us. Danny rolled down the window and gave him the go ahead to pass as a joke- the road was much too technical with frequent blind corners for someone to pass, and besides, we were absolutely flying. He passes. Unbelievable. I don’t know how this is relative at all to anything, but I thought it was a good story. Maybe the lesson is that you can always go harder and push the limits further…
16 hours until the championships of the world commence. What will happen? I don’t know, but I have a good feeling.

Road... What road?

2007-09-27T12:08:00.001-07:00

Stuttgart, Germany
Thursday, September 27, 2007

So if I don’t win now, there’s no excuse.

9/26/2007
The roads are bad for bikes here. Good for cars, bad for bikes. Yesterday I took a look at a map of the area and decided to head west, where the best roads appeared to be. One hour later after navigating a slew of bike paths, cobbles, railroad grades and four lane roads, I wound up in the desired location. Of course the roads were no better and the appearance of a slightly smaller, yet equally congested town to Stuttgart did nothing for the route. Alas I turned around at 1.5 hours to make it into a splendid 3 hour ride… the knowledge that the next day I’d have to face the same roads for an additional two hours loomed inexplicably in the back of my mind…

9/27/2007
The gist of the problem acquired additional gravity when the forecast called for heavy showers the next day. Five hours in the rain on the roads of Stuttgart? Some people may get all excited under such circumstances, but I narrowed the options down to one… which didn’t include riding in either the rain or on the roads. Simple solution: ride on the trainer for five hours. After five hours: 206 watt average with six intervals of six minutes at 330 watts.

From Paris to Berlin

2007-09-25T11:43:00.000-07:00

Stuttgart, Germany
Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Welcome to Stuttgart. You can tell you’re in Germany because every 3rd car is a Mercedes, a BMW, or a Volkswagen. Stuttgart is not such a small town, and at the moment carries no charisma what so ever. But that can always change after the first day. I haven’t tried too hard yet, but it seems that the urban sprawl may be difficult to escape. Today I had a look at the road course, and given to the state of the roads being closed the daily traffic was most handily dealt with. In the coming days when I seek roads not on the course, the traffic may be a more trying problem. 3 days remain before the start of the 2007 road world championships.

Bennecourt to Paris
Monday, September 24, 2007

France isn’t so bad. Riding amongst the splendor of small town France makes you realize how different the world is from what you already know. I’m fairly confident that most of those who are born in Bennecourt don’t stray too far from it for the rest of their lives. I’m not the one saying there’s anything wrong with a lifestyle like that, being the one looking in on it’s just an interesting experience. When you’re going from place to place you tend to get the big picture but miss the stuff that makes it a culture. And I will be the one to tell you that there’s way too much going on to express the truth of the matter.
Contrary to popular belief and my own proclamation the French are well versed in English and as friendly as anyone, although they’re a proud people and expect you to respect their customs and mantra like it was your own. They’re really not altogether different than someone living in the US.
While staying in Bennecourt I didn’t do “anything” except train… although a tour of the local castle was made. Apparently all the castles in France are still intact, because every ride I went on I found a fresh one. I guess there was a massive one fairly close, but I wasn’t in the mood to go walking through a bunch of even older stuff when every building you affix your eyes to is as old as most of the stones on the ground. The one I toured wasn’t anything you wouldn’t expect in a castle. It had a mote thing, a big complex thing and a tower thing situated atop this rock stuff that looked like Calcite or something. The stairs up to the tower thing were carved up through the calcite making a cavern thing.
When the week or so of living in France came to an end it was over to Paris for my flight to Stuttgart via the Orly airport. In France, as all of Europe, the use of railroads is fairly popular. The rail from Bennecourt to Paris was superb, although I only took it part way. I found that should I decide to go all the way to the airport I would need to transfer 4 times… So on the train ride to Paris I decided the next step was not going to be a transfer to a train but to a taxi… which turned out to be a good idea ‘cause there’s stuff in Paris that is worth at least a glance. I wasn’t sure what part of town the airport and the train station were located but as soon as I got in the taxi I was blown away by Paris. It was more captivating than any city I’ve ever been in besides perhaps New York. And this was via taxi, looking out the window where busses roll through. There’s this road in Paris that has no lanes, quite perplexing really, that goes by stuff that looks important and probably have famous names. Of course this was all in a 10 minute window as we made our way to the Orly airport. Fortunately I turned my head quick enough to see the Ifle Tower disappear behind a building. I barely made my flight, arriving just over 3 hours before takeoff.

Bennecourt, FRA
Saturday, September 22, 2007

It’s beginning to feel a lot like… Fall, everywhere you go.... The first day here it was so hot that you could’ve delighted in the fig fields as they do in Spain. But the next day it was cold in the morning, during the day, in the afternoon and throughout the night. I’m not a hater of fall; I actually find it quite pleasant. A bit cool in the morning with more mild temperatures throughout the day just help to shake up the current pattern of life… which always get’s bleak after a long summer or… a long winter (changing of seasons). I know it seems strange, but I find the arrival of fall from summer a more welcome change than that of summer from spring. I guess the reasoning behind that’s not so hard to figure out.
In the last 4-5 days, whatever it’s been, I’ve been riding in and around the trivial town of Bennecourt. I’m not sure if it’d be considered a suburb of Paris or Bonniers or if Bonniers is a suburb of Paris or if it’s just a court of Benne… Alas, if nothing else it’s a town on a river that 70 km earlier ran through Paris. Regardless, the charm of the town and the surrounding area rivals any area and the riding is superb. Every time you get on a nice little road going in one direction a turn onto another road in another direction is insight… & it goes on like that from little town to little road to little town… castle/canal/cathedral/cobble road/skyrock.

nbet<>ween

2007-09-18T04:56:00.000-07:00

Bennecourt, FRANCE
Tuesday, September 18, 2007

It’s just like Greenville here. Rock the chair and walk the poodle, while evaluating the taste of authentic sausage, cheese and wine… listening to SKYROCK instead of the chronic.
There’s a lot that’s transpired since the arrival of the one in France for the route of the future. I guess it took about 8 days too long for me to get my legs under me, although I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered having missed the break that got the 6.5 minutes. Fortunately Craig was riding well and got in that break. You may think it’s lucky that he got in that move, but it’s not. I could cover every attack and still miss the one that sticks to the end. Guys like Craig and Danny cover 2 moves and get in the right one every time. I think Craig held out for 6th or 7th, which is stellar at an event like the tour de l’Avenir.
Here in Bennecourt a lot doesn’t happen. If you’re familiar with the Normandy region, you know what it’s like. Basically it’s flat, but wherever a river runs a valley is formed. So it becomes relatively flat with these rolling hills that can and tend to be of a grade that’s uncomfortable on a bike or barefoot or whatever. At the moment the weather stays fair, but the season at once calls for a turn towards rain and mushrooms ‘n stuff… But I’m only here until the 24th when I take the plane over to some town in Germany for Oktoberfest- returning home September 30th via Lufthansa.
Of course, “I’m sorry that the French aren’t innovative, and they have to listen to English music… you can put the blame on u.s.”

The tour of the future... unplugged

2007-09-09T12:57:00.000-07:00

HOTEL KYRIAD BLOIS
320 , RUE DE FEDERATION
41350 ST GERVAIS LA FORET

At the end of stage 4, Tour de l'Avenir
Sunday, September 9, 2007- 10:00pm (GMT +01:00)

The world’s been tossed around and thrown up ‘n down since however long it’s been… a week…? Two weeks…? It seems like a month or two. Maybe not. It’s hard to believe that I came home and came right back within a period of a couple weeks. Back to the rules set by the fools from the old school, France. I was home and everything was swell, the rain, the sun, the watts, the training… the whole lot of it. But then I got to US Pro and it all seemed to go to the restroom. Every time over the little hill it was like listening to the gunner thing on asteroids… pew, pew, pew! Essentially useless and altogether unworthy. I did all I could but it really wasn’t worth the trip. I never checked the wattage, but I’m assuming I didn’t have quite the punch I’d had 5 days before in training. By the time I was completely and utterly dropped (50 meters before the start of the climb on the fourth lap), I felt like I’d just fallen off the side of Mt. Everest. I was actually debating the reasoning behind even getting on the plane for the tour de l’Avenir after feeling so pitiful. But after a night in the Hyatt, hearing some chronic and sipping iced tea in the ATL I decided that things couldn’t get any worse. I hauled two bikes and my bag down to the lobby and let the good folks who run the shuttle figure out the logistics.On the flight to Paris I managed to get no sleep and acquire what felt like an inch of dirty lather… which basically makes you feel dirty. I got off the plane and onto a bus where I finally set foot on French soil. Once in the security area I pulled a sweet move and ended up eluding the line which swarmed ahead. I’m not sure how, it just happened… and I walked on by with my pass-port in my hand and baggage claim on my mind. 45 minutes later I asked where my stuff was and discovered that I was in a bona-fide missing luggage situation. 5 hours later, after an entirely sleepless night covered in an inch of lather, my luggage arrived from Atlanta on the next flight. I didn’t ask anymore questions or yell, or maim anyone, or anything. I just got my stuff out of there… entirely intent on never seeing any of them again. Fortunately, in the last 7 or 8 or however many days it’s been things have “just been getting better.”

Update

2007-08-26T10:19:00.000-07:00

North Bend, WA
Sunday, August 26th 2007

Cloud coverage: complete
Rainfall: flood warning
August burn ban: in effect...? Chance of forest fire: 0%
Attempted suicides in the NW: classified
Number of roundabouts constructed in the last 4 months: 2
Number of attempts to start my car after 4 months: 1
Number of 2 year contracts signed: 1
Pounds gained by the family cat in the last 4 months: (-)5
5 min max wattage: 435
1 min max wattage: 541

Schedule
US pro championships: sept 2. Greenville, SC USA
Tour de l'avenir: ~sept 6-15. France
u23 or pro world championships: ~end of september. Germany

An abrupt end

2007-08-12T13:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was probably the most depressing thing that's ever happened to me on a bike. It seems like ever since Catalunya came to a close it's either been a fierce battle or all down hill. Yesterday started out with a metavolanta and then a short bout with a cat 3. Over the metavolanta I didn't feel so good, but I was also far from the front and attributed the extra fight to hanging in the back. But as soon as it slowed and a break formed I sought refuge in the front. But then when we hit the cat 3, times were still harsh and before I knew it I was falling to the back again, pretty soon I was off the back. I thought I'd be able to fight back on, but guys started dropping back for bottles. I couldn't believe it... I was going all out and these guys were coming back for bottles, something you usually do when it's easier to get back on. Before we crested the cat 3 I was out the back, through the cars and in a fairly desperate situation... as Johnny put it: "set yourself up for a real battle."
I thought I'd catch up with a group dropped over the 1st cat 1 to come, but I ended up riding the remainder of the race alone, some 110 kilometers. When I finished I was 40 minutes down and 5 minutes outside the time cut. With 4 days of racing still to go, I can say that I barely made it through half the race... something I wouldn't have imagined happening in my worst dream, ever. The longer the race the better, but, something happened, and bang... everything that I'd learned and thought true... gone. I'm left sitting here thinking about how out of place I am at a race when I too am not racing. Using the suave race hotel and watching the team staff and my team mates do their race thing makes me feel desperately out of place... all these people do all this stuff to get me to this race and I can't even race... 2 months ago I'd of thought I'd be winning by now, not struggling to finish.

Portugal- rest day

2007-08-10T06:23:00.000-07:00

Portugal
10 de agosta de 2007

The tour of portugal has turned out to be slightly different than I'd imagined. Everyone had said it was hard, but that's turned out to be a bit of an understatement. They go up the hills here so fast that you don't even have a chance to get in line. Yesterday I watched the finish on the tv from my hotel room. It was a finish atop a 4km 3rd category climb that featured a "field sprint" with the liberty seguros team leading out candido barbosa, aka barbacoa, at 45 km an hour on a hill of ~7%. I watched it and then thought about how I got dropped 2 km before the finish and yet barbacoa still had 2 guys to lead him out despite the fact that his entire team had been reeling back the break away for the past 30 km. Not to say that it's impossible or anything, maybe just not plausible... at all. Not to mention that the guý's apparently 75 kilos and 5 foot 5.
The next day he won the "field sprint" atop a cat 2 climb to the finish. Perfectly reasonable.

Tour of Portugal

2007-08-04T13:43:00.000-07:00

PORTUGAL
4 - 4 - 2007

The tour of portugal is off to a swell start. The prologue was an out and back with a quick loop of a round-about acting as the turn around. Pre-riding the course I did the turn around rather rapidly & decided that I could take it even quicker in the race. I came into it super hot in the race and went down even faster, making a superb debut into another 11 days of racing. Crash number one of 2007...

Via portugal

2007-07-17T09:55:00.000-07:00

Girona, ES
17/07/2007

Portugal's got the whole racing thing down, and they absolutely know how to run a good race. The hotel we stayed in was just outside Santa Cruz on the beach. And the beach was nice, it had the whole deal... the sand, the waves, the occasional boat, the sun... and what would be a nice lazy vacation if we weren't racing.
The racing in Portugal is all-in. The terrain is endlessly rolling with the occasional 2 km 20% climb with the 3rd category rating which absolutely everyone goes for. &, to add to the fun there's not one rider who isn't on the full program...
I thought I'd come into the race with much better legs than it turned out. In the end it was more of a day to day thing than overall, though I was nowhere near taking a stage, rather I was more able to enter the mix and follow a move or two by the end of the race. I think in the end it was good preparation for what's to come in the tour of Portugal, and certainly a heads up as to how they'll be going: insanely and slightly unbelievably well.

Blue

2007-07-07T00:53:00.000-07:00

The life and times of Spain: Blue

Where am I? What time is it? Who am I?

2007-07-05T00:44:00.000-07:00

Girona, ES
Thursday, July 5, 2007
ES 10:02 AM / Pacific NW 1:02 AM

The problem with our apartment is that the winding passage of stairs up to the third floor not only is too narrow, but also clad with stairs of a similar likeness. This is not a problem for the average "consumer" (whether they're Spanish or not... of course it helps if you're euro- then you are most adept at fitting in tight places), but for he who wilds not only a bike but the shoes for riding it, the descent is altogether treacherous. If you were to apply a rating to the descent, I'd give it 9.8 out of 10- with 10 representing he who, in frustration, jumps from the balcony to elude the bedlam synonymous with the winding dark, save the bit of sunlight trickling in from the vary top, vertigo of our stairs.

Of course, the fourth of July came and went with little animation. Indeed, the spanish seemed to have finally exhausted their supply of fireworks from a week ago. I have no idea what they were celebrating, in fact I missed the real calamity while riding the Route of the south, but of course they had enough explosives left to draw celebration out another week or two... lighting off small bombs during my ongoing moment of siesta- which effectively stirr a fleeting feeling from within that perhaps the town was under attack by some unfriendly group of rebels. Regardless of the onslaught I jumped to the conclusion that is was of little relevance to the US independence day.

Fire at will

2007-07-02T23:22:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Girona 8:24 am /pnw usa 11:24 pm

I was reading the article on the latest attacks in Glasgow, and it said that police were hunting for the suspects of the bombing or whatever... and it showed a picture of two police officers standing in the airport holding machine guns. If they spot a suspicious guy they can just hose down the whole place... maybe get some of the suspicious bystanders while they're at it. Maybe it's just for show or something: "we mean business, but we're here to party." In Spain they have revolvers. When the protests for catalunya indepencia happen they bring in the policia special ops, who've got the red berets and the shiny boots, the swanky HOV van... but no machine gun.

No HOV lane here either, what's up with that?

Jaksche

2007-06-30T23:25:00.000-07:00

"Cycling per se is not fun. It always hurts. The sport is a lot about pain, physical pain. Workouts are the attempt to increase your performance so you won't get dropped. And so it won't hurt so much first there was cortisone, then EPO and today it is fresh blood. Cycling is a difficult sport. A soccer player can run 90 minutes like a fool over the field, but if he scores the decisive goal in overtime he's the hero. In cycling, you get dropped in 99 out of 100 races, even when you give it everything. It hurts, all the time; but you still are successful only a few times."

Cynical about the future, he said, "Of course, no one held my arm for the injection, but team leaders, who got rich off you in the past, who supplied the things, they are now pretending to push for a clean sport... . Nobody liked doping; neither a Stanga nor a Riis... . I was told by one rider that there are deals between some teams and the UCI concerning the training controls. So one has to assume that there is no general change going on. This rider told me that proudly. Then I knew: Nothing has changed."

Jörg Jaksche confessed Saturday to using banned substances and practicing blood doping to enhance his performance.

Jaksche admits taking banned substances & blood doping

I can't really say much or I'll sound naive, but it looks like this dude got the worst of both worlds. It doesn't seem to me that doping is too mainstream in any of the races I've done. If it were I don't reckon I'd have ever thought winning was possible and indeed quite probable.

Good to go

2007-06-29T07:20:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Friday, June 29, 2007
4:28 pm Girona, ES / 7:28 am Pacific NW, USA

It seems like it's been a long time coming, but I'm finally back to 100%. Today I went out for 3 hours and felt extraordinary. For the first time in 2 weeks, there's no illness and no shoe problems. Muí Bueno, eh?

Not quite right

2007-06-28T11:57:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Thursday, June 28, 2007
España 8:59pm / Pacific NW USA 11:59am

Today I figured it was best to beat the heat with a little time on the trainer. So at 9:30 sharp, I hit the trainer for a short 30 minutes interval. At which point I jumped off and spun around for another 30 minutes near Sant Gregory. Through which, alas, I believe I finally got my cleats into a position quite usable by me. I was a bit worried at the outset of things, for my hip was beginning to take a terrible turn to the left... but after conferring with several sources I decided that at once the problem must be dealt with and the position fixed. The solution was most bizarre, but indeed if history had been consulted a quick fix´d have been in store. Every time that I reposition my cleats I want to make them as symetrical as possible, yet for some reason or another, my feet do not cooperate when the cleats are positioned as such. So today I arrived at such a position that the state of each cleat was in no way similiar to the other. In fact, a quick glance would promote the thought that two shoes of the same size lay afront of you, yet the mysterious and altogether baffling asymetrical state of the cleats would prompt further examination... and perhaps betray thy eye as the beholder concludes that two shoes of different persons lie afoot.

That´s a negative ghost rider, the pattern is full

2007-06-27T05:04:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
2:06 PM España, 5:06 AM Pacific NW, USA

I´m getting the itch to get back on the bike, it´s kind of an addiction, but I guess if you stopped going to work for a couple days when you felt you should be working you´d feel as though something were amiss too.

I´ve been thinking a lot about what I´ve found elusive since the beginning of the year and It´s so apparent and absolutely necessary... I need to win. I need to win something, anything... just to win. I guess not anything, I´ve already won ¨something,¨ but perhaps something that people actually have heard about, would be nice. I guess this is what the plan´s always been though.

I´ve been forgetting to tell ya´ll about something, that I´ve found quite interesting, entertaining & all together life threatening. It´s RyanAir, similiar to King County Metro, but with wings. The fare is similiar... okay maybe not, but in relative terms it is... $20 if you book the flight a couple months ahead of time... for a ¨swift¨ride on the bus from North Bend to Bellevue and back it´d be around $4-$5. They (ryan air) use old millitary bases for their airports and receive funding from the little towns located a short jaunt from the nearest big city for the proceeds provided by lingering tourists... i.e Girona is to Barcelona as Issaquah is to Seattle (If you think about it, it´s an excellent way to bring airfares down, but the budgeting doesn´t stop there.) They use only 737s, so the aviators have only to be trained in the piloting of 25 year old 737s. Security exists but it´s so swift that you can arrive 45 minutes ahead of your flight and make it with plenty of time. Seating is Southwest style: first come, first serve. And the seats aren´t leather, and there is no foot room. It´s like riding a bus that has seat belts, the bus is a bit smoother though... But here comes the best part of all.
If you go to drivers ed and are trained on an automatic, yet are book smart on a manual... does that mean you can drive a manual? Uhh... yes? It´ll just be a real bumpy ride... Welcome to Ryan air. The take off is absolutely full throttle, no waiting around for air traffic control to give the go ahead, it´s all systems go from the get-go. Elevation 0 to 40,000 in 15 seconds. Unfortunately the take-off´s not too different from the landing. The pilot comes over the intercom and lets everyone know that we´ll be landing in 15 minutes... of coures this doesn´t mean we´ll be starting our descent now, it means in 15 minutes we´ll both be starting our descent and our landing. After 15 seconds of free-fall the pilot is usually having exceptional trouble getting the nose straight, so he lands it slightly to the left or right with one wheel before bouncing a dozen times and wrenching on the e-brake... at which point the nose finally straightens out. Everyone´s prayers are answered and the passengers break out in applause. After substantial skidding and a near miss with the runway the plane comes to a hault and everyone jumps up to fight for position euro-style.
Ryan Air... aka-pilot training school.

Wily thieves

2007-06-26T08:06:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Tuesday, June 26, 2007

I went to the cafe today to use their internet, and I met this guy who spoke english. He was real friendly like until he found out that I rode bikes... after that he had not a thing to say. He said he was from Sevilla, maybe people from there don´t like bikes. I don´t know. He thought I was from England first, then I told him I was from Seattle. Oh! No wonder you sound English, British Colombia obviously has a profound influence on Seattle. I don´t know about that, but I´ll grant that he´s exceptionally savvy with his geography.
I was just trying (when I was interrupted) to get the low-down on the life and times of seattle via the live radio stream of kiss 106.1 over the internet. Evidently it´s to be sunny in the 80´s... quite well indeed. & trying to cancel my bank & credit cards again... because someone is living large off them at the moment. Someone in Barcelona... Someone who had enough of my information to activate them... Someone who intercepted them in the mail in route to girona... Most mysterious indeed.

Looking forward

2007-06-25T10:01:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Monday, June 25, 2007

I did route du sud and it wasn´t quite the result I´d been hoping for. In fact, it was of such a nature that had I not been ill I would have been in an absolutely desolate and worthless situation. Fortunately, with Route du sud in the books, I now have several weeks to get a handle on the illness and begin once more to build for the precurser to the tour of portugal... at the moment the name eludes me.
In Girona the temperature has continued to increase, & if history has anything to say about the future only more of the same is to come in the months that follow. Certainly Portugal will be anything but cool, I presume that it´ll be similiar to death valley in it´s most radiant moment... No doubt summer should be in full swing on July 11th in both portugal and death valley.

La route du sud... wie, wie

2007-06-19T10:24:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Next on the schedule is la route du sud. A race very much suited to my strengths with plenty of climbing, and not much of anything else. Since Catalunya I've been counting the days until this race, but then the catastrophe of the Basque Country occurred... leaving me calculating the time in which it'll take me to recover against the time until the race. At once (1.5 days), it seems that the Bronchitis is very much still alive, the infection is gone but the mucus remains and makes awful & most regrettable attempts to strangle me as I endeavor to press on the pedals.

By the way... if you don't like what I've gotta say, then move on. 'cause odds are that the feeling's mutual. If you say something I don't like, then I, acting as, Comentario suprimido, will utter as follows:

"El administrador del blog ha eliminado esta entrada."

Keep your negative analysis, your superior thoughts, & your credentials to yourself. If you want to read it then read it, if you want to revise it, spit on it, or ridicule it then move on.

Climbing

2007-06-16T11:12:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Saturday, June 16, 2007

In Spain the weather goes from hot to hotter in the Summer. There's no spring, at least not that I've seen. After taking a short hiatus following the sickness, I got back on the bike yesterday entirely forgetting the sanctity provided by sunscreen- and got a burn done a bit over-easy. Today it was quite cloudy, yet I forgot not the sunscreen quite aware that here the rays are unhindered by a light covering of clouds. I took the 5 hours of riding today and made a loop of the two best climbs around (they're actually the only exceptional climbs I know of that are quite near); Saint Hillary and "the Amer climb." Amer is this "Sacalm" on top of a mountain where some people live... there's actually a bit of a farm up there, but I think they spend more time checking out the view than farming. Saint Hillary is similar that it is on top of a mountain, but the church is the main attraction here... There are a few more people residing on the top of Saint Hillary than Amer's Sacalm. Saint Hillary is 7 km long and quite steep... it takes something like 30 minutes. Amer is 9 km long and ~40 takes minutes, it has a much more consistent grade. The only thing that Spain has going for it are it's roads and weather.

Americano!

2007-06-13T04:48:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Since not much is happening here, except that the condition of my illness seems to be getting worse despite a daily dosage of antibiotics normally prescribed to those who've caught Anthrax. I'd presume that Anthrax antibiotics would be quite potent, but evidently whatever I've got is giving 'em quite a battle.
That's not what I wanted to write about though. I was thinking about America and how much better it is there than it is here. And I got to thinking about this little situation we got ourselves into after the Grimpeurs race near Paris. Evidently someone left a light on or something in the camper, & of course no one had jumper cables... and definitely no one in France has ever jumped a car (especially if they're American) so... we started pushing the camper (quite light indeed) on this little one way road as every team tried to exit on the same road. The idea was that we would pop start it. I don't have much experience here, but I guess the idea is that you get it rolling, and start it in 2nd gear. I guess somehow this generates a spark or something that starts the engine. We tried this multiple times to no avail.
This is where some typical French sentiment was offered. I was pushing the camper with a teammate or two and a handful of very enthusiastic French spectators, when some comment was generated from a group of spectators who were spectating our situation. In reply one of the helping spectators said "Americano!" This cleared up all confusion generated by the situation, and the spectating spectators looked at each other and said awh, Americano!" obviously liberated from the ambiguity of a stalled camper being pushed. It may seem puzzling to you why the French would be so surprised that someone pushes there car, but the answer is simplistic in that the French are in no hurry at all. They'd rather get out of their car and yell at the person they're holding up than consider the notion of perhaps pushing their car. Eventually we got the camper to a downhill section and got a good solid pop and a roar from the diesel below the hood of our high quality fiat motor home. Italiano, eh? Awe, Italiano!

Euskal Bizikletta

2007-06-12T01:55:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
June 12, 2007

The lot of us ventured westward for the Euskal Bizikletta- a race held in the Basque region of Spain. As you probably know, there's something of a conflict underway among the Basque, so the arrival of local militia men from the hills isn't altogether uncommon. Regardless of the state of the militia the region is quite spectacular. Where we are staying the mountains are right up against the coast with virtually no flat terrain anywhere. The mountains aren't so small either, I'd guess that the highest is probably around 3500 feet, but that's straight from sea level to 3500, which is rather intimidating at a bike race.
Nevertheless, I only had an afternoon to gawk at the scenery, because that night I came down with a fever and spent the night figuring out where I was. That morning I woke up and felt a bit better and decided to race. That I think was a bit of a mistake. I finished the race, but promptly ignited the fever & a whole host of other symptoms. I didn't start the next day and stayed in bed for 36 hours. But, the big news wasn't the fact that I didn't finish the race, it was that indeed not one of us were able to finish. Shortly after I was viciously assaulted by the Basque bug, it made it's way most discretely around to every single one of my team mates. By the last day only one of us lined up on the start line... and it wasn't a healthy I'm ready to go, kind of line up... it was a wait, wait! I have to go throw up real quick kind of a line up. Timmy defied the angry imp within for 80 km before staggering up another hill and throwing up for the 20th time caused him to throw in the towel in frustration. Regardless, 80 km in a state as such is quite a feat.
The next race on my schedule is Route du Sud... hopefully what happened there last year, happened at Euskal Bizikletta this year. Otherwise...

Nueva entrada

2007-05-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

I got back from the tour of catalunya only to get my bag full of just about everything I need, stolen! I reported it to the policía and after tallying it all up, found the total to be 2000 euros. I think perhaps the credit cards that were in there have some sort of insurance for stuff like this...

Stolen: computer, camera, cell phone, gps unit, wallet, passport... muí bueno, eh?

Trophee Grimpeurs

2007-05-17T01:58:00.000-07:00

Paris, FRA
Thursday, May 17, 2007

In a bizarre turn of events, the reigning second place finisher of the '06 Tour of France is implicated in operation Puerto? "I know from my heart, that I am the true winner..." Right, okay. It seems that more than a few of the winners had hearts pumping an abnormal amount of blood. But I will refrain from an inconclusive conclusion.
At once, I await the start of Trophee Grimpeurs- a race that, from what I've heard, is an all out sparring match along an 8km circuit complete with a 600 meter hill of 10%. It's only 18 laps, so it'll be like taking candy from an imp...

Do it shine in the light? Is it platinum, is it gold?

2007-05-14T10:29:00.000-07:00

Girona, ESP
Sunday, May 13, 2007

After a brief stay at the Historic, my mates and I are hang’n out in the ghetto. The short walk across the river and into the working part of town made an unprecedented change in the quality of residence about. In the “old town,” across the river, everyone was either a tourist or too rich care, but here the people mingle in the true fashion of the country- making for a much more realistic experience. Regardless, we’ve at most glanced over our shoulders riding through here, but now were liv’n it and learning the reality of the whole thang.

Girona, ESP
Friday, May 11, 2007

After careful thought I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s nothing to do in Girona. Although at first glance people seem to scurry about in route to activity, the truth is that they’re either a- shopping or b- eating… both of which require a hefty jaunt about town… none of which I’m interested in on a regular basis.
So what does that leave me to do? Nothing. I ride, eat and sleep. I’m certain that the people in Girona don’t shop and eat out every day, so as to what they do the rest of the time… your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps they watch TV… of course the language on all but one channel is Spanish, German or French.

Cinco de Mayo

2007-05-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

Silver City, NM
Friday, May 04, 2007

A festive Cinco de Mayo it will be... for today I ensnared my first victory.

The Gila

2007-04-30T20:41:00.000-07:00

Silver City, NM
Monday, April 30, 2007

After a series of uneventful flights I’ve arrived in Silver City again. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, Silver City actually brings back a lot of memories from the beginning of my affiliation with Slipstream Sports. The training camp last year was here, and although it seems like it was some time ago, it’s been just one short year. I’d forgotten that we stayed at this holiday inn until I got in & each hallway was too familiar to be true.
I’ve never done this race, but I’ve ridden each road and climb at least a dozen times. Not to mention that in the last three days the Gila team and I have climbed over 28,000 feet. With Gila’s status as a climbing race there’s no excuse for 2nd.

Take'n it slow

2007-04-28T17:42:00.000-07:00

Colorado
Saturday, April 28, 2007

Today I did 5 sets of recovery intervals within two hours to speed the healing of the past week. With recovery intervals it's very simple and relegated primarily to Boulder- you turn onto highway 36 and ride at a leisurely 170 watts waiting for an enthusiast to blow by you like they’re go’n easy. The preferable enthusiast wears the discovery channel kit and rides a time trial bike. You speed up and get in their draft until you feel well recovered. Boulder is the only place where you have enough enthusiasts to make the experience 100% guaranteed, you’ve just gotta make sure not to get an enthusiast who’s too fast... ‘cause their pretty intense ‘round here.

The dirty fix

2007-04-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

Colorado
Friday, April 27, 2007

A moment’s elapsed since I’ve been here in Colorado, and I’ve realized that the world does in fact revolve around this particular region… with emphasis on the Boulder part. There’s no reason why downtown traffic should come to a dead stop at 5:00, other than the possibility that people come from far and wide to experience the sacred grounds of Boulder. Certainly Boulder business couldn’t generate traffic of such, in which case I attribute the sudden “swell” downtown to the surrounding population… who evidently need to get their fix. Of course it would all be inexplicable ‘cause no one in their right mind needs a Boulder fix- but since it's Colorado it makes perfect sense. Regardless, I seem to be of the minority on my opinion of Boulder, so I won’t hold your Boulder love against you.
Roads ‘round here are good though. Every road out of Boulder seems to make a different route to the peak to peak highway, which with 2000 feet per route makes a formidable amount of climbing comparable to anywhere in the US. So given all these roads you’d think the training camp would be great. No. Since they have so many good paved roads we decide to ride on dirt. Perhaps riding on dirt’s okay, but steep 20+ percent climbs? You can’t stand up or accelerate because you’ll just spray dirt. I guess it’s fine if it’s all you have, but with perfect paved roads… what’s the point?

& the stars move into position

2007-04-25T12:00:00.001-07:00

Colorado
Wednesday, April 25, 2007

If the sun shines and the temperature is good, does it call for a fine day? Will the pedals churn effortlessly and the watts flow easily? What is the circumstance that requires victory? Is it in the day or the mind… or is it something unconscious? Perhaps it’s something deeper, something more physiological... The perfect alignment of muscle and mind.
Whatever the case, I continue to await the alignment that wins races.

Plan B

2007-04-19T17:26:00.000-07:00

Make the break or initiate the break tomorrow. If Lucus gets in it, he accumulates more points to take the overall. If he doesn't, then I win each kom and take the stage (400 watts up brasstown)... baby steps ya know...

Plan A

2007-04-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

For winning the Tour of Georgia...
380-400 watts in the tt
and
400 watts up Brasstown.

Leaving, on a jet plane

2007-04-11T10:49:00.000-07:00

Tour of Georgia (Georgia)

Tour of the Gila (New Mexico)

Volta a Catalunya (Spain)

Slipp'n 'n slide'n

2007-04-09T22:50:00.001-07:00

North Bend, WA
Monday, April 09, 2007

Seattle is but a short jaunt from that which the world revolves around (North Bend, WA)… With its sprawling population of 5000, I was a bit bewildered to why the race I was off to on Sunday wasn’t just held here in town. Cycling enthusiasts are actually abound here; the pick-up with the “red-neck” sticker is a front.
Needless to say, the criterium was in Seattle, so I took the chance to make the commute part of my race- I thought it was quite industrious really. Anyway, it was a four hour ride, and when I left it was nice ‘n sunny. When I arrived at the race, it was quite cloudy, & moments later it was raining just hard enough to completely soak everything. The ground looked more slippery than ever, & I’d heard rumors of a particular corner being exceptionally treacherous. So I sent Jonathan a quick text to get his take on the situation. He said to either bag it or sit in the back. But after listening to some of the local hotshots muse over ruining their chances for tst by crashing I knew I was gonna make a race of it whether it was slick or not. Just to spite them- hmmm, so you’re not gonna do it ‘cause you’re afraid of crashing out of tst… I’m doin’ it and I’m doing Georgia…
Alas, I was definitely the sketchiest guy out there. I couldn’t figure out why, but every time around corner two, I was sliding somehow no matter how I approached it. I even got the two wheel slide going once… which to me seems, when it’s wet, almost impossible without crashing. I’m gonna have to chalk that up onto my list of many things to ponder (bet you don’t have one of those…). Despite my lack of cornering skill I gave it a go. A group of nine kind of rode away, it was probably from one of the many gaps I initiated around the turn, and ended up winning by some 20 seconds. I suppose it was good training, but that’s a fun one when it’s dry… maybe next year, eh?

US Open

2007-04-07T23:47:00.000-07:00

2 americans in the top ten... go figure...

U.S. Open Cycling Championships Williamsburg- Richmond, VA. April 7
1. Svein Tuft (Can), Symmetrics, 112mi in 4:19:102.
2. Pat McCarty (USA), Slipstream-Chipotle, at 0:413.
3. Alejandro Borrajo (Arg), Rite Aid, same time
4. Russell Downing (GB), Health Net-Maxxis, s.t.
5. Andrew Pinfold (Can), Symmetrics, s.t
6. John Fredy Celada Parra (Col), Tecos, s.t
7. Trent Wilson (Aus), Jittery Joes, s.t.
8. Viktor Rapinski (Blr) Navigators Insurance, s.t.
9. Alex Candelario (USA), Jelly Belly, s.t.
10. Valeriy Kobzarenko (Ukr), Navigators Insurance, s.t.

Congrats to Pat though, for representing the team and the country...

Show stop'n

2007-04-03T12:21:00.000-07:00

North Bend, WA
Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Bellingham, WA
Over the weekend I headed due north for two races. The first one was at 8:00am… so I left home at 4:00am. I didn’t sleep that night just knowing that I’d have to wake up at 4 to drive to Bellingham. Whether I’ve slept or not doesn’t often faze me though. At the start line I took the chance to jest with the official over the necessity of an 8am start & the similarity of it to the days of old when I was mountain bike racing as a junior and the many unsettling 8:00am starts I endured back then. I thought it quite dense back then too, perhaps more so. Nevertheless, Criterium International took the chance to give the 8am start a go too, so perhaps it’s good preparation for what’s to come. Of course, the time did not faze me at all; in fact, it may have dulled the pain. After the race I extended the effort for 1.5 hours, making it a bit more realistic.

Sequim, WA
After the Bellingham race, it was a bit of a jaunt down through Whidbey Island to the Keystone ferry terminal, where I had the pleasant experience of watching the ferry from a distance as it departed across the sound. The ferries run every 1.5 hours, so I had a good chance to sit and ponder my existence amongst the various forms of beached driftwood along the shore.
The ferry ride from Whidbey Island to Port Townsend was 30 minutes, followed by a 45 minute drive over to Sequim. I stayed at the Great House Motel that night and slept until 10am the next morning.
The race started at 1pm & it was absolutely frigid. I have no idea why… But the wind was quite unrelenting and despite being in the “Olympic Rain Shadow” the rain began halfway through the race. The combination made for quite a pleasant experience. I was kind of banking on the two of them to not come simultaneously, the wind is supposed to blow away the clouds and rain… right? I guess not, evidently the wind brought the rain and clouds. So I did the race, changed and road for another 2.5 hours after the race. After all was said and done, I had done 5 hours and 55 minutes and a total of 5200 kjs…

Show Stop'n: I won the one in Bellingham by a minute, and the one in Sequim by 10 minutes…

That which follows are "photos" of Puget Sound & the Keystone Port Townsend ferry.

Air time

2007-03-30T11:30:00.000-07:00

North Bend, WA

Friday, March 30, 2007

Yesterday it was sunny. I noticed that when the sun comes out, the people tend to come out too. I was so excited to ride that I went out to ride at 1:00pm. I think there’s something to be said for riding in the afternoon despite its status as indolent. If you leave for a 5 hour ride at 1:00pm, then you get back at 6:00pm. Most people get home from work at 6, so it feels like you’re getting back from a long day in the office. In Spain it’s worse though, I’ve gotta ride at 5:00pm if I want to be returning from the office the same time as everyone else; 10:00pm. Unfortunately, I can’t say that I never did that while I was there… The approach to our apartment is much more treacherous in the dark.

While I was wandering about on my bike yesterday, I accumulated 8500 feet. On my way home I had a short glimpse of Mount Rainier & noticed the way it towers over everything else at 14,410 feet… & to notice that I’d climbed almost half way up it was a startling observation… quite startling indeed, like when you’re hiking a steep grade for 30 minutes and turn around to check out the view only to receive that fleeting feeling as though you were in danger of falling off the side of the world. Maybe it wasn’t quite like that, more a majestic awe type feeling.

In transit

2007-03-27T09:26:00.000-07:00

LAX, CA
Monday, March 26, 2007

It’s difficult for me to grasp the magnitude of global travel. You arrive at the airport and suddenly you’re in a new little world. One where no one knows anyone and everyone is going to and coming from somewhere else. Each person contributes a little to the world in an almost inaudible way, yet each flight arrives in a place completely different than that of where it departed. It’s hard for me to imagine that as I sit here at LAX, people stroll by on there way to a new gate fresh off the plane from somewhere I can hardly imagine to do something that I will probably not even know happened yet is essential to the overall productivity of the world. Then, think of all the people scurrying about at LAX and realize that it is only one of 1000’s of airports around the world.

The art of war

2007-03-24T21:31:00.000-07:00

Redlands, CA
Saturday, March 24, 2007

It’s important to note how the changes in the world effect the global expectations. For instance, consider the world before technology and how humanity has “evolved” to incorporate the world as we know it… Once, when the Neanderthals roamed the world with audacity, grunting and beating their chests in communication, the “anger” was the brilliance behind their ability to defend themselves and win the meal. Slowly, communication changed and the world became “civilized…” Now, only athletes posses the audacity to slay, and even then it is tempered only to win/wound, not kill. So when the likes of my team and I are dueling on the way up a hill you’ll know what exactly is on our minds… all I want to do is hurt the next guy, I want him to feel the burn so bad that he’d rather be dead. And yes, that is the mindset. I know you think it’s uncivilized, but it’s about what it takes, and if you can’t deal with it, perhaps some Tylenol is in line. Remember, deep down, we’re all Neanderthals…

The shades that reflect reality

2007-03-22T16:12:00.000-07:00

March 22, 2007
Redlands, CA

You know that feeling when the horizon is so bright that you can’t think or even consider your next move until a moment passes? Yet even when that moment does pass, the horizon just begins to shine brighter… I’ve considered this so many times now. The world is one big bright sphere of potential with no actual reality. Everything is “this could be that” and “that could be this…” Nothing is actually set in stone. When I take a look into the future many visions appear, but each time I look, the sight is so bright that I can’t make sense of even one of them.
Maybe soon, perhaps quite soon, the future will emerge and what it holds will become clear…

Push-ups and pull-ups in seclusion

2007-03-12T21:02:00.000-07:00

North Bend, WA
Monday, March 12, 2007

I suppose the suspense that awaits this post is immense; unfortunately I don’t have much to offer it. Nothing worthy of my writing has occurred of late, indeed, even the intrigue of my thought has eluded me. It’s been the simple routine of training and eating combined with a bit of sleep. I find this to be the formula for success. I suppose I could live atop a mountain armed only with a trainer and bike and still kick it with the best of ‘em while maintaining a level headed approach to life. I guess that depends on your definition of “level headed” though. The strange part about the immediate situation is that I find myself a week at the routine when at once it feels as though a day has past… Most unusual, it is perhaps an amplification of the mental utopia. When you know you have a week of 4-5 hour rides, every moment of every day is consumed by thought of those rides, which effectively turns those days into 4-5 hour days. I’ve never realized how that worked until now though.
Aside from the well-being of I and the most routine spin of the Earth at once, I did recently discover that Redlands is actually less than 2 weeks from now. I suppose that would be due in part to the speed at which the past week has moved.

How to throw the K.O

2007-03-05T22:55:00.000-08:00

Here's 1 clip for you and here's another.

Training in motion

2007-03-04T20:48:00.000-08:00

North Bend, WA
Sunday, March 04, 2007

Today was my first real day of training since returning from California. I went out on an easy four hour ride and ended up feeling great. Tomorrow I will do the same thing, except a bit harder and a bit longer- just to ease back into training.
The case with the weather here in Washington is often not as it should be, so it’s been a while since I actually set out on a ride in motion (not on the trainer). Nevertheless, the weather changed with a partly cloudy sky, no rain, and a temperature of 56 degrees. Perhaps the change of weather is symbolic and represents the end of my illness and a fresh new start after a short but recuperating break.

The gait of triumph

2007-03-02T22:11:00.000-08:00

North bend, WA
Friday, March 02, 2007

The predicament of mine at once is that the training is momentarily on hold. For me, and dissimilar to many of my rivals, preparation is a chance to get an edge on everyone who shows up to the race not wearing argyle. If training is not underway, the feeling is terribly of waste. That is the feeling immediately. I understand of course, that if I were to train right now, it would probably jeopardize the next couple weeks of training, or even, similar to last year, leave me sort of sick for the rest of the year.
Today I rode 2 hours. Yesterday: 2 hours. The day before that: 1 hour. Tomorrow: 2 hours. Then, maybe, I’ll begin the preparation that wins races again.

Foot on the gas... slowly...

2007-02-28T23:41:00.000-08:00

North Bend, WA
Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Great news! It hasn’t rained since I returned… it’s only snowed. I’m not sure what to think. You put March 01 and Washington together and 28 times out of 29 you get rain. But that’s fine; my preparation for the Tour of Georgia is officially in progress as of tomorrow. I seem to be recovered from my latest illness, so I’m gonna go ahead and give the trainer a go for an hour tomorrow- mainly just to see how I feel and whether or not to really begin with the push-ups and jumping-jacks.
After our performance at the tour of California I’m absolutely enthralled with the thought of oilin’ up the v12 for a bit of training… Just gotta take it slow as to not over heat it.

Dealing a fatal blow to the Belgian on the KOM...

I don't know... is that me?

In the red

2007-02-27T17:32:00.000-08:00

North Bend, WA
Tuesday, February 27, 2007

The wave of today was one that left the investments of mine in a state of trouncing. Indeed, I’ve learned to diversify (through trial and error), yet an equal blow was dealt to all… So the choice of what to do at once is limited, I’ve deliberated and decided to wait and ride the wave rather than sell everything to make up for the loss. Since once more becoming ill I’ve looked into a couple of options with the team doctor in an effort to quell my abnormal susceptibility to the weather. The immediate option of course was the closed file on possible surgical intervention. We will see, and with any luck, perhaps I will race the rest of the year without the plague darkening the path of mine ahead.

In the meantime, if you choose to travel to Uganda heed the advise of Mr. Andronico's short, but wise video.

Tour of California

2007-02-26T16:18:00.000-08:00

San Fran to Long Beach
19th to 25th of February

The Tour of California this year was of exceptional motivation to the team and I. I’d venture that our preparation this year was quite perfect. We knew exactly what we needed to do from the start & it seemed to pan out in the beginning- Jason in second, Taylor & I in leaders jerseys, & Danny sitting well on GC. But then it all kind of fell apart. I missed three breaks essential to maintaining the KOM jersey, & managed once more to fall victim to a cold on stage 3. In the time trial we were not up to par with the faster guys and fell farther back on GC. In the end we made all of the breaks and Danny managed to ensnare the Most Aggressive rider’s final Jersey.
Although our team seemed quite impressive to the likes of many of you, we were hoping for a larger step. Perhaps this is always the case, yet as we grow I will continue to expect our larger steps to yield more (exponential?) ground. This will be apparent through our results in 2007.

All systems go

2007-02-20T18:26:00.001-08:00

San Francisco, CA
Friday, February 16, 2007 to Sunday, February 18, 2007

The events leading up to the start of the 2007 tour of California have left me rather weary, yet startlingly vivacious. Every second of every moment reminds me of the scale & caliber that this race is made of. Imagine contemplating a decision for weeks when you know the answer. Imagine giving careful thought over and over again, every dream of every slumber absolutely consumed by your thoughts on one very specific subject… when you know the answer… Every day leading up to this race I have asked what will happen next? And every time I’ve asked that question I’ve said that we will win. You will perform to your ability. There’s no reason to ask this question again. Yet the final notion is always you never know what will happen next, and this very idea has left me on tenterhooks up until the start of the race.
This morning (the 16th) I awoke. The night was not sufficient in providing adequate sleep. I’d arrived late after returning from Wenatchee and my stuff wasn’t packed. I finally fell asleep sometime after 12, only to awake once more at 5:15 to head for the airport. The flight was delayed an hour and a half after I arrived further aggravating the situation. On my mind at once was worry of potential illness from circumstances as such that enliven with the weary. After turning up in baggage claim an additional 45 minutes was added to my day of travel as I waited for san fran’s finest to get my bike off the plane. At long last I was initially pleased to behold the arrival of the bmw in route for my pick-up. It pulled up to the curb and I stumbled over pulling both my bike case & 49.99 pound duffle, to load the contents into the back of the car. After waiting for a minute for the trunk to pop open, I realized that something was amiss within the car. I left my bike case standing to go check ‘n see what was wrong within & found that the driver didn’t know how to unlock the doors..! Although the brief situation was petty, I found it most irritating after a day of travel gone so wrong. To top it all off my bike case fell over in a rather spectacular fashion as I quarreled with the driver.
Once I got to the hotel I was greeted with 30 minutes of interviews put off initially to change into proper team attire and cram down lunch in 5 minutes. Fortunately Jonathan rescued me midway through the second interview so that I could finally spin around on my bike and take a nap.
February 17th
Today was quite mild compared with yesterday. It was more a day of recovery and recuperation than that of a pre race opener. We went out into the San Fran hills with CSC to ride on some descent roads. It took about an hour just to get out of the city, of which the entire time we were going straight up hill. Once we got out of town the riding was on par with the best that I’ve done. I think that the area around San Francisco is envied by just about everyone who’s been to the region.
Once we got back from the ride, we went out on the time trial bikes to absolutely check everything in preparation for the prologue tomorrow. The hotel we’re at is on the coast so fortunately there’s a great little bike path along the beach that’s capable of handling the likes of us, although not quite ideal. To be sure, imagine yourself as a runner, perhaps running with your 6 year old daughter as she rides her bike beside you… and encountering a professional cyclist as he comes from behind you while testing his time trial bike at 35 mph. Certainly not a sociable experience, and certainly not one I’m proud to say I took part in… nice bike path though. Tomorrow’s the prologue, traditionally I do not excel in time trials… but only time will tell how I fair this year…

Riding on the moon

2007-02-18T17:51:00.000-08:00

Wenatchee, WA

Friday, February 16, 2007

Since returning from California I’ve spent (0) days on my bike in the rain, while riding only twice on the trainer. I will attest that indeed this is most unusual, but since everyone is following the Tour of California this year, it is perhaps convenient beyond belief and absolutely due to the state of mind present in the majority of the population…
Nevertheless, despite all concern for good weather leading up to California, on the one day that it was entirely not possible to ride on the trainer… the rain fell in a fury that’d leave even the most tropical of individuals in a state of awe. Although I long for the 5.5 hour ride in the rain, the memory of the tour of Georgia is still much too fresh, in which case otherwise absurd alternatives are abound. The training of today was set to be 5.5 hours of motor pacing. Of course motor pacing is possible on the trainer, just not effective. So, unless you have an unusual desire to do 5 hours behind a car in the rain your only other option is to set out in search of arid climates. Off hand I knew of only one close enough to make for a feasible adventure. Indeed, the decision was exactly as such; “it’s raining, let’s go across the mountains. It’s probably not raining there.”
“Good idea, how ‘bout Wenatchee?”
“Perfect.” When we got to Wenatchee we set out to find a practical road… besides the freeway. We found an ideal route in Highway 2 to Spokane. Starting with a 10 mile climb up and onto this celestial plateau where the thriving town of Waterville is situated, the perfectly smooth road meanders along rolling terrain all the way to Spokane. We made it to Wilbur, I think. Then turned around and came back… 222 kilometers. Max speed on a flat road: 93.2 kph…