illadel velo

I've Made It in Life

2012-02-26T13:23:00.003-05:00

One of the many lists in my head contains criteria for having "arrived" at some great place in life. It's full of normal desirable things, like "home ownership," "feel good about myself," "petting zoo," and other stuff, both thing- and relationship-related. Realistically, I figured the achievement of any one criterion would be good enough to count as "living the dream." And since 2012 is all about making definitive and unsupported claims, I'll just come out and say it: I've made it. I got a time trial bike.

I went to Elite yesterday to discuss the distant possibility of getting one. You know, so we could figure out the ideal dimensions, in abstract preparation for riding off into the sunset on my aero machine, next to my life partner, a ~~pink~~ magenta unicorn. So when I got to the shop, David and Max had mocked up a bike. It was sparkly. I got on it and pedaled, and they intermittently switched things out- saddles, aerobars, spacers, etc. Since the mockup had no shifters, I was at Max's mercy to put the chain into a reasonable cog...ouch! The whole time people were coming in and out of the shop...my buddy Alfonso, my dear friend Ashdizzle. Elite is like Cheers, except instead of being like, "Heyyyyy buddy," you're choking out some meager greeting as Max puts you into a harder gear or David makes you do some difficult therapeutic exercises. Anyway, I had no expectation of getting a TT bike right away, but the fit was perfect. But since 2012 is all about doing whatever I want, when I want, I'm not actually sure that the achievement of this "monumental goal" is really that important. Maybe the more remarkable part is the amazing and knowledgeable friends who helped make this happen. Or maybe it's just the sparkly paint...

Recovery Eats: Green Eggs & Yam

2012-02-15T06:49:00.008-05:00

I recently posted about an ongoing recovery crisis, and how the timing of athletic training could affect muscle repair. With more careful adherence to the "recovery clock,"...well ok, and adding a week of unplanned recovery to my schedule, things are getting better. After some improvement from these schedule tweaks, but still unprecedented soreness, yep, and the workouts I'm doing are NOT unprecedented so I still attribute this to getting old, I thought I'd take a more rigorous look at recovery nutrition:

This study showed a decrease in perceived soreness and an increase in power for athletes who took in protein and carbs directly after a workout, and 24 hours later. So it sounds like the timing of short-term recovery nutrition is similar to the timing of rest that was suggested in the last post. I also wanted to know if all proteins and carbs are created equal. And to prevent wasting your time, I'll let you know that I didn't find a definitive study on the single "best" protein and carb for recovery. So stop reading now. Anyway, now that no one is reading, note to self, here are the recipes for those yummy but oddly colored treats you recently made:

I ~~would~~ did like them
in a house with a mouse

Green Egg Tacos: 23g protein/240 calories
Mix this up and cook it like scrambled eggs:

4 egg whites (high PDCAAS )
1.5 tbsp algae powder, like spirulina or chlorella (these are also "complete proteins" and contain essential fatty acids)
2 tbsp water
Salt & pepper
Serve with 2 sprouted corn tortillas (sprouting promotes enzymatic activity, makes amino acids more available, and promotes alkalinity)
Hot sauce (delicious on food, and decent as embrocation on your legs)

Not recommended for
embrocation or topical
application in general...
unless you're John Boehner
and have run out of spray tan

Orange Yamsicle Shake: 20g protein/277 calories
Put this all in a blender:

1 scoop plain whey protein (high PDCAAS, and faster amino breakdown than casein, the other protein in milk)
1c baked yam, skin removed and saved for a salad or something (yam promotes alkalinity and contains potassium)
1/2 tsp ginger paste or 1/4 tsp dried ginger
1/4 tsp cinnamon
Some stevia (or sweetener of choice)
Some water and ice cubes

Linking to: Food Renegade Fight Back Friday

The Recovery Clock

2012-01-31T21:06:00.002-05:00

I just finished up a recovery week, and this was the first one that I actually felt like I needed. Last year, a recovery week for me was this thing I had to do because Joe Friel said so, but it mostly consisted of endorphin withdrawal and dealing with those pesky once-a-month hassles, like calling my boyfriend or washing my hair. I didn’t feel the need for a physical break, in spite of having once referred to a questionable limp after lifting…but considering I had just come from an upper body workout, that was probably just the old Post-Gym Gangster Walk.

Now things are different: I get really exhausted and sore after workouts, especially lifting. A few explanations for this come to mind: A. I let myself get too out-of-shape in my extended downtime, B. I just wasn't going hard enough last year, C. I'm getting old and frail, or D. something about my nutrition is different this year. OK, let's face the truth: It's probably everything but D. I just compared yesterday's "food diary" entry to the same date a year ago, and the only difference is a new preference for single-celled algae over last year’s multi-cellular favorites (mostly due to a coupon…ooooh…I’m really pushing the limits of risk and change here).

Whatever the reason for this soreness is, it’s probably a good time to look at the science of recovery. To determine how long this frustrating process has to take, I first looked at short-term recovery. This study looked at muscle repair after heavy resistance workouts, and it concluded that protein synthesis peaks about 24 hours after ripping one’s legs to shreds, and returns to almost normal within 36 hours. The authors recommend spacing tough workouts at least a day and a half apart to avoid messing with the rebuilding of busted-ass muscles. This obviously can’t be observed all the time, due to stage race training, or if you’re one of those triathlon folk, but I suppose it’s a good way to get the most bang for your buck in terms of muscle repair.

For the long-term recovery stuff, I looked to my favorite training guru. Friel recommends monthly recovery intervals of 5-7 days, to account for that annoying inverse relationship between fatigue and form. Annually, he recommends one or two “transition” periods lasting from a few days to a few weeks, to rejuvenate the body and mind. Hmmm…my mind apparently needed a lot of rejuvenation over the fall, so I guess I’m good on that for…um…a decade or so.

Keeping the Faith

2012-01-11T05:57:00.007-05:00

No, I'm not going to write a whole post about the most awesome De La Soul song ever. What I mean to discuss is how to stay on a training plan when things get tough (even though this blog is secretly about '90's hip hop and not really about cycling at all).

Last year I worked with a coach to improve my sprint. Once my sprint had improved, I was able to coach myself. I noticed that some people use coaches to "babysit" them and ensure they'll do their workouts. "Haha," I thought to myself, "I'll never need a babysitter like those clowns."

One year later: HELP! I NEED A BABYSITTER! I know what to do, but this year I'm not motivated enough to stick with it. A couple options came to mind to make myself accountable to other people:

1. Hire a coach. Nope, too expensive, and besides, any resources I might have had for a coach have now been diverted to a therapist. Maybe that will eventually address this motivational deficiency...
2. Make a training plan consisting of group exercise only. Hmmm...that could be awesome if your goals are to win Philly's World Championships of Vino Velo group ride or become the bendiest person in Power Yoga class.
3. Do all lifting workouts with a trainer. OK, it would obviously be helpful to have someone stand there and yell “You suck," or "You’re a f***ing god,” (depending on whether you’re motivated by self-loathing or narcissism). In the face of limited resources, I’ve found a good compromise to be a few instructional sessions with Lance, then to stay on his gym schedule once I’m doing the prescribed lifting on my own. Just the threat of being caught slacking is pretty motivating, but I guess that means I'm stalking my trainer...
3. Acknowledge a deity. Maybe the thought of some omniscient being (Spaghetti Monster, Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy) could be motivating enough to make good choices. This study found that children were 16% less likely to cheat on tests when told an invisible princess was watching. OK, this might work assuming you have at least the mental capacity and discipline of a child, and that may not be the case for me...
4. Find some like-minded friends, and be accountable to each other. OK, I can do that. Thank you, Google Calendar.

So, to keep our nutrition on track, my friend Ashley and I are sharing a food diary. And the occasional comment, like "hey man, you're definitely not getting scurvy today," is a motivating reminder that someone actually saw how many servings of grapefruit I ate that day. It's a lot harder to make bad choices when you know someone's going to make fun of you for it later, although somehow I still manage to make my share of bad choices...

Workouts are being tracked too: several of us have shared training calendars and login info so we can check up on one another. Is that slightly more work than paying for the "coach" edition and having everyone's workouts show up under one account? Sure, but it's free, and we get to stick it to the man while monitoring each other's progress.

So if you need a watchful eye to keep you on track but can't rely on a coach, group rides, or an invisible princess to make you do it, share your goals with your friends. You're a lot more likely to achieve a goal that you've shared with someone else, and who knows what might happen; His Noodly Appendage often touches those who don't seek it...

Gettin' Crazy with the Cheez Whiz

2011-12-20T12:33:00.000-05:00

Athletes must adjust their nutritional intake when the weather turns cold. Conventional changes might be to consume extra calories to account for thermal acclimation, to keep hydrating even if you don't feel thirsty, etc...but when the energy bar in your pocket is frozen solid, your sports drink has turned to slush in spite of the salt, and the Eagles are about to smash the Jets 45-19, it's time for a different source of sports nutrition: the Philly cheesesteak.

Careful, the whiz might drip on your shoe

This nutritional device has a lot to offer shivering athletes, from a high calorie content (that of 3.75 Clif Bars), lots of electrolytes (sodium equivalent of 5.5 Nuun tablets), and most importantly, textural stability at any temperature (thank you sodium alginate). So before you chip a tooth on your frozen energy bar, just pedal to 9th and Passyunk in South Philly. On Sunday Amy, Ky, and I ended an epic ride in 27-degree weather at Pat's, where our food demonstrated the thermal properties of a properly procured cheesesteak. My "whiz witout” was such a textural marvel in spite of the sub-freezing temperatures, I couldn’t help but remark at how drippy it was. I checked with Amy on her “whiz wit,” and that’s what she said too. In the end, everyone was satisfied, even Ky with her silly provolone.

So with its nutritional abundance, option to add antioxidant superfood just by saying “wit,” and weather-defying texture, it almost seems like this sandwich was developed specifically for athletes. Is it a coincidence that a cheesesteak is the same diameter as that of a bottle cage? I think not.

Disclaimer: The above statements, although true, may not be helpful for the enhancement of body composition or...um...athletic performance whatsoever. All nutritional comparisons based on information from livestrong.com, however the random sandwich in their picture is not a proper cheesesteak.

This is not a cry for help

2011-11-14T08:06:00.003-05:00

It doesn't have to be, at least, because I'm feeling somewhat better. After road season I took a break from training. It was awesome. At first I thought 2 weeks would be enough, then it became 3, then 4. It was no longer awesome; I thought I was done with bike racing, or bike racing was done with me, forever. Anyway, I finally made a feeble attempt at some cross training and assessed just how much fitness I've lost. The gym is all filled with mirrors and at one point I saw a reflection and was like, "yikes, that poor lady looks like she's never lifted a weight in her li------Oh, that's me." Strangely though, after a few days back, I felt so much better that I had to figure out what was going on:

Off-season cupcake abuse taking its toll...

This study found that people with substance abuse problems could increase serotonin not only through exercise, but through the suggestion of positive ideas. Sweet, does that mean that not only is lifting weights helpful in warding off the crazy, but my superconfident gym mixtape is somehow uplifting? Maybe so; Charlie once said I had a gangster walk after returning from the gym (and although it's just as likely that I was limping from overdoing it, I attribute that swagger to a positive self-image). Training expert Joe Friel has recently discussed the importance of confidence for athletes (if you're in a hurry just skip to his last paragraph).

But I have no idea whether a few days back into (some semblance of) training can really make a difference, so I consulted trusted spiritual guide and former spin teacher Kevin Greene. Wait, what? Oh yeah, Kevin is also a licensed psychotherapist, and he's offered some pretty crucial life advice over the past couple years, like, "hey you, get a bike."

KW: Do you recommend exercise to your clients who are dealing with negative feelings?

KG: For 26 years I have advocated exercise for clients. This includes my early days working in an inpatient substance abuse clinic when I would recommend exercise and be looked at (by staff and colleagues) like I had 3 heads. (Please note that in 2011 every substance abuse clinic of note has a physical exercise component.) Self-image and self-esteem are in some respects misnomers because so much of what we believe about ourselves is formed by others...(for a woman I suspect this is doubly the case). In exercise we finally are able to turn the corner on that problem, by creating a platform of control. In addition to this the joining with others (always a component to a healthy self) can be enhanced by group exercise.

KW: So I’ve been lazy lately, as my off-season cross training plans for running and weight lifting were compromised by injury. And instead of finding a different cross-training method, I just sat on my ass for a month. Is there some psychological value to this downtime, even though in the end it made me feel like crap (please say yes)?

KG: As Aristotle said, the struggle for the "golden mean" or golden middle is essential. Excercise like fire can be wonderful and warming but out of its proper enclosure can be devastating. Not pushing to excess is vital in the pursuit of changing exercise into "lifesport." I have seen many come and go in our sport, and most that go are not forced out by injury but leave because their lives have become unbalanced. That which does not please will not be done long, and if done with no pleasure, what's the point? So there is a huge advantage to time off..and a huge advantage to time on- especially if that "time on" is self-affirming.

Sports Nutrtition Hacked: Recipes

2011-10-25T22:07:00.028-04:00

Mackerel Tacos with pickled bitter melon salsa, coconut foam, and roasted

squash with goji berry sauce...and bitter melon martinis.

This week I scoured Philly's Chinatown to find inexpensive alternatives to popular athletic supplements. My finds, along with a cost and nutritional comparison, are on GamJams today. To make these things more edible, my friend Jerry and I attempted to cook with them. Here are some recipes we came up with:

Mackerel Tacos:

As discussed on GamJams, the canned mackerel that I bought in Chinatown is high in omega 3 fatty acids, but unlike gelcap supplements, provides a source of protein, is delicious (well, maybe just OK) in fish tacos, and also makes a decent holiday ornament. This stuff, with bones and all, was pretty gross directly out of the can. Combined with bitter melon salsa, coconut foam, and goji berry sauce, it was definitely healthy, and well, edible I suppose.

1 can mackerel or other oily nasty fish that is otherwise inedible
4 corn tortillas
some shredded cabbage
1 blob of greek yogurt
cumin powder
minced garlic
sriracha or other hot sauce
lemon juice
salt

Cook the tortillas in a skillet with some canola oil until they're somewhat crispy. Take them out and put the fish in the skillet. The fish is already cooked, so just heat it up til it's less nasty. Mix the cabbage with the greek yogurt and all the other stuff. Put it in the tortillas with some of the fish. Serve with bitter melon salsa and coconut foam.

Bitter Melon Salsa:

1 bitter melon, pithy stuff scraped out and cut into really thin half circles.
1 cup apple cider vinegar
1 cup water
1/4 cup honey
1/2 tsp salt
1 peach or apple, chopped
1 tomato, chopped
white onion, chopped
cilantro, chopped
some lime juice

Shake up the vinegar, honey, water, and salt in jar, add the melon slices, and pickle them in the fridge for at least a day (yeah, I know that's a long time; maybe you should have read the recipe before starting). When the pickles are ready, put all the other ingredients in a bowl, chop the pickles and add as much of it as you can stand to the salsa.

Coconut Foam:

OK, the texture on this stuff didn't work out as planned; I got more of a runny coconut spooge. I wouldn't recommend attempting this recipe, but here it is anyway:

1c coconut water
1/2 tsp xanthan gum
1 tbsp sugar

Mix on high speed in a mixer or blender til it's sticky and gross.

Roasted Squash with Goji Berry Sauce:

This was the most non-nasty creation of the evening. Pretty good in fact.

1 squash (I used acorn)
1/2 c dried goji berries
1c water
3tbsp honey
1/4c apple cider vinegar
sriracha
cumin
cinnamon

Poke the squash with a knife a few times and roast it at 350f until it's kinda squishy (45ish minutes). Boil the berries with the water and honey til the water is reduced by half. Add the vinegar and everything else, and puree in the blender. Cut up the squash and serve it with the sauce.

Bitter Melon Martinis:

Made with Bluecoat gin, these martinis were, well, just OK. But I don't blame Philly's local gin...maybe the bitter melon is an acquired taste...

1 shot gin, preferably Bluecoat, but you can use Hendricks and you won't be any less of a person
1/2 shot dry vermouth
1 tsp bitter melon pickle juice
1 slice pickled bitter melon

Combine everything with some ice cubes, strain, and garnish with the pickled bitter melon. If you can finish this drink (or really any of these recipes), you can suffer like a world-class athlete. Cheers.

PS If you're wondering what goji berries, bitter melon, and all these crazy ingredients have to do with sports nutrition, check out my rationale here.

Safety vs. Specificity

2011-10-16T23:18:00.045-04:00

Ok, moving on past the post-race season "Cyclists Gone Wild" phase, Ky came to visit and we ushered in the more subdued "loafer-wearing, cupcake-baking, and quietly studying" phase of the fall. With all-night partying being sooo last week, the ample daylight allowed for some serious mileage, and our renewed nerdiness brought on this safety inquiry:

The thing that bugs me most about group rides is the way people call out obstacles. Not that it's the most pressing safety issue in the world; maybe it's just funny, but the specificity with which some people point things out is absurd. Beyond the usual "Car Up," "Hole," and "Slowing," today I also heard stuff like, "Car back...no wait...it's a truck...OMG YOU GUYS! TRUCK BACK!!" What exactly were we supposed to do with the additional information? Do they think we're all like, "Oh, a truck? The chassis is higher than that of the aforementioned car and could run me over rather than throw me over the hood, hmmm...I think I'll move to the side of the"...errrr...splat. I've also heard people correct each other, like "walker up," then, "no dude, that's a jogger!" It'll probably produce the same crappy result if you hit a walker going 4mph or a runner going 8.

So next time, maybe we should just stick with a few basic alerts. If there's no easy description, then the universal, "Gahhh!!" would probably incite an appropriate level of caution.

Ky and I made fortune cupcakes with overly specific alerts...

I laughed, I cried, I almost hurled

2011-10-10T09:33:00.000-04:00

If you just finished up road season and don't have any 'cross on your agenda, you're probably going through that weird yet exciting post-racing-bender-phase. Since this is only my second off-season, I don't have a good grasp of what to expect for this phase, how long it should last, or how much discipline to use. Luckily there's advice from fitness experts to help, but more on that in a sec.

Last year after road season I felt strangely angry. Every morning I'd go to grab my bike for a ride, look at it for a second and think, "I'll show them!" and then put on my running shoes instead. And I'm no runner, so really I just threw on some random sneakers, but more importantly, whom was I showing, and what? I ran a lot of angry miles last fall, finally ending up with an achilles injury (according to the doctor it was due to the aforementioned sneakers), and unable to run or even ride for a few weeks.

This year I prepared to be that angry runner again, scheduling a running shoe fitting and even planning to temporarily cut myself off from friends if I became an intolerable jerk. Surprisingly, I'm not angry, just bummed from finally acknowledging the numerous personal crises that I managed to ignore during road season. But mostly I'm fed up with the self-discipline of training, so I came up with a list of "undisciplined" things to do:

Stay up late (done)
Eat a hamburger (not yet)
Watch the Phillies' post-season (unfortunately, that was done all too quickly)
Have a dinner party (done x2)
Cook something elaborate (done, see above)
Go for long rides without worrying about a training agenda (done)
Go to a show at Johnny Brenda's (done)
All-night party (saturday night was really close...still feeling ill)
Go running (nope- kinda banged up my ribs in Boston; still hurts to run)
Quit the leg press and squats for a while, do arms instead just for funsies (OK, I did only the quitting part; upper body still hurts see above)

The Besnard Lakes at Johnny Brendas

So that sums up the first two weeks of the off-season. Not a bad time, but it looks like according to the experts, I might be a little too far off the training wagon. For this 1- to 6-week "Transition Period" as Joe Friel calls it, Friel suggests that athletes stay active with unstructured training in non-cycling sports, and he also warns to not be a "couch potato." Oh. Speaking of potatoes, Racing Weight author Matt Fitzgerald suggests that athletes gain no

Bread pudding recipe from Philly restaurant Standard Tap

more than 8% of their race weight in the off-season. No comment. So I guess it's time to add a little structure to the "unstructured" training plan, lest this off-season become more tragic than the Phillies post-season.

Hillbilly Hustle Observed

2011-10-03T13:21:00.001-04:00

“I wish real sports were this fun,” said a rather tipsy Charlie Z. as he handed hot dog feeds to oncoming racers. The Hillbilly Hustle ‘cross race was fun indeed, the most fun I’ve ever had at a race (possibly because I was working the food tent rather than racing). As for whether cyclocross is a sport, I disagree with my wiener-wielding friend. "Sport" is one of those terms that people can't agree on, like “beauty,” “art,” and “undertraining.” Most dictionaries associate sport with athleticism, skill, or jest though, and I observed all three at the Hustle.

Athleticism: The women’s and men’s A races were both won by going fast. Really fast. Kristin Gavin had a commanding solo finish, while the men provided an epic display of athleticism too. The top three finishers worked together for most of the race, with Cameron Dodge edging out Cole Oberman and John Minturn for the win.

Leaders of the men's A race

Skill: A roadie like me can’t even comprehend the handling skills required for dismounts and awkward situations like clawing your way up “Mt. Doom” with 90 dudes breathing down your neck. Some people had no problem clearing the barriers and hopping right back on the bike. This guy took a different approach, bunny hopping the barriers without dismounting. It didn’t help him get ahead, but it did bring him popularity with the crowd, even as his competitors passed him.

Jest: Anyone who’s willing to get this messy probably has a sense of humor. Here’s David Lowe of Human Zoom, being quite the good "sport" after crashing on his face. And this lady is just plain disgusting. Sarah Iepson, winner of the women’s B race, had an interesting take on the sounds emanating from her muddy brakes.

So if those are the criteria defining "sport," I'd venture to say that 'cross might be even more of a sport than road racing is. As for me and Charlie, we'd better get some 'cross bikes right away. We've definitely got the jest part down, (ok absolutely no skills), and maybe some lingering athleticism from road season. It won't last much longer if we keep watching cross races from the food tent though...

All my Hillbilly Hustle photos are here.

TD Bank Mayor's Cup: And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a...

2011-09-26T09:27:00.007-04:00

...downed rider. And with the free lap rule having expired, that's how road season 2011 ended. Five minutes earlier than expected, in a pileup.

And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? Several events, both strange and awesome, led to the pileup. Starting with the awesome, I got to race Mayor's Cup with a really fast Canadian team, P-K Express/HNZstrategic.com. The team arrived in Boston the night before the race, and director Chris gave me some pointers on how to overcome my pack-shyness for the race.

The next day, the 60-minute crit started at a fast pace, and I held the pack positioning we had discussed. A few laps into the race though, the pace slowed and the pack would string out and then bunch up. I knew where to be and had the fitness to get there, but I didn't have the confidence or pack skills to stay put. I kept moving up to the front when things would get fast, then when we slowed and bunched up, I'd give my spot up too easily. Sue was at the front in good position. With three to go, the pace picked back up. Finally comfortable in the pack, I charged to the front. Coming around to the start with two to go, a rider hit something in the pavement (I think?) and went down. Others in front of me piled on, and my life flashed before my eyes. Luckily part of that life included the team CAWES crashing drills, so I did a well-rehearsed tuck and roll, landing unscathed in a pile with the likes of Kacey M, Lindsay B, and several other amazing riders. And although crashing sucks, I was proud to be even a measly schmear of mayo in that talent sandwich. Luckily everyone was able to walk away, but I ceremonially stopped my timer, pronouncing Road Season 2011 officially dead. Meanwhile, with no teammates left, Sue single-handedly took an amazing 9th place, outsprinting last year's race winner.

So, with much of 2011 lost due to illness, unconsciousness, flooding, and other mishaps, it seems fitting to have lost those last five minutes of Mayor's Cup. Same as it ever was.

Packing up for the race. Jade was already warmed up for the children's race.

Green Mountain Stage Race

2011-09-07T15:33:00.008-04:00

OK, you might ask what's so horrible about a podium ending. There were some scary things, like destructive flooding and a field sprint crash, but in this case I'm referring to my horrific screams while racing. I first attributed this to lost fitness after an injury, but the screaming persists.

Stage 1/ITT: The Jamie Lee Curtis Sob
The time trial was a 5.7-mile course with a few miles of climbing, then a descent, then a steep little rise at the end. I set my goal at a sub-16-minute effort. I went really hard at the beginning, constantly passing my 30-second woman, only to be re-passed by her. I let out a few whimpers as it began to hurt. I'm pretty sure my 30-second woman heard it, and maybe it was the awkward moaning that convinced her to let me get away, but I was on my own by the time the course started to descend. By the time I hit the final dip, I sounded like I was crying, like Jamie Lee Curtis being chased up the stairs in Halloween. The sobbing paid off; I beat my time goal and took 3rd place in the stage.

Stage 2/Circuit Race: The Psycho Shower Scream

The circuit race was horrific indeed, with a screaming descent down the flood-damaged pavement of Route 17, and a very squirrely field sprint. There was a lot of deliberate elbowing as we jockeyed for the false flat finish. At one point I took a pretty aggressive elbow to the butt and lost balance. Certain that I would crash and die, I let out a blood-curdling scream. Somehow I remained upright with everyone else, and I settled in for the sprint. A few minutes later, there was another noise, and several riders went down. At this point I was terrified and didn't have the wherewithal to sprint, let alone avoid danger, so I found a more trustworthy wheel than my own and followed suit. Lindsay took a really aggressive line through the mess, securing an awesome 2nd place. Grateful to be alive, I salvaged 10th and kept my GC standing.

Stage 3/App Gap: The Hyperventilating Zombie Chase
Stage 3 was rerouted due to flooding, exchanging last year's climb of Middlebury Gap for Duxbury Hill. The field stayed together until the final climb, with the exception of Anna's badass solo break, which stuck from beginning to end. Without much at stake in the GC, the pack stayed together til the base of App Gap. 1st and 2nd place tore up the climb, and I stayed on their wheels until the others were out of sight. After yesterday's sprint debacle, I didn't have enough lead on 4th and 5th to risk ascending in the pack. With about 6 switchbacks to go, I lost the wheel of 2nd place and continued to hyperventilate up the mountain alone. Looking behind me, some others came into sight, including 4th place. We were all moving so slowly, it was like one of those cheesy zombie movies when everyone is huffing and puffing, and it makes no sense that they can't outrun the frustratingly slow zombies. I looked down at my speed: 4.8mph. I coughed and wheezed my way to finish line safety, securing 4th in the stage and adding to the GC cushion.

Stage 4/Crit: Canceled Race and Lunch Assassination
As soon as we arrived in Burlington, the skies opened up and the streets began to flood. With the race now canceled, the only horror victim of the day would be our lunch as we inhaled it. (Thanks to Jon's friend Kianna for taking in some hungry and soaked racers!) In spite of the cancellation, I finished with 3rd place in the GC, and enough frustration to go really hard in next year's crit.

The Jock Doctrine

2011-08-14T20:21:00.002-04:00

Dow Jones Industrial Average, past month, from cnn.com


My TSB (yellow line), past month, from trainingpeaks.com

Coincidence or conspiracy? My training stress balance looks suspiciously like the Dow, after I returned to a training plan from two consecutive injuries.

The Dow part is way over my head, but I can explain the training part: an injured athlete's acute training load (my July ATL consisted of working, napping, and baking delicious pastries) is going to be much lower than their chronic load. The athlete will start to gain "freshness" and eventually lose fitness. I managed to do some of each, judging by my initial personal-record-setting short-term power, but my eventual huffing and puffing like Darth Vader after riding an epic...um..ten feet or so. Joe Friel's Training Bible says that two or more weeks off the bike would require a return to Base period. High-volume, low-intensity endurance work? That's where I'm a viking, but a return to Base in August would allow for a peak in 'cross season, or maybe next year...so I guess it's time to cram the volume and intensity into a couple weeks before recovering and racing. Hello pain cave. It's been a while.

Here's hoping for some creative destruction in the next few weeks of training, or I'm screwed...but more importantly, let's hope the Dow and my TSB stop looking alike, or we're all screwed.

*Disclaimer: I have a belief that every time someone talks publicly about their power data, a kitten is killed somewhere. My apologies for the kitten casualty associated with this post.

The Risk/Reward Ratio of Racing

2011-07-31T22:24:00.000-04:00

(The pack closing in at Liberty Crit)

"Risk = Reward" is one of several assumptions this racing season has called into question. My fixation on risk-taking started from the admiration of my teammates' abilities bury themselves in a race, often achieving the team's goal in the process, and even in cases of failure, making the race exciting and getting a great workout. Our friend Jess describes this as "going until you can't breathe anymore." It was time for me to stop sitting in the pack and learn how to take a risk.

1. Risk = Reward. The first attempt was Tour de Toona Stage 2. By the time we finished the mountain climb, I had finally gone to the "can't breathe" place. The result was a great stage finish and GC standing.

2. Risk = Loss, Pain, And Your Mom Having To See You Unconscious. Here's the result of deciding to finish Toona Stage 3 in spite of a suspicious tire:

3. Risk = Booze? After my recovery, CAWES raced Liberty Crit, and I buried myself off the front for 5 laps before being caught. The goal was to wear the pack out for our sprinter, or to stay away til the finish. I obviously failed on the latter, and I don't think anyone was worn out except me. Becky and the team had a great sprint anyway, and I got nine zillionth place and a zinfandel prime.

(Sarah, Ky, & Becky executing the perfect leadout train at Liberty)

(We consumed the booze prime later at Rob's pool)

4. Risk = More Time Off The Bike. Finally cleared to ride again, I went out for a morning workout and was hit by a car (thanks to Lance for stopping and helping!). Another helmet broken and another bonk to the gourd, but I did earn the nickname "Dome Destroyer" or "Double D" from the team. Alarmingly, that puts me just one D short of being this guy.

So, if cycling is a risk, the only wisdom I can glean from this racing season is Risk = ~~Reward~~ Risk. And in terms of injury recovery, When one door closes, another one ~~opens~~ closes too. Some friends from QCW Cycling have also been hit at Memorial Hall recently, and it sounds like it might not be a safe place to ride in the mornings. You know what they say: Early to bed, early to rise, makes a ~~man~~ woman ~~healthy~~ injured, ~~wealthy~~ lacking a helmet, and ~~wise~~ concussed. Translated into jive: See a broad who get all booty-eyed, lay'em down and smack'em yack'em. Well, I'm looking forward to the team laying the smack down in some late-season races. Hopefully my booty will be better by then.

Wimbledon...I mean Lost River Classic

2011-07-24T22:07:00.004-04:00

Oops, wrong sport. What I meant was, this race actually elicited tennis player noises from me in the final sprint. And although I brought my best Monica Seles (second best actually, but more on that later), I would never confuse the Classy with the Classic. Let's look at the differences:

Wimbledon vs. Lost River Classic

Ground Surface: Flat manicured grass vs.Chewed up asphalt+roadkill+hills
Customary Eats: Strawberries and cream vs. Clif Bars and VitaCoco given as podium prizes
Women's Attire: Mandatory all white + skirts vs. Choose your own spandex, provided it can get sweaty and dirty
Payout: 7-figure sum in British pounds vs. 3 digits worth of American bucks + aforementioned yummies (but hey, it's not the race promoter's fault that the dollar sucks, unless the race promoter is Alan Greenspan, but I digress)

Anyway, since I prefer the latter of most of those categories, I entered the Lost River Women's 123. After winning the cat 3 race last year, I had high hopes for a result. This was my first race since recovering from the 'Toona injuries though, so I tried to keep the expectations loose. We took off, and Laurel immediately drilled it at the front of the pack. I followed her cue and attacked on the long shallow uphill. We quickly established a 4-woman break that lasted until the end.

I remembered the finish from last year being steep enough to be non-sprinterly, so I didn't give much thought to tactics. As we approached the final 200m though, Mary took off like a rocket. Crap. I reacted slowly, finally whittling the gap down to a frustrating half bike length at the line, meanwhile uttering an awkward "Uhhhh!" as we sprinted to the line. I've occasionally made such tennis noises in sprint workouts, usually on the best effort of the day. In fact, the sprint+scream is so much faster than the sprint alone, that once I tried to improve my training by deliberately making the noise. Turns out, however, that such things can't be faked, and the result was a meager sprint with an awkward little squeak. So a spontaneous tennis noise in a race is an exciting achievement. Another 2nd place finish though...well, I guess it could be an indication that the injuries are back to normal...

Tour de 'Toona: Frustratingly Awesome

2011-07-09T21:33:00.016-04:00

The Wasabi Warriors set out for the lunar landscape known earlier this year as PomWonderful, accompanied by 2 guest riders, 3 feed zone helpers, 3 groupies, and 1 awkward loiterer. Stage 1 was a sub-3 mile time trial, with a couple of small climbs and 18 corners. I set my goal at 6 minutes or less and hoped the technical course would not put me at a disadvantage for riding Merckx-style. The stage went by quickly, and I felt like I had energy leftover. I was pleased with my 6:03 time and 25th place, but I wished I had gone harder. The TT was a great stage for the team, with all of our riders doing well. Our friend Charlie of Breakawaybikes.com/iFractal overcooked the S-turn on 12th Avenue, ending up in the ER, but thankfully avoided any head injuries. The Pistachio Princesses send their regards to Chaz's broken pelvis.

Stage 2 was a 74-mile road race from Richland to Blue Knob, with a mountaintop finish. Early in the race, a small group went off the front. Two sprints and a QOM later, we approached the final climb with the break reeled in. It was a 20-minute effort, the kind of suffering that requires serious motivation to keep going. I asked myself that burning question that every aspiring cyclist ponders now and again: WWLVGD? Word had it that Laura Van Gilder was using a 12-25 cassette that day, so my guess was that she'd shift into a big gear and make that mountain her bitch the old-fashioned way. Inspired by this confidence, I clicked up a few times on my 11-28 and stomped it out for 13th place, moving up to 15th in the GC. Woohoo!

(CAWES guest rider Jessica Chong making the most of the rest day)

Stage 3 began after a rest day of watching the Tour de France and recovery spinning on our trainers. The 91-mile stage involved 3 climbs and a flat finish. I was psyched. The first 40 miles were mainly flat, and a group got away. The race leaders weren't in the break so we assumed it was an effort to wear the pack out, and we didn't chase. My rear tire skidded a few times, and I thought I might have too much pressure. It became so bad that I considered dropping out of the stage, but I decided to proceed with extra caution. The next thing I remember, I was being revived in the same ER that I had just visited Charlie in. I later learned that I had skidded out when there was sudden braking on a descent. Thankfully, no one else was hurt, not even my bike The Green Weenie. The x-rays and CT scan came back ok, and the doctors were impressed enough with the articulateness of my refusal of a tetanus shot and staple in my head that they deemed my head injury to be non-serious (little did they know that my fear of needles could provide a moment of clarity in any situation involving sharp objects). Disappointed but grateful, I was discharged and returned to the course in time to see the stage finish. Colavita and Now & Novartis had the first riders in, with the other race leaders, including yellow, trickling in as groups of 2 and 3. Larger groups sprinted in, and team CAWES finished strong.

I'm disappointed that such a great race ended with an injury, but I enjoyed the first 2 (and a half) stages, and I'm looking forward to next year. Let's hope Tour de Toona continues to happen in 2012!

South Jersey & Rodale Crits

2011-07-09T17:32:00.008-04:00

After the weekend's sprinterly races, I think it's safe to declare myself in need of A) the balls to take a risk in a race, and B) an 11-cog on my cassette. Since the weekend I've acquired one of those items. As for the other, I should probably mind my previous post and stop associating brave behavior with a specific gender.

Anyway, the weekend started out with stage 1 of the South Jersey Omnium, a 6-corner crit around Seneca High School. Teams CAWES, Kenda, and Sturdy Girls had the most representation in the pack. Stacey Jensen of Kenda worked hard to keep the pack on the rivet and string things out. The Wasabi Warriors' own Sarah Iepson drilled it on the last lap, keeping things fast and preventing any funny business from happening in the field sprint. I took 3rd and Becky 5th, while Kenda's amazing sprint power secured 1 & 2. I was impressed with the teamwork of both teams in green, and excited to keep working on my sprint. Sarah, Becky, and I took our winnings to a south jersey farmer's market and bought all sorts of plants and veggies.

(Our South Jersey spoils shared the back seat with the Green Weenie)

On Sunday, Arley and I rolled up for the Rodale Fitness Park crit in Trexlertown. The smooth, banked up loop had a gentle roller and no legitimate corners. Team Type 1 launched some strong attacks at the front. I tried to work in a break, but it didn't get away and/or my usual timid attacks weren't enough to get away. This was going to come down to a field sprint, with a lot of powerful sprinters.

Ironically, the corner-free course seemed to lead to a sketchy pack, because there weren't any technical elements to slow down the non-technically skillful riders. As the final jockeying began, the pack swerved from side to side, and I launched off of Arley's wheel, then off of a zillion others who were shuffling around in the sketchiness, finally coming in behind Christine Fennessey for 2nd place. The smooth course had me wishing for a bigger gear as I spun out in my 53/12. I guess there's a first time for everything...

Q: Are We Not Women? A: We Are Wasabi Warriors

2011-07-01T13:09:00.022-04:00

In light of the upcoming Tour de ‘Toona’s gender-equitable policies, and recent allegations of sexism in local training races, it seems like a good time to examine the status of gender in cycling. The sport certainly has trended towards equality since the days of women's top tubes being sloped for their skirts, and Quaker City Wheelmen being just men, but lingering issues of inequality lead me to believe that women’s cycling is stuck in a state of what I’ll call “Bachelorettedom.” There are a lot of similarities between women’s cycling and the cheesy reality TV show that separates the sexes from each other and forces them to compete amongst themselves, all the while perpetuating gender stereotypes. Let’s look at some similarities:

1. Wussy suffix:

Well, in cycling’s case, a prefix. The original dating show about a man, The Bachelor, came first of course. The 'ette came along later. In cycling, race promoters still often list the men’s races as just the “races,” while specifically distinguishing the women’s fields, sometimes with a “W” prefix. Check out this current registration page, where women, kids, and handicapped riders are distinguished, while the men’s fields are just assumed to be such.

2. More is expected of men than of women:

Both The Bachelorette and cycling require men to be courteous and brave. The current Bachelorette recently asked one of her suitors to “be a man” and break up with her. On the cycling side of things, I'm definitely part of the problem. I've recently tried to relieve my own "wussiness" by entering men's races. A more controversial example is the infamous -woman elbowing a man- incident at a recent training crit near Philly. Check out the comments, where the alleged elbower suggests that the elbowee be a “real man” and let a woman go first. If a “real man” is a brave or courteous person, then I think the popular excuse of “it’s just bike racing,” precludes all of us cyclists, male and female, from being real men.

Besides being courteous, men are expected to do more work. The Bachelorette's suitors have been tested with competitions in boxing, dragon boat racing, and performing manual labor for charity. When the current bachelorette was competing as a "suitor," the hardest work she had to do was look better than her competitors in a swimsuit.

Look familiar? Liz Hatch, anyone?

Cycling also requires men to work harder. At Fitchburg last year, the women's amateur field competed in half as many stages as the men's amateur fields, and the women's pro field had only a fraction of the distance and payouts of the men.

3. The women get serious sooner:

Women on dating shows are constantly "falling for someone," finding a "connection," and even saying the L-word before their male counterparts, and women cyclists seem to get the racing bug with the same kind of urgency. I suspect this has to do with field size. Someone might enter several Women's Cat 4 races, all with fields half the size of their Cat 4 counterparts, and easily dominate all of her races. She'll quickly ascend the ranks to cat 3, maybe cat 2, and suddenly be racing with pros. At The Tour of Somerville, for example, a cat 3 woman had a single choice, which was to enter the women's combined 123 field and race against the likes of Laura Van Gilder and world champion Giorgia Bronzini. There wasn't a sign-up sheet for cat 3 men to race with Thor Hushovd. The difference in field sizes presents awesome opportunities for women to win small races, and rub (or throw?) elbows with the pros in others. Consequently though, it tests women's L-word for racing by forcing them to be competitive with elite and pro riders, even as amateurs.

What can we do to save cycling from plummeting further into Bachelorettedom?

We could start by revising our naming conventions. Let's start listing men's races specifically, and while we're at it, how about this: Instead of printing separate KOM and QOM jerseys, why not use the gender-neutral “Monarch of the Mountain?” Who wouldn’t be proud to earn the title of MOM after laboring intensely up a hill? Having equal payouts and distance will be tough until women's racing becomes more popular, but the Tour de 'Toona has the right idea. The only stage race in the country that has equal payouts and distance for the pro men's and women's fields, this race is sure to be a really challenging (and hopefully fun) event for CAWES. Stay tuned next week to hear how it goes.

Air Force Cycling Classic/Crystal Cup

2011-06-26T21:59:00.011-04:00

(Coming into turn 1)

Way up my ass somewhere is my head. The Internet says it's about 8.3 inches in diameter and controls my behavior, but no one has seen it for weeks. I came into Crystal Cup letting recent crises get the best of me, but the excitement of NRC racing made me want to get my act together. Before the race, my legs could barely feel the previous day's 70-mile/6000 ft climbing extravaganza, but my mind was mired in stress. The kind of stress that makes you want to drown yourself in lame behavior, like eating soup in a bread bowl, skipping your planned training ride in favor of a zillion junk miles, and listening to The The's entire Soul Mining album alone...in the dark...with a cat. Ok, I've only done 2 out of 3 of those things, and for the record, I don't have a cat.

Anyway, our director Mike eeked a warmup out of unwilling me, and Sarah provided a pep talk as we previewed the course. It was a 2-mile barbell shape with a square on one end and a hairpin turn at the other. The race was fast. I even enjoyed it a little, but potholes, cornering, and an aggressive pack kept my brain on the rivet and led to some bad choices. Always getting nervous at the first corner, I'd give up 10 or so wheels on every lap, then make up for it on the little kicker hill around the corner. I found a wonky but comfortable line to take through the hairpin turn, but I was constantly in the wind on the straightaway. Since this part led into the finish, I knew I would blow myself up. I found Jocelyn and tried to put my inevitable destruction to good use. She got on my wheel, but I think my line through the hairpin disrupted our xi. We came in on opposite sides of the pack, taking 14th and 15th in the field sprint. I feel like there's hope for me to do better in these NRC races. The speed is fun, unlike anything I'm used to. I left this race wanting to try harder, and it's been a while since I've felt that way. I know I have the strength it takes, maybe a little bit of the quickness, and for the first time in a while, the desire to try.

Conservatism + (Lack of) Ethics = A Wussy Win

2011-06-23T13:35:00.012-04:00

Tour of Mt. Nebo, climbing to the start/finish

I’m the most conservative rider I know. This is kinda weird for several reasons: sprinting is not my strength, so there’s not much incentive for me to hold back until the finish, I ride for a team that often works hard in races and sees the risks pay off, and I know from training that it’s not until I’ve buried myself in pain that I can become “comfortably numb” and really do my best. I don’t know what keeps me from racing more aggressively, but Tour of Mt. Nebo was no exception.

The 123 field had 3 laps of a short but hilly course (the Garmin said 850 feet per 9-mile lap), and on the first lap a young rider tried to get away. I thought it was too risky to break away, but I didn’t want to let her get away either, so I kept bridging the group back up. The rider got frustrated and turned to me and said, “you call yourself a bike racer?” I figured that pretending to not speak English would be pretty transparent in the middle of shoo-fly pie country, plus I think I had just talked to her in line for the portapottie. I grinned like an idiot and continued to suck wheel until the hills whittled the small field down to just the two of us. With half a lap to go, I took off for the win. Was it ethical of me to ride so conservatively and let another rider destroy herself? I generally don’t use the terms “conservative” and “ethical” in the same sentence, but I think I demonstrated about as much concern for others as the dude at the gym this morning who left 200lbs on the Smith machine in 5lb increments. I admire the young rider's aggression, and I think that willingness to work could do me some good.

Anyway, after that first race, I was feeling pretty guilty and wussy. A hairshirt under my skinsuit might have addressed the former, but I thought hanging in a men’s race might assuage my guilt, make me less of a wuss, and address the training volume predicament posed by the short race. Hanging indeed. I was dropped on the first lap and took 37^th place. Still feel guilty and wussy, but got some training volume (albeit at a self-determined intensity once I was dropped and riding with a couple fellow stragglers). Ho hum.

TD Bank Liberty Classic: Kacy takes her first bottle feed

2011-06-19T23:26:00.008-04:00

My home field "advantage" for Liberty Classic probably led to more misspent energy than advantages. Three years of being a spectator built the race up as something untouchable, and the thought of actually being in it evoked that pants-peeingly scary feeling that I get before big events. Although my pre-race fears are rarely specific (the thought of giant green monsters on the course seems just as legitimate as crashing or failing to get a good result), I tried to figure out what potential outcomes freaked me out the most: 1. suffering at my lactate threshold for two and a half hours, 2. starving/dehydrating to death after missing my first attempt at taking a feed, and 3. becoming completely paralyzed in the biggest field I’d ever seen. The best preparations seemed to be Manayunk Wall repeats, a bottle-grabbing session with the Gursk, and local practice crits.

On the first lap I moved up to the front comfortably and stayed there until Main Street. The swarm came around as riders jockeyed for the Wall, and fear #3 came true quickly. I was overwhelmed and lacking the skills to get myself back into position. By the start of the climb I had slipped to the back. I passed most of the pack on the Wall and made it to the QOM line maybe 10^th wheel. My ride data showed that it was my fastest effort ever, but because I started at the back and finished not quite at the front, it was worth nothing. Lex Albrecht soloed off the front for several laps, handily taking the QOM before being reeled back in.

Having given up on any result-related goals, I shifted into survival mode and prepared to attempt my first bottle feed. Maybe I got cocky from my 100% success rate!! in the previous day’s bottle-grabbing practice, or because our buddy Justin was by far the tallest man to ever work a feed zone, but I thought this would be an easy target. I batted at the bottle, swerved, and ended up giving Justin an awkward high five. Oops. Our other feeder, Coyle, was further down the line. As fears of dehydration and starvation swept over me, I successfully grabbed the bottle. Wait a sec, the sweet taste of *not going to die* wasn’t my familiar fruit punch sports drink. I had stolen my teammate Jocelyn’s bottle! I tried to justify the theft by knowing that if I were to crash and die, she could pry the remaining energy gels off of my lifeless body and finish the race. What? No seriously, my brain was totally gone at that point.

We approached the finish, and I saw that the pack was still disappointingly large. A race that finished with a group of 18 last year would come down to a 60-woman field sprint in my first Liberty Classic. I started near the front, heard the familiar swarm behind me, and salvaged 32^nd place (going up the the side of the pack as usual). World champion Giorgia Bronzini blasted across the line, just yards ahead of the rest of us.

If I could go back and trade my many Wall repeats for weaving through a field of angry monkeys, I would. I wish I could've done better in the sprint, but I’m relieved to have survived this intimidating race without starving, major physical suffering, or being attacked by green monsters. Jocelyn didn’t die either, BTW, but finished strong in a great race for the Wasabi Warriors.

Tour of Somerville: Racing at 90% errr...9% is ok

2011-06-17T14:33:00.007-04:00

I have a friend who always says he wants to race, but that he’s not feeling 100% at the moment. He hasn’t raced in 3 years. For me, racing can only be at maximum form a few times a season, and the rest of the time I’m building up to or winding down from a planned peak. And even the planned peaks can only reach the ultimate zenith of maximum peaktastic real ultimate power if non-training things are going smoothly too: work, health, finances, personal life, etc. So when I was up to my ears in crises, both real and perceived, I couldn’t be a hypocrite and skip Somerville, right? Errr…right? No seriously, I’m really not sure it was a good idea, but whatever, I schlepped by phlegmmy self over to Sarah’s, and Sarah patiently listened while I whined about personal problems all the way to the race.

We got there and I remembered that everyone races with issues; half the field was bandaged up from crash at Kelly Cup, and our teammate Arley Kemmerer was on a neutral bike due to bottom bracket woes. I forced myself to the start line and tried to keep it together.

(Kelly Cup crash)

Result: Meh. My first NRC-esque (Somerville lost NRC status this year) race was not nearly as fast as I had hoped. Team Colavita’s teamwork controlled the pace, presumably saving their team’s amazing sprint power for the finish. Meanwhile, the pack kept stringing out and then bunching up, causing weenies like myself to take the windy route up the side, then get immediately spit out the back. It’s a repeating cycle, but I didn’t have the mental wherewithal to challenge myself to stay in the middle. As the pack jockeyed for the final sprint, I took my usual wussy path along the outside, burning precious matches and taking 13^th place, far behind Theresa Cliff-Ryan's fantastic sprint for the win. I’m frustrated that I couldn’t push myself more, mentally or physically, but I finished in the money and got 2 important reminders:

1. 1. 1. Everyone races while compromised.

2. 2. 2. Pack handling can be a bigger limiter than fitness

So to conclude, I think I need to get my head out of my ass and remember that I don't have to be at my absolute best to race. Next time I should just listen to this important advice about getting pumped.

CAT Scan Reveals Dog

2011-06-14T13:47:00.004-04:00

(Chooch's real name turned out to be Baby)

My race reports are almost caught up since I only did 1 race in the month of May (more on that below), but today’s post is a brief divergence from race reporting. After Bennington Race Weekend’s coughing episodes, I thought I could just rest a little and kick the apparent cold I had acquired. Things got worse. I missed Jefferson Cup, then Poolesville, then I had to add unscheduled rest days into my training plan, but I continued to think I could fix it. Finally my coworkers told me to take my disgusting cough home. Wasting time is one of the few things I hate more than unnecessary doctor visits (I have enough of them already with the insulin issues), so I decided to make myself useful and get this cough checked out. A chest X-ray showed a mass in my right lung, so my doctor ordered a CT scan. At this point everyone was freaking out: my parents about cancer, my teammates about recovering in time for Liberty Classic, my coworkers about who’s gonna pick up my slack on the construction documents, and me…well I was just freaking out about getting an IV in my arm. I hate needles. Even more than I hate wasting time actually. I tried to convince everyone that there was just an adorable puppy in my lung, and to leave me alone.

The day of the CT scan and needle doom arrived. I was in a drug-induced haze, so my teammate Alaina Gurski schlepped me to and from the hospital. Before the Gursk and I even got back in the house, the doctor called with mostly good news: no cancer, no TB, but oh yeah, now there are masses in both lungs, and they still don’t know what they are! The next thing I knew, an unattended dog wandered up to the front steps. Oh righteous vindication; I had told everyone they would find a puppy when they scanned me! I named him Chooch after my favorite Phillies player, and he moved in with me for a week until we located his owner. Chooch is now home, I’m cancer-free, and I'm cleared to ride until they can do more tests.

Bennington Race Weekend/Tour of the Dragons

2011-06-13T14:25:00.008-04:00

The weekend began with an 11-mile time trial full of climbing, descents, and sharp corners. The technical aspects of the course made me feel like my lack of TT bike wasn’t a major disadvantage, and I knew Marshmallow Colnago Wander wouldn’t let me down on his last race before being disassembled to build up my new team bike. Tom and the guys at Twenty20 Cycling hooked me up with a sweet pair of loaner wheels, and I felt confident that a stage win was within my grasp. Turns out, however, that I took 5^th in the ½, and Ky 6^th in the ¾. Knowing that time trialing was a strength for both of us, we both feared that this would be our best result of the weekend.

The TT course resulted in lots of different equipment choices

We shook off our disappointment and fatigue with some delicious Vermont cheese and a nap. With all expectations deflated by the morning’s stage, I went into the crit feeling like I had nothing to lose and decided to go for some sprint points. I surprised myself by taking 2^nd in every intermediate sprint and also in the finish for the 1/2. Ky used her pent up TT frustration to solo away and win the 3/4 crit, snagging the green sprinter’s jersey along the way.

The apparent change in our strong events left us bewildered as we prepared for the next day’s road race. 62 miles and 4000 feet of climbing awaited, and I woke up the next day hacking up a lung. After the previous day’s surprises, I decided to pack my jersey with clif bars and cough drops and hope for the best. I flatted at the start line and was set up with a neutral wheel just as the whistle was blowing. Marshmallow’s campy drivetrain was confused by the Shimano wheel, but there was no time to look for alternatives. The climbs were short and steep, and they dug deep into my capacity for 3- and 5-minute suffering intervals. One of the early climbs shattered the group, and I found myself in a breakaway of 5. A break that early in the race seemed like a risk, but I could move up 2 places in the GC by getting away from the group. Maybe the maltitol in my sugar-free cough drops gave me just the right amount of gastrointestinal discomfort to haul ass to the finish line, but something allowed me to commit. The breakaway stuck, and the boulevard finish finally came into sight. I took 2^nd in the stage, securing 3^rd in the GC and a massive phlegm ball. Ky took 6^th in the ¾ road race, 5^th overall in her field, and a lot of points toward her 2 upgrade. A solid last effort for the Marshmallow.

Ky and I sported Twenty20 tattoos on Sunday

Chantilly and Dolan: Crashes, Podiums, and Teamwork

2011-06-10T13:46:00.010-04:00

On the weekend of April 16-17, the Wasabi Warriors rolled into DC for Chantilly Criterium and Carl Dolan "Road Race" (it was more of a circuit race or a crit with a little hill).

Chantilly was my first team race of the year, and the first time I'd ever participated in a team race plan. I didn't know what to expect, and I was nervous that I would fail to execute my job. We started by launching attacks and responding to others. My teammate Kyleanne "Ky" Hunter and I got in the most promising break of the day, but it didn't stick. We worked with the windy conditions to keep the pack strung out all the way until the final sprint. Sarah Iepson and Nikki Raspa began the CAWES leadout train, and I wiggled up to Nikki with our sprinter on my wheel. Michelle "Mitch" Hart came around me with perfect timing and secured 2nd place for CAWES. I managed to salvage 4th place without completely going into cardiac arrest. I was really pleased with our first attempt at teamwork!

The next day's clear weather seemed perfect to reveal our new white kits without the risk of dirtying them in the rain. The weather report didn't mention blood!! Several laps into the race, a bad crash caused us to be neutralized while an ambulance came. The remaining laps were reduced, so the outcome was sure to be short and sprinterly. Ky started to string things out with 2 corners to go. I came next, pulled like hell up the little hill, and then Mitch came around me and told me to sweep. Not being very good at responding to developing situations, I was elated to receive such specific instructions and tried to protect her wheel. The next thing I knew, I was hitting the pavement in a field sprint crash. Mitch took 3rd place and the 2nd CAWES podium of the weekend, and I emerged with my first DNF, a busted kit and helmet, partially intact self-confidence, but still some satisfaction with the teamwork.

Determined to regain my confidence and salvage some training volume after the shortened race, I borrowed a helmet and pinned on a number for the Dolan men's 123. The field of 100+ was by far the biggest I'd been in, and the aggression and pack behavior were almost overwhelming. Riders were bumping each other left and right. I was so spooked from crashing just an hour earlier, that I forced myself to stay in it and learn. I took a glorious...er...um...45th place, but most importantly, learned some handling lessons and got *slightly* more comfortable in a pack. Meanwhile, P won the men's cat 4 race. He definitely has a future in this bike racing thing. And maybe I do in this coaching thing?

Here I was the next day at work, drafting skills compromised and design skills suffering from the bonk to the head...

Return to Race Reporting...

2011-06-09T13:40:00.003-04:00

OK, so after not writing for a year or so, I'm returning to blogging, this time with a focus on race reporting. Hopefully there will still be time for the occasional post about training in the Illadel PA, how exactly an athlete resolves her 34-bottles-of-ketchup-a-year habit with her financial and caloric limitations, or how to create a totally sweet time trialing machine out of a used road bike, an ipod cord, some duct tape, and a gel wrapper used by a stranger.

I'll be retroactively posting some early-2011 races until I get caught up. I'll try to go in order. As usual, my apologies for the lateness.

Battenkill 2011: Chocolatey Delicious

2011-06-09T13:16:00.010-04:00

(Lex Albrecht 1st, Me 2nd, Melissa Ross 3rd)

Race Goal: Top 20 and finish in the front group.

Plan A: Let the course whittle the pack down. Don’t go with any break unless strong riders are in it. Plan B: If the pack stays together, sprint like hell.

I expected the mileage and climbing to break up the field more than they did. Specialized/Mazda/Juvederm had a bunch of riders at the front controlling the pace and occasionally launching failed attempts (or bluffs?) at breakaways. Lots of people crowded the yellow line, and I had to give a few riders the ol’ stink elbow to defend my space. There was an attack on the 3^rd hill (paved road), but the group came back together on the descent. The next hill was a dirt/gravel stair step in 3 sections. It was easier to spin up it in the saddle to keep traction. I hung on a strong rider's wheel and hoped she would attack on the dirt descent. Yes! She went screaming down the dirt with me and another rider in tow. We had a gap and I was committed. We each pulled through several times, but one lady blew up. It wasn’t going to stick so we sat up and waited for the pack. The final dirt sections whittled away some of the strong riders, but the swarm behind us was still bigger than I expected.

The last 10 miles and final climb were really slow. Juvederm kept attacking and then sitting up. Crap, this was going to come down to a field sprint. I sat in somewhere around 8^th wheel, took the inside corner on the final 2 turns, and passed everyone but Lex Albrecht (Juvederm) to take 2nd. Holy crap. P came rushing up with a hug and kept telling me that I sprinted like a missile. Finally when I asked how his finish was, he was all like, "Oh yeah, I won." Holy crap. Congrats to P on winning by 40 seconds as a newly minted cat 4!!! Did I mention I've been coaching him since November?

Finally, instead of trying to TT away like a hyperactive monkey on coke, I accomplished the goal with the secret weapons of 1. Elbows, 2. Brain, 3. Sprint. I can't believe how much I'm already learning from my teammates the "Wasabi Warriors" of CAWES, and our awesome race director Mike Birner.

Keeping D.C. out of the red, in the pink

2010-03-01T06:14:00.000-05:00

As I sit here nibbling on my Starbucks panini sandwich, Washington DC's plan to host the opening stages of the 2012 Giro d'Italia is taking shape. To host one of cycling's Grand Tours is to bring tourism and all of its associated fame, fanny packs, and revenue to a city. But surely there are challenges in going intercontinental with one of cycling's biggest races and all of its associated athletes, equipment, and fluffers. The major hurdles surrounding the first non-European stage of a Ground Tour would include a six-hour time difference for the athletes as they fly to Italy, funding for DC's preparations, and generating interest in a sport that doesn't register on most Americans' radars. As for the transport issue, I say HTFU. All the riders will be exposed to the same challenges of jet lag and stale mini pretzels, so it seems equitable. And with the US's unmatched strength in both reality-defying finance and creating overnight celebrities, our country should have no trouble turning the Giro d'America into one hot panino.

First, American corporate juggernauts have a long, proud history of dominating international sporting events. The Giro's promoters will simply have to decide who to team up with. Let me make a few suggestions: an obvious financier of this epic display of manliness would be a male enhancement drug, one of whose name is only one letter off from a middle-of-the-line Shimano groupset and sounds vaguely Italian. However catchy the Viagra Giro d'Italia may sound though, Pfizer's coffers are surely sealed as they brace for another attempt at a healthcare bill. No go. Let's switch our focus to the undeniable fact that -Amurica- does Italian bigger and better than Italy does. The Giro and the District will be seeing green when they announce the 2012... Once the corporate sponsor is secured, DC will just need to stir up some good old American hype. It's easy to recruit fans to an unpopular athletic event with reality TV on our side. Personally, I think Mark Cavendish would make a fetching Bachelor, and perhaps Cadel Evans' next fist fight should be sorted out publicly on the Dr. Phil Show. Most critically though, I urge all Texans to write in Lance Armstrong for governor this fall. DC 2012: Yes we can, cycling fans.

Don't Fred on Me, Philadelphia

2010-02-23T20:14:00.000-05:00

When they feel that the government has failed them, some Pennsylvanians cling to guns and religion. When Philly cyclists are snubbed by snow storms, public services, and inconsiderate drivers, we cling to studded tires and...um...bike-mounted plows? Well maybe we should. It's been almost two weeks since the last major snow storm, and the bike lanes are still defiled:

Half the lane has been cleared on Spruce St. The cleared portion of the bike lane symbol looks more like a unicycle than its two-wheeled cousin. Nice of the city to think of its unicycle-commuting contingent, but come on Philly, the bicycle is still a more popular device on snowy days.

On Spring Garden, drivers have taken matters into their own hands. On this block they managed to take up both the parking lane and the bike lane by parking diagonally. Good effort, guys.

Now I've never been big on reading, but I can tell from the picture that the little Ikea man here is not riding a car...

...but the Fredworthy award for bike lane defilement goes to this awesome pile of snow at 20th and Spring Garden. Nice job, jerks.

I've always had a lot of faith in the brotherly love of Philadelphians, but I think it's clear that in snow storms, every cyclist is on their own. I'm not suggesting we all mail teabags to Mayor Nutter, but maybe we should equip our spandex-clad militia with some of these.