Rest day

Thursday, 13 July

Nothing exciting on the agenda today in Seven Springs. We headed over to Kevin's B&B to watch the Tour, went shopping in the metropolis of Somerset, came home, tried to second-guess the weather, and went for a little ride. We prerode the "long" road course, which I never get to race on. My rule was to ride such an easy gear all day that my legs never hurt. It was a good challenge on a course that features about 4000 feet of climbing, but I managed. Some of the course is on nice little country roads like this one, but a bunch of it is on big ol' county roads, complete with big red pick-ups that don't want to give you an inch. At least we had a dry two-hour window!

Momentum is your friend

Wednesday, 12 July

This was my double stage day at masters nationals: first the tandem time trial (30K at 9:25), then my individual event (21K at 16:57).

Just as we set out on our warm-up ride on the tandem, it started to rain. Hard. We only had about 15 minutes to warm up before we had to report to the queue at the start line, so we rode up and down the road (getting soaked through), then went back to get checked in. Then we stood around, chatted with a couple of other tandem pairs, stretched, and it was time for one of our biggest races of the year.

Martin had not seen the course, and I think Clint and I made his eyes (ears?) glaze over as we tried to talk him through the whole 30K last night. He did remember the hairpin and the sharp corner/fast descent down to the one-lane bridge, but everything else was just chatter. Kenny’s advice as we were about 5 minutes from starting was to carry all the momentum we could through each descent/ascent transition.

Without much warm-up, we hurt going up the first climb. You think it’s a signifcant climb—until you get to the next one. But first you have to go around a hairpin bend where the winner of the elite men’s TT went off the road in a preride. We passed the bike ahead of us on that second climb, which made us feel pretty good. Martin said he was breathing really hard there, but so were they! (Oh yeah, so was I.)

The rest of the ride in the park and out into farm country was uneventful. In a bit of wishful thinking, Martin saw a corner marshall at the first intersection on the straight road and hoped it was the turnaround. But no, we had about another 3K to go before it was time to turn back.

Coming back hurt some more. We had to really dig deep in the granny gear to get up a couple of the rollers. There’s a big long descent going back as you head for the one-lane bridge, but it was over in very short order on the tandem. We kind of bogged down coming back to the county road that leads back to the park entrance, and it was raining fiercely at that point.

There’s a nice descent as you come into the park, a climb that seemed shorter on the tandem up to a park office, then a long, long descent that eventually transitions into the hairpin. I was surprised to feel Martin engage the brakes on this section—it’s where most folks hit 50 on their single bikes, so we were surely traveling faster than that (Martin is shaking his head no). And we carried our momentum so far into the hairpin that it was almost as technical going uphill as down!

About 1K from the finish, there’s a sharper/faster-than-you-expect bend where Martin couldn’t see for about 100 meters (which he told me after we finished). There was a sudden pull on the brakes there! We just powered up the last little hill before the gradual drop to the finish, straight through the chutes and under the banner. We had passed two bikes but had no idea how we did. (I’ll tell you later.)

Then it was back to our condo and every single recovery technique I’ve ever heard of. Martin and Clint went back to the TT course for Clint’s race, and I was supposed to sleep. But that didn’t happen. Ten minutes on the trainer and, when Martin sent me a text message to say the roads were drying out, 2.75 miles spinning around the adjoining parking lots on my road bike to try to remember how to handle a single bike.

For my single TT, I got to go down the start ramp. Of course the holder never holds you perfectly straight and I VERY nearly collided with the start clock at the bottom of the ramp. But with one expletive, I averted disaster and was on my way. It had stopped pouring just before my start, but there was still thunder in the area. The male companion of one woman in my age group summed up how to ride the course: carefully, but not too carefully.

I was too careful. The bike would’ve done more than I asked/let it. All I really wanted was a nap and it took me a while to get going well. I chose tuck (which kept my hands on the brakes) over aero bars a bit too often, and brakes instead of not braking way too often. I was surprised how often I had to get out of the saddle (we didn’t on the tandem). I had to go up two of the three hills we did in the granny gear on the tandem, but my lowest gear wasn’t nearly that low and my legs HURT. Every time I felt mostly miserable I reminded myself that this was national championships and would chant “PO-DI-UM” in my brain to try to make myself go that little bit faster—or at least not go slower.

I think I passed three or four riders, but they were all men in an older age group and thus not who I really wanted to pass. My 30-second woman took off like a shot from the start and I never saw her again. I didn’t see my 60-second woman, either, so I was getting worried that I was riding at a snail’s pace—but nobody caught me (except a moto, which gave me a brief scare when I thought it was a rider!).

So. Results. Martin and I won the masters mixed 70+ tandem race by 16 seconds. Not bad considering that our combined ages are 88 (the next higher category is 90+), which meant we were racing against folks a lot younger than us. We had no idea what to expect, and certainly didn’t expect to win. The main reason I did my individual time trial was because I thought I stood a reasonably good chance of making the podium. And I only JUST barely did: I was 1.4 seconds ahead of the woman in sixth place.

I learned/reaffirmed something today: it is really important to go as hard as you can every second in a time trial because sometimes things come down to a very small margin. And I surprised a whole bunch of people today by riding (and winning!) on the back of a tandem, in the rain, on a very hilly, technical course, with someone who had not ridden or driven the course and not having a single moment of fear or panic.

After winning elite nationals on this course last week, Kristin Armstrong said it was the hardest time trial she had ever done. That’s because TTs have become nearly by definition flat, straight, and boring. This was a really, really hard course, but it was so much more fun than powering along at a constant heart rate on some straight road. This is a thinker’s course: you have to pay attention the whole time. All those mantras I usually need never came into play (except “PO-DI-UM”). To get to race it twice was almost as good as the bling.

Martin's race report is here.

Regional dialects

Monday, 10 July

Clint and I were out preriding the TT course here in Seven Springs this afternoon when we came across this sign. I guess it translates as a statement about the condition of the road, but it might as well be a menu for a diner up the way. We had to drive 20 miles today to buy beer (only by the case, from a "distributor" in this state), so who knows how they like their chips!

The course was an absolute blast to soft pedal on a road bike. The TT itself will be a different matter, though: lots of time out of the saddle, out of the aerobars, in the small chain ring, wondering why I don't have a 34 small chain ring on my TT bike.... The road is never straight and never flat. There is one 180-degree hairpin and a couple of places where you can't see over the crest of a hill. The road goes every which way, so sometimes it's a headwind, sometimes a crosswind, and, I guess, sometimes a tailwind. There are three substantial climbs, but you can settle into those; the rest of the time the course just rolls and rolls.

It's a scenic course. The first and last 4 miles are through a beautiful forest in a state park, then you break out into rolling farm country. Green, lots of trees, kind of like Co. Wicklow but nothing like Co. Donegal for which a nearby town is named.

Tomorrow we preride it on the TT bikes, in the aero bars (where my nerves allow).

Ian and Kenny !!

Thursday, 6 July

Mick was reading to me last night some online report about "who to watch" in the time trial at elite national championships today. One of the men mentioned was someone he'd beaten in a TT, so he didn't give much credence to the story. Then, on the trainer this morning, I was thinking that Ian McKissick was the guy to watch--along with my teammate Kenny Williams, of course.

So it was pretty sweeeeet to find out that Ian won and Kenny was third! Way to go, guys! Congrats to Ian on his new jersey. He'll be watched for sure in the road race on Saturday. What a bittersweet year for everyone at Recycled Cycles.

Vinaccio Coffee

Tuesday, 4 July

I capped off the long holiday weekend with a 91-mile spin out to the lovely 'burb of Sultan, known to most as the last bastion of civilization on the way to skiing at Stevens Pass. On this holiday, the bakery (creators of the best donuts on any bike ride) was closed, so we explored a little and came to the Vinaccio Coffee Company. What an amazing place in the middle of the Sky Valley! A little bit of coffee culture in the midst of pickups-that-run-cyclists-off-the-road country. Most of their beans are fair trade and organic, and they roast their own. You just about stumble over the bags of beans stacked around the shop. Comfy chairs, tables outside, free internet access--what else do you need for a coffee stop in the middle of your summer (or winter!) ride?

And the stopping wasn't the only sweet part of this ride. The raspberries on the Tualco Loop Road were super fragrant in the humid sunshine, the stretch of the Ben Howard Road along the Skykomish River was magnificent, riding through the narrow wooded sections of the Old Pipeline Road was tranquil, and it was just a great day to be out and about on a bike!

A better example

Sunday, 2 July

Today I was schooled. A friendly and gracious professional woman cyclist, Kim Anderson of T-Mobile, paid a brief visit this weekend to Oregon bike racing. On Saturday, she very impressively rode 7 of the 9 laps (80 of 100 miles) of the pro-1-2 men's state road race championship. There were fewer than 20 men left in the race when she chose to pull out (she was sitting comfortably in the pack at that point). Today, she rode the cat 3 men's race at Mt. Tabor, finishing fourth, and then raced the cat 1-2-3 women's race.

Needless to say, she won. But she did it in such a thoughtful way. As we started, she said "let's keep it together." And she let the locals race their race. She didn't push the pace, I don't think she even sprinted for any primes. For the first few laps, she made sure the main group regrouped at the top of the hill. She congratulated all of us on a good race after the finish (whether we'd had one or not). She chatted with people after the race. She was a wonderful ambassador for the sport.

Okay, so my efforts on a bike are not remotely close to those of Kim Anderson, and it was pretty much a given that she was going to win today while I was unsure about some of my competition yesterday. But for all the cynical men who thought I was bonkers for entertaining the slightest bit of guilt for riding away from my field yesterday, look at Kim's example today and understand maybe a little bit of how women's racing is different from men's.

Results are here.

Guilty pleasure

Saturday, 1 July

Back in the Dark Ages when I was a cat 4, there were never any separate cat 4 women’s races so we always raced with the 1-2-3s. And I got really annoyed when a cat 1 or 2 woman would show up for a race and feel obliged to demonstrate her prowess, attack, blow the field apart, and turn some nice road race into a mass-start time trial. Women like to have fun at a bike race, and being made to realize your limitations from the get-go just isn’t very much fun. And lots of women who don’t have fun don’t come back to play. Hence the small fields and lack of separate cat 4 races in the Dark, Demeaning Ages of my past.

Today I was guilty of that offense. I didn’t mean to offend, and I took pleasure in my victory. But I probably didn’t do much for warm sentiment in the masters women’s field.

Sixteen women started the Oregon masters women state road race championship outside Elmira this afternoon. We started together but were scored in 3 age groups: 30+, 40+, and 50+. (Our course was the same as the one I raced tandem on a few weeks ago.) Some of the women I recognized, and I know that not all of them turn up for many mass-start events. So I knew from the gun that there were reluctant racers and women who probably didn’t really like racing with cat 1s and 2s. I vowed to myself to not ride at the front much early on, not set tempo on the climbs, and try to keep a happy group together for the first lap (we did 3).

But you know what they say about good intentions. I let Mary set tempo up the first hill (the shorter, steeper one), but she drifted back in the last 100 meters and I was first over the top. Two TGH women came past very quickly on the fast descent with about 6 more women on their wheels. We had a group of 9 for a while, and at least 2 of them demonstrated a distinct (no, scary) lack of pacelining experience. A few more caught back on as we were trying to explain the concept.

The second climb is about 2 kilometers long. I told myself again not to ride at the front, just let someone else set a tempo they were comfortable with. This worked for a while, but women kept dropping back and pretty soon there was no one between me and the lead car. If you let me settle into a comfortable rhythm, I tend to stay there. When the road flattened out with about 600 meters to the top of the hill, I just kept the effort constant. When the pitch increased again with about 300 meters to the top, there was no one on my wheel. And after that, the race was a time trial for just about everybody.

There’s a nice twisty descent after the longer climb, and I was happy to ride it solo. I was disappointed that it was not nearly as fast or as much fun as it had been on the tandem but I still motored along. At the bottom I realized I had a good gap and needed to get to work, so I went pretty hard up the short steep hill on the second lap. I was light-headed and seeing stars at the top! (I forgot to mention that it was 90 degrees this afternoon.) I watched my speedometer on the descent and smiled when it got over 45 mph. When the road flattened out, the driver of the lead car told me the gap was 32 seconds. I thought this section was flat on the tandem, but it really undulates and it was hard to stay focused on going hard. Three-quarters of a lap later, the lead car guy told me I had 2.5 minutes and said “just keep the hammer down, darlin’.” It’s been a while since anyone’s called me “darlin” so that kept me smiling for another stretch. And I decided maybe I didn’t need stars again at the top of the steep climb.

Yeah, I stayed away and won my category and the race overall. Yeah, the biggest group I saw finish together was 2 women. Yeah, I was happy to win and actually pleased to have some TT training, even if it was on the wrong bike. But I wonder if it would’ve been better to keep the race together, teach some of those women how to paceline, encourage others on the hard bits of the climb…..Okay, I don’t feel really guilty, but the thought did cross my mind that the me of 10 years ago would’ve been annoyed at the me of today. Proud, but annoyed.

Results are here.

What's in your blood?

Friday, 30 June

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the world's most ardent fan of pro bike racing. But still, I'm devastated by today's news from the Tour de France. It all reads like a bad April Fool's joke, three months late.... Maybe Tyler is getting his first good laugh in months....

Conversation starter

Sunday, 25 June

Where else but a bike race can a man start a conversation with a woman he barely knows with "is your butt sore after riding 100 miles"?

There were a few other entertaining features on the final day of the Elkhorn Classic, which involved 101 miles, 3 major climbs, 2 unrated climbs (each only about a mile long), and the epic 8-mile, 95-degree killer climb to the finish at the top of Dooley Mountain:

:) The ex-pro riding all day with the chainring tattoo (obviously, it does happen to the best of us).

:) The local cat 3/4 who said "clear" each time the ex-pro was ready to pull off the front of the rotating paceline (um, do you think she's done this before?).

:) The rider who, after the first climb, tried to slow down the race and watch and wait for her teammate to catch back on--who finally did about a mile before the second climb, at which time she immediately got dropped for good.

:) 15 women desperate for water, all trying to get the same bottle from the first feeder in the neutral feed zone, totally oblivious to the 25 other feeders spread out over the next 200 meters.

:) Goodies at the finish (which is 17 miles from the start) included generous supplies of bottled water, sliced watermelon and oranges and bananas, cookies no doubt made with love by every branch of the Hobson clan (and there are lots), pretzels, AND TWO KEGS OF BEER! Picture 400 hot, dehydrated bike racers at the top of an 8-mile climb and the end of a 101-mile race--sitting in the sun, drinking beer. Not very many bike races finish with that kind of party atmosphere.

In all fairness I have to admit that I was probably pretty entertaining in my efforts to put my clothes back on after our pee stop. Yes, bib shorts are comfortable, but without a full-zip jersey, they are quite the challenge. It wasn't so bad getting everything off, but trying to get the jersey back on before everyone else was a kilometer down the road brought an adrenaline rush. Especially because the jersey pockets were loaded with food, an empty bottle, and wrappers that I wouldn't want to strew in the sage brush.

And to those who would chastise me for being hypocritical in condemning men who pee in the parking lot at Pacific Raceways while I take part in race pee stops, all I can say is there wasn't a house within 10 miles and the landscape was populated by sage brush and a few cows. And certainly there were no porta-potties or flush toilets in sight. Uncle Sam and the Russians were no doubt watching from space, so we'll probably all show up on the Internet in a few days anyway. At least this year I managed not to get any burrs stuck to the inside of my shorts while they were down around my ankles!

Magical? Not so much

Saturday, 24 June

That magical combination I was hoping for in today's TT of downhill out, tailwind back turned out to be headwind out, uphill back. Semantic difference, I know, but it was a big one on the bike. I hardly got to ride in my 11 at all, and even the downhill bits didn't seem fast. Clint and others reported that the last 3K were really fast, but anything I have to ride in my 17 can't possibly be fast. I caught a few and was not passed, and I didn't have to either shift to my small ring or get out of the saddle on the hardest hill on the return. It was hard, but it's a good course, and more interesting than the old one here at Elkhorn.

We didn't get results until we turned up for the crit this afternoon, and my time wasn't so bad. Allison, whose TT times are usually really close to mine, proved that Philly and Nature Valley were great training and schooled me by 45 seconds. But there was no one in between us, so she got third and I was fourth. And I won stage money (thanks, Claire)!

I had a really hard act to follow in my crit. Never mind that I felt really tired and sleepy in the couple of hours before the start (not all naps are helpful). The masters raced right before the women, and Mick went off the front in the first two laps and stayed away to the finish. Clint bridged up, Mick's original break buddy got dropped, and Clint and Mick had 50 seconds on the pack by the finish. But for a $100 pack prime with 3 laps to go, they probably would've lapped the field.

So let's put a positive spin on my crit. I did better than I've ever done before on this course, and I only lost 20 more seconds in this stage than in the TT this morning. Compared to how much time most of us are going to lose tomorrow, a couple of minutes is a trifle.

And tomorrow should be interesting. In an effort to get the women's field to finish on the same day as the men (it's a 101-mile stage), we start first. That means 4 men's fields are going to pass us. We will have to be strategic about our pee break. It supposed to be 100 degrees in Portland tomorrow, so it will be a real cooker for us on the final 8-mile climb at about, what, 1:00 in the afternoon when the sun is blazing overhead. There are 2 feed zones, and it will be a day to drink a lot, even for me. I wonder how many layers of sunscreen applied at 7:30 a.m. it takes to still be effective at 1:00?

Turtles

Friday, 23 June

Funny thing happened in the race today. Okay, it wasn't so funny for the cat 3 rider who crashed and broke his collarbone. He hit a turtle. Not the kind you normally find on a crit course, but a real live creature who was out for a stroll on a summer afternoon. No word on the fate of the turtle. [Late addition: Turns out the crashee was a Second Ascent rider from Seattle, and the locals are baffled as to what a turtle was doing out there because the only turtles in these parts are in pet shops in Boise.]

Nothing so interesting in the women's race. We started out slow, which was fine with me because I had a long massage this morning and was hoping to spin everything out before the racing got serious. Some woman would periodically punch it, not to attack and get away, but just (I think) to move the pace up about 14 notches. We had our pee stop after the town of North Powder (it seems like a ghost town every year when we ride through) and then a pretty hard tempo up the never-ending climb that doesn't even get mentioned in the race bible. The descent into Union was very relaxed and the ride out of town along the river was pretty mellow. For a while. About 10K before "The Climb," the tempo went up and I thought I was going to have to put it back on my big ring. But spinning was my philosophy today, and I held on to that 34 front chain ring even when the tempo went over 20 mph.

One woman jumped not far into the main part of the climb, Alison was with her for a while and then wasn't, and then the chasing group of us just got smaller and smaller until there was a Tamarack rider and me. I couldn't hold her wheel through the feed zone, which was at the very top of the hill. Over the top and down the first sweeping turns and then the stairstep rollers up and up. I could see the two riders ahead of me but clearly was not making time on them. In another couple of miles, Heather Albert came flying past me like I was standing still--and then the train of about a dozen riders hot on her wheel. Between the technical descending and the crosswind, I just could not latch on to that train. Chase chase chase. Ouch. Never got on to that group, but it pretty much exploded in the last climb to the finish and I caught some of the fallout.

Nearly everyone today who raced is suffering from heat exhaustion and/or dehydration. I had goose bumps for a while before the finish. Every recovery trick in the book is being pressed into service tonight. Tomorrow is such a different day: TT and crit. But more wind and sunshine. Hopefully no turtles, though.

Baker City

Thursday, 22 June

I love Baker City. It's a big enough small town that you can't see from one end to the other. But it's a small enough big town that you can't get lost. The town sits in a valley between two mountain ranges, so the scenery is amazing. And you're a very long way from anywhere.

We rode out to the new Elkhorn time trial course this afternoon. It looks like the first mile of the course is downhill!! Carl was a little scared at the prospect of so many people going 50 mph at 30-second intervals. I'll use every cog on my cassette, but I think the 11 and 12 are going to be the favorites. It should be painful but magical: downhill out, tailwind back. Of course, the way you just "ride" a course is a lot different from how you race on it, so I'll probably fail to see anything magical about it on Saturday morning.

The forecast calls for sunshine all the way through Sunday, and I'm looking forward to the fifth year (my fourth--I had to skip it last year) of the Elkhorn Classic.

Bodily functions

Thursday, Ides of June

Okay, folks, remember all those things your mom told you not to do in public? That rule is in full force at bike races, too. You surely learned some common sense growing up; show the rest of us that you still have some left. Recent offenders include two men at Pacific Raceways this week:

To the guy in the 4-5s race who could not ride his bike in a straight line while spitting: unless you have some monster sinus infection (in which case you should probably not be on your bike), I can't figure out why you need to spit in the middle of a race. If you think you have to spit, at least figure out how to make your bike go straight when you turn your head. But please don't practice it in a race.

And to the male who had to pee in the parking lot, in spite of the plethora of porta-potties placed all over Pacific Raceways, I'm not sure what justice to wish upon your head. (There must be a great pun here involving the size of your "pee brain.") If marking "your" territory is part of your prerace ritual, please find another sport. You may be invited to do that anyway.

After those insults, I guess I'd better be on my best (or, at least, least offensive) behavior at the next few races....

Smack

Tuesday, 13 June

Hey all you smack talkin' guys, arguing about underperforming teams and overrepresented teams and "diverse" teams and all, I didn't see any of those aforementioned teams crossing the line first in the 1-2-3 race at Pacific Raceways tonight (or at Ballard on Saturday, for that matter). Way to go, Trevor (and Ron) (and Kenny)!

Paradise revisited

Sunday, 11 June

When I was down to the last two bites of my piece of chocolate cream pie in Eatonville this afternoon, I remembered yesterday's issue of flab.

But I deserved some flab-inducement today. Mick and I did a tour of the south side of Mt. Rainier: Ashford, Paradise, Stevens Canyon, Grove of the Patriarchs, Packwood, Skate Creek, and back to Ashford. I had never done this loop in this direction, and it is the only way to go! Less traffic on the busy stretch up to Paradise in the morning (waaay better than coming down with the tourist hordes in the afternoon). Almost no traffic on Stevens Canyon or 123 because Cayuse Pass is still closed. And Skate Creek from south to north is so beautiful you almost forget you're climbing (it's a 12-mile climb, so that's a pretty good trick).

We lucked out with the weather; the mountain was completely concealed by clouds when we got back to Ashford, but it was warm and sunny there. It was cold on the descent down Stevens Canyon (Reflection Lakes are still covered with ice and snow) but nearly 80 degrees in Packwood, and it was nice to ride in such warm sunshine.

Flab

Saturday, 10 June

Women store fat in different places than men. I used to work with a woman who wore long sleeves all summer because she was embarrased by how much fat she carried in her arms. I vowed not to let myself reach that state. So when I noticed a few years back on my TT bike that the fat in my forearms, um, jiggled when I rode, I figured I was headed in the wrong direction. But then I happened to see that Lance Armstrong suffered the same affliction when I watched a TT in the Tour that year. The pudgy jokes were all about Jan, not Lance, so I was hopeful that I didn't have so much to worry about.

Today Martin and I raced in the Oregon state tandem road race championship in Elmira (I think), west of Eugene. The course (which I last raced on 6? years ago) featured a "short, steep" climb (which was actually about a kilometer long, maybe 4-5% at the bottom and a healthy 8% at the top) and a "long, gradual" climb, which was about 2 kilometers long and maybe 4-5% most of the way. It was an 11-mile circuit we did 4 times. The descent off the "short, steep" climb was wicked fast: one tandem reported that they hit 52 mph, so we probably were somewhere in that ballpark.

So, going downhill at 52 mph on the back of a tandem, I now have no worries and plenty of time to notice that the fat in my upper arms jiggles when we're just rolling down a hill. I clench my muscles as tight as I can. Apparently I don't have enough muscle because it just keeps wobbling in the wind. WTF are all those hours in the gym for?? With nationals just a month away, clearly it's time for me to go on Kerry's Starbucks-and-water diet. And no, I don't have any delusions that I'm "fat," and yes, I remember that Leslie recently accused me of having arms so skinny that they are an "anatomy lesson." And the XS arm warmers I got for TRIA are loose and sag around my biceps/triceps. Maybe I should just wear long sleeves all the time so I can't notice my fat wobbling. Oh yeah, that was the problem/solution I vowed to avoid.

There was a race going on, even while I was having personal image issues. First time up the short hill we're neutral because the cat 4 men are catching us, and still I think we dropped 3 bikes. After the next time up that hill (also neutral--we played leapfrog with those guys until they finished at the end of our second lap), I think we were down to 6 bikes. And then 4. And then 3. The third lap was moderate up the hills because we figured it was going to come down to the last time up the last hill. And it did. We rode together pretty steady until 100m to the finish and then they accelerated and we did not. So we finished third.

Don't let anyone tell you stokers just sit on the back of the bike and confront their deepest fears of accumulating body fat and forget to pedal; my legs are more tired tonight than they were after the first road stage at Mt. Hood where I was racing/keeping up with professional women cyclists. I guess I should go to bed, eh, and stop blathering--I mean, blogging.

Martin's race report (sans flab) is here.
Results are here.

Stirrin' it up

Friday, 9 June

Current thinking apparently holds that you need to say shocking and offensive things to drive readers to your blog. I'm not out to offend any more than I have to, although I could have some fun with the spelling habits of various bloggers (especially the team manager who misspells the name of his own team). Instead, I'll skip the tabloid commentary and jump straight to the "inquiring minds want to know" department:


Next Saturday, 17 June, is the day of the Marymoor Little 100, one of the more spectacular bike racing events in the Northwest ("spectacular" here meaning "lots of people making spectacles of themselves"). Reliable sources indicate that these charming undies will grace the, ah, attire of one of those same spelling-challenged bloggers (whose offenses include "slams on his breaks").

So come out to Marymoor next Saturday afternoon and watch for Mighty Mouse to make his appearance. You might be shocked and you might be offended, but you'll surely have something to blog about!

Cooper

Saturday, 3 June

Sometimes when I'm sick and--at the most fundamental level--all I want is my mommy, the very next-best thing is a kitty. Lucky me, I found Cooper here today at the Cooper Spur Mountain Resort. When I finally dragged myself out of bed at 10:30 a.m., I came up to the lodge to get my wifi fix and spooked Cooper away from his food dish. On my way out, he didn't bolt quite so far, and I finally got close enough to pet him. Then he was butter in my hands, rolling on my feet, kneading his paws into my leg, and distracting me from my less than happy state. Purrs are very therapeutic.

D.N.S.

Friday, 2 June

It's been a long time (at least that I can remember) since I didn't start a stage at a race. (Bill W. was the CR then, too, but I don't think this is his fault.) I felt awful when I got up, breakfast didn't make it better, and I thought I was going to get carsick on the way to the start. I could've ridden the first 8 miles of today's course (ALL downhill), but then I would've been looking for a ride somewhere in the 8-mile climb back up to the Cooper Spur resort. And the race did that circuit 3 times. Which is worse: DNS or DNF?

I can't say much about the scenery up there on the mountain because it was either raining or foggy or both. Riders were covered in dirt and muck when they finished. Nobody wanted a bottle in the feed zone. "This is hell" were the words from a TGH rider, and even one of the very toughest riders in the women's peloton almost cracked and had a meltdown. I never know what exactly to say to riders as they suffer their way through a race where I'm standing by the side of the road. Well, not completely true: I told Adrian H. he rocked the second time he came through the feed zone in a 2-man break. He looked good (wet, dirty, in pain, but strong), but they were getting reeled in on the third pass.

So now I don't get to do the TT from windy hell or the crit from crit hell. I hope I feel better by Sunday so that I can ride that course, which is supposed to be heaven and hell on a bike.

Craziest thing I ever...

Thursday, 1 June

An incomplete sentence, maybe, but those words from another rider pretty well summed up the best bit of race entertainment (?) in the women’s peloton at Hood today. At the end of the first of our two laps, a woman dropped back in the field (not off the back, mind you) and started to roll down her shorts. She eventually had them pulled down below her crotch, positioned herself off one side of the bike, and I would assume she peed but the view and the thought of what was to come made me move up faster than anything has ever motivated me before. I’ve been in races where women have peed on the bike, but I had never seen the drop-the-drawers approach. The fact that she was able to keep pedaling (intermittently) and stay on the back of the pack suggests that she has practiced this before.

The other surprising thing about today’s race was that most of the field stayed together. Our Columbia Hills stage was much the same as the Wasco tandem race plus about 10 extra miles. The climb was the same, and oh did it hurt this time. The field got all strung out the first time up but everyone eventually caught back on. There were a couple of exposed descents and some 90-degree right turns in the new section. But the two much-talked-about features were a “heinous”/“acute” right turn and tricky hairpins in the last 5 miles. The acute turn was so heinous that the pack slowed down and navigated it carefully. The pitch in the apex of the turn was probably 20%, and there was gravel for added thrills. But it didn’t split the field. The hairpins were down a very gradual descent (1%?) and weren’t hairpins, just a twisty road—with a headwind. We all checked them out the first time around, thinking it would be a sweet place to get away and be out of sight going in to the finish.

I thought I was really smart on the first lap for knowing the course and tried to move up near the front in the half mile before the climb. But it was REALLY windy up there, and about half the field had the same idea. So fighting for position lost out to fighting the wind and I started up the hill in the last quarter of the field. I abandoned any notions of good position before the second climb, but the wind had picked up, which favored those of us on the back. I thought there would be attacks in the last 10 miles, what with those technical turns and fast descents and some painful little rollers. But no, we were all still together even after the acute corner. There were no attacks in all those twisty bends, but the speed really ramped up. I found an experienced wheel I knew and stuck to it. Things eased up a bit with 2K to go. I was waiting for an all-out explosion in the last kilometer, but it never materialized. I even moved up in the sprint. And (dare I say it?), the high-speed slightly technical finish was pretty fun. Several women said they didn’t like it, but I wasn’t one of ‘em!

This is the first time I can remember that I’ve raced with a rolling enclosure and got to use the whole road for the race. It was great. And it was the biggest field (72) I’ve been in for a very long time. There were a few times when our moto official moved up through our pack with the photographer behind him on another motorcycle. That wasn’t fun the first time (although it helped me move up), but we figured it out. The dead porcupine feature was gone from the shoulder. There was some interesting bike handling and a few choice words. Mostly, though, it was a pretty mellow race. Even the top of GC recognizes that the topography is what makes this race. Starting tomorrow.

Stage results are here.