Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger.

I guess I should do a race summary for the year. It is that time of year and it would be a waste if I didn’t use this as an opportunity to find ways to improve. Lets start with the improving to get it out of the way.

Ways to win more:

1. Go faster.
2. Fall down less.
3. Pedal harder.

I think that about covers the self improvement.

On to the race recap!

Winter felt good with the fat bike racing and grass crits turning out well until I caught a nasty cold that dragged into spring. My lungs slowly started to work again just in time to race at Buck Hill and Opus a few times. Then it was off to Park City to watch my little sister graduate and sneak into the mountains on my Focus. That was fun and different. The mountains just keep going and you are always either boiling hot on the ascent or numb to your bones on the decent. After we returned to reality I had a few more Opus races that worked out alright. The most fun ones being the ones that I broke off the front with too many laps to go. I’ve failed and I’ve succeeded and I wouldn’t give either one back. Buck continued to go pretty well. I attended more races than most of my competitors so I ended up on the podium for the second half of the season. Heath and I joked that we got attendance awards. The difference was that he deserved his.

MNSCS racing was a mixed bag. I continue my tradition of sucking at Laddies Loppet and the Border Battle, and am starting a new tradition of sucking at Mont Du Lac. The rest of it went pretty well. The Freewheel Frolic was a mud fest that I was prepared for with mud tires and a good amount of early season fitness. Afton and Buck races are climbing races that I always feel at home doing. Particularly Buck because of our weekly series. All the other ones are fun and are kind of hit or miss. Except St. Cloud. I don’t like St. Cloud. Stay away from St. Cloud. Eh, maybe next year?

Chequamegon. I don’t know what there is to say about Chequamegon except that I got ridiculously lucky and did way better than I should have. That race was fun and I’ll remember it forever.

Cross loved me this year. It gave me my first real win of the year, even if the race was sparsely attended. Then I had my ups and downs even landing squarely on my head in an over the bars attack. Not a well thought out attack, but had to give it a go. My hat is off to Charlie, Mitch, and Fred. Three guys that were head and shoulders faster than me the whole cross season. Thanks for letting me hook onto your wheels on occasion.

Through all of this Amy managed to not strangle me to death while I slept. Thanks honey. You have the hardest job of all.

Plan B:

Sitting at work I think of bike after bike that I need to build. Trouble when you are rapidly approaching N+1. Plan B occurred to me suddenly as I lusted for a sweet Karate Monkey with shiny White Industries stuff. Really? My lust is for a steel bike with no gears? Yes, I needed it. Deep in my desire is when it occurred to me that I have these perverse feelings while I have dead time at work. The solution...quilt...or quit depending on how my right ring finger feels about typing. The plan is to spend work time on the bike thus eliminating bike porn time and halting the spew of money into bikes. Sounds like a good solution, now all I need are enablers and yes men to tell me how smart of an idea this is. Also I encourage this for others. I am your yes man.

I wrote something for a bike company.

I could tell the rain was coming by the sheets hanging from the sky to the west, but was hoping we would make it closer to home before we were rained on. With about 35 miles to go I felt the tickle on my eyelash and knew we were about to get wet. A crack of lightning seemed closer than I wanted and signaled that it was time to up the pace. I looked over at Reece and started pushing harder. My breathing started to get heavy and the rain started to come down with a thickness. I could feel my legs starting to protest, but in the rain that doesn’t matter. Faster and faster we went always within a wheel of each other. By now we were flying over the crushed lime stone that makes up the Southwest LRT trail. I couldn’t help but start laughing. I looked over with a smile I couldn’t hide and said one of my favorite quotes, ”Hey Reece! I don’t think the heavy stuff is going to come down for quite some time!”

Biking is funny. We don’t just do stuff that everyone else tries their hardest to avoid. We obsess over it. We fall in love with it. Biking becomes our lives. I remember a quote from when I was younger that said that a person who can speak two languages can see the world with two souls. I think that being a cyclist gives a person a window to the world that is closed to everyone else. At times that is a good thing. I’ll take every sunset that rips open the horizon and pours its fire across the sky. I’ll put up with the deer that doesn’t hear me coming and storms across the trail two feet off my wheel. I can handle the family of bald eagles feeding in the tree above me screeching to ward me off. What I have trouble handling is the time that cycling hoards from family and loved ones. That I think is the price that has been paid before by everyone who has followed their passion to a depth that borders on obsession.

Obsession in the summer is racing. Most evenings and weekends are full with crits, mountain bike races and “friendly” group rides. Usually the free day is Monday. That I spend doing what other than mountain biking with my friend Owen. The summer is easy to hammer everyday. If it seems too hot or rainy I remember February. I remember the battle to keep my eyelids from freezing shut. I remember my fingers starting to ache from the cold knowing eventually they’ll stop if I can handle the pain. Summer is freedom through work.

Obsession in the winter is nature. I ride everyday in the winter for myself. The winter reminds me of why I got into biking. The colors are fantastic until they fade. Then everything becomes dark until the full moon shows a snow covered landscape that goes off for an eternity into the dark. The stars fill the sky and Van Gogh comes alive. It is a time to investigate the beaver dams and gawk at the size of the birds. The cold is cold. It is hard. The chill will stay with me all year, but it is worth the effort. Winter is beauty through work.

Cycling to me is all of those things. Love, passion, obsession, and failure. Expensive in every way, but worthwhile in so many more ways.

Is this what you meant Joe?

Last week was cold enough for Caydel to break out his hat and for me to finally need my sweater. The sweater is race fit after a run through the drier. This week has been lots of fun with the Mukluk. Lots of friends and lots of tire. You can't beat it.

Waffles.

My anticipation is growing, for tomorrow the smell of waffles will accompany the taste of blood as I race at full effort to evade the hangover that tonight's award celebration is sure to bring. The weather looks like it will be nice and my bike is well rested from an unwanted two week break. My legs have no form, though I am well practiced at falling on my head so I should still be able to give some illusion of professionalism.

I used to dislike this time of year because of winter's approach. I've really warmed up to it recently because there aren't any expectations, just riding and fun. I mostly only have time to ride to work these days, but that is usually good enough to keep me happy. The part that does leave me disgruntled is the way that darkness has enveloped my entire commute. I miss seeing the deer, the lakes, and the trees. Some days there is a nice reflection from the moon that makes it a bit like a late night summer boat trip. Though it is usually more common that I stare with neutral affection at a small illuminated circle a car length ahead of me. I guess a good rule of thumb is to accept it with a smile. It could always be colder.

Head banger's ball.

The light is getting harder to find, but Amy has been understanding as I've continued to spend a fair amount of time on my bicycle. The majority of my riding has been non-competitive fall riding. I love the riding in fall. It is bittersweet because of the coming cold, but it is the most fulfilling outdoor time you can spend. I've done a little bit of cross racing. Last weekend I had an encounter with the sand that I never want to duplicate. I crashed hard and there was a moment that I had to wonder if I'd get up again.

Thankfully I did and I have a bit of soreness that has plagued me this entire week. It should be a good reminder this weekend when Green Acres arrives. I will win Green Acres. If I keep saying this will it come true? Likely not, but if there is a race I would will myself to win it is this one. Orange crush will be my diet for the rest of the week. I will crush you.

The weird thing is that sometimes you get to hang out with people that you like.

10 in 11.

Today I'll try to post a recap of things that have happened.

Probably the thing that I'm the most proud of so far is my unexplainable over achievement at Chequamegon. I somehow managed 34th. Don't be fooled, I am still a sub-par cyclist. Sometimes things just work out and you end up doing well.

Cyclocross has also been rolling along in full stride. So far the Tuesday night races have been tough. I race in the 123 race so competition is tough. The Sunday races I've done have been sparsely attended. Luckily though the two that I've done I've felt pretty good and ended a decent second.

Tonight there is a wind whipping against the house that reminds me of so many nights in my youth. Probably my favorite in recent memory is not that long ago. I had a roommate that had a small aluminum boat. He being tough wasn't afraid of a cold October wind. We went out into that cold October wind in his small boat with three others through waves that were overwhelming the bow in the black of night. I remember a state of fear that seemed overwhelming as most of the boat's crew sat on the floor in the pooling water. We made it back to the dock in a boat very drunk on lake water. The next morning I woke up to my roommate yelling in the yard at the site of a sad looking vessel sitting on the bottom of the lake.