That Wasn’t the Plan…

Alpenrose is the first race in the Cross Crusade cyclocross series that the promoters claim is the largest “cross” series on the planet – I have no reason to doubt that.  This would be my first time racing this venue and I was very much looking forward to it as it is generally regarded as the best cross venue in the Northwest.

My preparations were mostly the same as for any other race – it is important for me not to feel rushed, and I didn’t.  I had arrived a couple of hours early and the Mountain View Cycles team had set up a paddock along the course near the wheel pit.  Cross racing is fun in that there are many races during the day and many opportunities to cheer on friends and teammates.

I had completed my checklist in time for the scheduled recon 1 hour before my race.  I could then do 30 minutes of warm-up and get to the staging area with time to secure a reasonable starting position.

I was thinking to myself that there was an unusual amount of hard surface (black top and concrete) on this course, and was slightly concerned about the grip level.  The recon was good for exploring that a bit, and as the course was relatively clean, the grip level seemed pretty good – which is right when everything went wrong.

Approaching a stairway run-up there was some slightly damp dirt in the dismount zone just before a small curb.  Even though I was taking things slowly, I mistimed my get-off.  My left foot didn’t release exactly as I had expected (a result, I think, of being too careful) and I went straight to the ground.

I quickly popped back up to continue the lap but was unable to put much weight on my left foot.  I figured I had simply knocked the wind out of myself and possibly had a groin pull – I just needed to shake it off and do some spinning on the trainer…

Yeah, maybe not so much.  It was stiffening to the point that I couldn’t lift my leg over the seat, so I began hobbling my way back toward the Mountain View compound.  I saw Kristi Dirks and Amy Moody and they informed me that I “didn’t look so good”.  Karl Mikkelson was close by and suggested (brilliantly, as it turns out) that he should go get my car.

I was still pretty sure that it was just a strain and that if I could drive I would make my way toward Seattle (where I was planning to work Monday).  I could depress the clutch with only a small amount of pain so I hit the road.

The up-side is that I would now be able to stop at PIR and watch the final race of the Oregon SCCA Spec Miata championship which had come down to the final race between my friends Will Schrader and Joey Atterbury.  I stopped at the track and was able to get out of my cycling cloths and into something more comfortable.  My leg was feeling better.

It was feeling better until I stopped to stretch about an hour later – it still wouldn’t take much weight.  When I got to my mom and dad’s house, mom had done some research on hip injuries and I was able to see that I didn’t have all of the symptoms of a fracture.  So, I had a snack and a beer and did a little bit more research.  I really don’t like hospitals, and I certainly don’t want to be “that guy” who shows up in the ER with a stubbed toe.

I couldn’t find anything to convince me that I had a strain, sprain or anything besides a fracture, and reading between the lines it was clear that a fracture was better identified immediately.  Mom drove me to Overlake hospital to have it looked at.

It didn’t take long for the x-rays to come back and there was, indeed, a fracture.  The ER doc explained to me that this was the type of thing he wanted the orthopedic surgeon to make the call on – and that the call would very likely be to proceed with surgery tonight.

The surgeon had a very confidence inspiring way about him.  He explained what the issues were and why it was best that we not wait – there can be vascular complications with this type of injury that are best avoided.  I had never spent the night in a hospital before, or broken any bones – I need to do something about my bike handling skills….  But, first things first.

Surgery went off without a hitch, the OR staff and doctors were all awesome.  I must say that it is a surreal experience to be wheeled through an empty hospital and into and under the bright lights of an operating room late on a Sunday evening.  But ,like I said, the surgeon had left me with an excellent first impression and most importantly, my mom (an effective health care advocate) was there to handle decisions that were soon to be outside my capabilities  – here we go…

The anesthesiologist put me on a med that would put me to sleep – he said something about a “slight” burning sensation.  Thankfully, I went down quickly because that stuff burned like heck.

The next thing I knew I was awake – the surgery had taken only half an hour (which I think is a sign of no surprises) and I now had three “deck screws” holding the top of my femur together.

As I write this I sit in my hospital room all jacked-up on caffeine and Percocet (the othopedic surgury equivalent of Red Bull and Vodka) having been through one successful round of physical therapy and waiting for lunch.  If PT goes well this afternoon I may be released to the care of my saintly mother – I don’t just live my life like an irresponsible teenager, I generously share the experience with mom, as well…

I’m thankful for a lot of things right now, not the least of which is that this is the result of my stupid mistake (inattentiveness) and not somebody else’s, and also that I didn’t hurt anybody else in the process.  I’ve always found it easier to accept injuries and crashes when they are the result of my errors and when I didn’t take somebody else with me.

Thank you also to my many cycling friends and teammates for their well wishes and offers of support – I really appreciate it.  I will find a way to positively feed off of this and come back stronger than ever.  I might even be able to be Andrew’s lead out man by April.  That’s my plan and I’m sticking to it this time.

Cross Makes Us Tougher…

I don’t know exactly where this cross thing is going, but I’m pretty sure that it will change me as a bike rider.  I think if I survive it that it will be a change for the better. 

First, I would like to thank the medic in the First Aid tent – he was a really nice guy and spent all the time necessary to pick the many blackberry thorns out of my arms, legs and face.  While he was doing that I had an opportunity to explain to the audience of fascinated young onlookers how important bicycle helmets are – yes, I used up another one this day. 

The race was called the “Battle at Barlow” – Cross races have names, just like the 24 Hours of Lemons races do, that give the impression something magnificent or spectacular will occur, so they must not be missed.  Like almost all of the other races this year will be, it was a first for me.  The unique feature at Barlow is the “run-up” which is a series of maybe ten 2 foot high steps of rail road ties.  I’ll talk about the ride down into the gully that you climb up out of later. 

These guys make it look easier than it seemed at the time…

There was a smaller than usual contingent of the Mt View team at Barlow, but still a group of at least 10 riders.  I had a chance to watch the Masters C race that included teammates Tony Dirks, Eric Moody, and Gregg Leion and then to pre-ride the course (I didn’t pre-ride Double Cross #1 and it cost me – note to self…).  My pre-race preparations had gone precisely to plan – If you’ve heard one of my ridiculous lectures to driving teammates or students about planning, you know how important this is to me… 

Also, this time I didn’t let all of the line-cutters barge their way past me and I successfully secured a front row start position – SWEET!!!  That’s another item off the checklist – now I just need to ride the bike.  Easier said than done…

The first couple of laps went pretty well – I was just riding along battling with a few of my newly found 50+ nemeses and having a grand ole time…  As we worked our way into the back of the Masters B’s passing was uneventful, as most of the course was pretty wide… most. 

Battle at Barlow Photos

To climb out of a ravine, first you must ride into it.  There is a trail that runs downhill along a fence to get us there.  Near the bottom there is a barrier to force us off the bikes so we won’t try to ride down the steepest little bit and into the creek that separates the “down” part from the “up” part.  This is where I had my problem – “battle” if you prefer…

I had passed all but two of a group of 6 riders in a safe area between the start line and the beginning of the drop toward the railroad ties.  This was a trail that follows a fence line to the right and a hill on the left that is easily ride-able in many parts.  The second of the two riders passed the first and I followed (with a voice warning).  I would have preferred the uphill side but the other racer went along the fence line, so it made sense to simply do the same.  As I got to the slower rider he started moving me toward the fence, I was quickly running out of room even though I had given him the “easy” side of the trail.   I was desperately wishing I was over in that comparatively huge space to his left…

On the fast laps I was going 20 mph in this area – I was going 17 when I hit the fence.  Well, really the first thing I hit was a tall wooden pole (think telephone).  Thankfully, I was able to scrub off some speed with my head because the next thing to hit it was my previously separated shoulder, the arm that’s attached to it, my right hand, face, leg, bike, spin around 180 degrees, get the other side scraped up some, and land in a twisted, tangled mess of my bike and “Mr. Bike Skills” in the middle of the trail.  THIS IS FRIGGIN’ AWESOME!!! 

So, after I had led with my head into the pole, the blackberry bushes and chain link had grabbed my bike and a bunch of my skin before letting gravity finish me off by throwing me backward into the same fence and then to the ground.  The up-side is that none of the guys behind us ran me over.  They just yelled that we should get out of the way…  Really..?  Thanks for the tip.

I looked around and saw that the other fellow had his eyes open (WIDE OPEN) and I asked if he was okay…  I simply got a blank stare – similar, I believe, to what I would have seen just before he made contact with me.  I said “on your right” one last time, picked up my stuff and rode toward the railroad tie run-up. 

sometimes bike races are lonely...
sometimes bike races are lonely...

As I climbed the hill the spectators were screaming at me to go harder “IT’S A BIKE RACE NOT A NATURE WALK!!!”  Hey, shut the F*** up, I’m having a moment…   Apparently they hadn’t noticed that the right side of my body looked just like I’d been attacked by a pack of angry elves armed with cheese graters – well, spectators need beer too.

post crash - working back through the field
post crash - working back through the field

I just kept pedaling the bike and focused on staying upright.  As I was able to identify others in my class, I would gain motivation and make progress.  I could see the two guys that had been just behind me when I crashed and put some effort into reaching them.  With one lap to go I was close so I pushed, with success.  As we approached an open area before the long power pulls to the finish I could see another (tuned out to be a lapper) and cleared him with enough of a gap to take some care in the fast pavement sweeper leading into the finish line complex.  I had made it back to 5th – All was well. 

My crash partner was leaving the First Aid tent as I got there.  The medic was sending him to the hospital with a suspected broken collar bone.  I’m not particularly happy about that, but better him than me…  I’ll evaluate how I’ve been choosing my passing zones and maybe make some changes in the future.  I’m torn between the ideas of getting potential problems behind me as quickly as possible and being extra careful.  I’ve seen the “extra careful” thing backfire too many times. 

Hopefully, as I gain experience, the proper balance will come into focus.  On to Alpenrose and the Crusade

Hood River Double Cross

Cyclocross has been a big deal to some of the guys I ride with in Hood River for a long time.  I’ve never completely figured it out, because sometimes it looks like it’s just a way for hopelessly insufferable, wannabe bikey hipsters from Portland to endear themselves to the cycling community…  Thankfully, that’s mostly untrue – many of the guys (and girls) are bad fast and it has always looked like everybody has loads of fun.  So, for years it seems, I would plan to acquire a bike – nothing fancy, just something that would work better than a mountain bike or converted road beater. 

Double Cross Photos

In "cross" time is spent carrying the bike and tripping over obstacles
In "cross" time is spent carrying the bike and tripping over obstacles

Last year, I finally pulled the trigger – which means that I had a bike by the time the season was about half over.  This is a “cross” tradition born either from the reality that bike shops don’t want to stock a bunch of “weird” bike stuff that will be useless by the time Christmas rolls around (and until September of the next year), or a massive conspiracy to prove “you’re not cool enough”.  Your bike will be here next week, er September, I mean mid October… 

Anyway, the bike showed up and I figured that since the guys I ride on the road with are racing in the Masters B category (the equivalent of Cat 3 on the road), that I should do the same.  WRONG.  First, if you start at the back (there is another conspiracy to guarantee this), you will likely stay there.  The courses can be quite technical which is problematic for a guy that doesn’t spend much time on a mountain bike anymore – that means passing is hard.  I struggled to get into the middle third of the pack.  I sucked. 

It seems there were always 100 guys in the races.  And, the line-up is done by lottery based on the last digit of your race number – my number was never in the top half of the guys that started at the back half of the race.  I have come to believe that this is because I was new and cyclocross has another special math based conspiracy to determine these things.  I was definitely going to need a new plan for this year. 

Each cross event has about 90 different races split up by different combinations of age, experience and sex (there are no fewer than three of those, as near as I can tell).  There is always somebody (something) to race with and I would like to do well, but I really don’t want to be a sandbagger (those that race a category easier so they can win the beer prizes which are based on more “randomly” generated combinations of numbers).  

This year, even though I’m 49, I can race as a 50 year old (another tricky numbers thing – but it says so on my racing license).  They have a geezer class in cross that starts at 50.  Surely, there would be fewer age 50 plus riders, so starting at the back wouldn’t be as far back, and since its age based – no sandbagging… The only problem is that, like road racing, there exists the possibility of x-pros in the field (or guys that are just plain fast).  But hey, if I can be the “new kid”, I’m going to check it out – and how many fast guys that age could there be, anyway..? 

"Team Dirks" debrief
"Team Dirks" debrief

Double Cross in Hood River is when the Mountain View team starts it’s cross season.  Pretty much everybody gets involved, including the kids which is super fun.  This would be my first time doing these races, which is hard to believe given how long I’ve been riding bicycles.  Day one would be at the High School and day two would be at the Hood River County Fairgrounds in Odell. 

“Masters 50” races along with “Masters B” (age 35+, where I raced last year), so comparisons between the two would be easy and I would still kind of get to race with my buddies.  We started one minute behind the B’s (about 35 of them, 25 of us) and it was clear while waiting for the start that a few of the old guys were going to make it through a lot of the B field.  The High School course is kind of wide and / or grassy in a lot of places, so passing wouldn’t be a huge issue and the start was easier than I expected. 

I settled into a top 10 position early and just rode my heart rate for the first couple of laps.  Now, I have issues running in the red zone – I don’t like it.  It’s probably that I’m lazy – I just don’t have a very high “suffering index”.  In cross, however, red zone is what it’s all about – go till you blow.  I ended up in a race with two other guys (two of us chasing the other with a gap that varied between about 1 and 10 seconds). 

I had backed off a bit with 3 laps to go with the idea that I could deliver a big, demoralizing and crushing blow to the others at the beginning of the last lap.  My heart rate was low in zone 5 and if the other guys were redlined (like I expected they were), I would win the mini “race within a race”.  As we crossed start / finish at the beginning of the last lap, the scorer shouted out “you’re done” – WTF?  I had made a stupid rookie mistake and didn’t see that the lap board had gone from 2 to zero as we approached the line – the guy that had been following me for two laps did see it and put a wheel on me at the finish.  There’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t make that kind of mistake – well, except this time…  F*** me.  I was ninth. 

racing round the rabbit barn
racing round the rabbit barn

I figured the Fairgrounds course wouldn’t suit me because it was less technical.  As it turns out, even though my bike handling skills are in the toilet lately, I am blessed with good line selection capabilities so that even when my bike doesn’t go exactly where I wanted it to it is still close to being “on line”.   Being on line makes it possible to start pedaling earlier when exiting corners (the same principal that applies to cars) – this is important on a “non-technical” course like Sunday’s because it had lots of “easy” turns. 

As we were staging for the race there was a line of guys in the front row and I parked my bike behind them.  Minutes passed and occasionally somebody would push through to the front – a couple of guys simply went around and backed into the front of the line-up.  I thought these guys are being awfully aggressive for a bunch of old f***ers – some of them are going to beat me, but not all of them.  There is something about the protocol that I don’t get.

Then as we rolled up to stage I found myself in the back row – I’m really not very good at this.  Several of the guys were suggesting that we take it easy until we get to the grass – we’re all here “to have fun” I think is how it goes…  I had already made one rookie mistake this weekend so screw that.  Besides, I think it would be more “fun” to be nearer the pointy end.  The way I see it these guys had started racing when they forced their way to the front – once we “switch on”, it’s on…

I was able to make it around most of the line barging hipsters by the end of the long start straight and a few more as we went through the first barriers.  When things settled down I was in the top 10 which I was comfortable with.  My decent late corner acceleration was making it possible for me to stay close to the fast guys at the start of the race.  I was worried that my legs would be tired from Saturday’s 45 minute effort in the red zone, but I felt better than expected.  I don’t think cross’ effect on the body is as much like road racing’s non-stop prolonged efforts as I expected it would be.  But still, I need to do a lot of work before I can stay with those top 4 or 5 guys.

Eric Moody (E2) blasting up the inside
Eric Moody (E2) blasting up the inside

Like Saturday, I had a really fun race with a few other guys on Sunday.  There were always three of us within a few seconds.  Mid-way through the race I felt the rear tire briefly roll off the rim (I’m still riding clinchers which do that at the lower pressures used in cross).  I was convinced I wouldn’t make it to the end of the race as it felt like the tire was going flat.  I checked it a couple of times and it seemed that it hadn’t lost all of its air so I was able to ride carefully to a sixth place finish.  At the finish line it was totally flat – better lucky than good.

Cross is fun and it has been good for my fitness – its forcing me to run in the red zone for prolonged periods which is exactly the kind of training I’ve been missing (that laziness thing again).  I’ve also successfully kept the bike from hitting the ground after loosing traction several times which is good for my bike handling confidence.  Afterward everybody gets beer and French fries.  How cool is that? 

This cross thing is growing on me.

p.s. Cross races are also fun to watch on fall weekends – that’s how I originally got suckered in.  In Portland, Cross Crusade is the big deal.

Vista Ridge Ride

cross here or ride back over the big hill
cross here or ride back over the big hill

A couple of years ago, a big fall storm / flood destroyed several bridges on Oregon Hwys 35 and 26 making it impossible to reach the Mt. Hood Meadows Ski Area for several weeks.  During the same storm, the bridge that crosses the Hood River just west of Parkdale (the middle fork, I think) was lost, as well.

In order to use the route that crosses over Vista Ridge to Red Hill Road between Lolo Pass Road and Parkdale, it is necessary to cross the river.  There are no homes west of the river, so nobody knows (or cares particularly) when the road will open again.  But, it is kind of a cool ride and we’ve all ridden it many times as it was previously part of the Road Race Course for the Mt. Hood Cycling Classic.

some did it the hard way
some did it the hard way

Eric Sletmoe had crossed the river recently from the Parkdale side and was able to persuade the rest of us that it would be a good route for the Saturday morning Hood River Group Ride that leaves from Ground Coffee Shop at 8am.  Lara had made the portage, as well, and 8 o’clock is too early to argue about stuff like this, anyway…   

The ride is pretty incredible, as it uses a lot of National Forest Service road that pretty much goes to “nowhere”.  The tricky part is that around here “nowhere” is usually “up there somewhere”, so there’s going to be some climbing.

I haven’t totally figured out the NFS road labeling system, but I think it’s something like this – 2 digit numbers are paved, 4 digit numbers are spurs of 2 digit numbers and if they end with a zero, they are kind of paved.  Avoid the odd numbered 4 digit variety – we did some four digits with zeros – they were just fine.

watering hole in Parkdale
watering hole in Parkdale

In any case, we made it safely on pretty good roads, and since we crossed the river relatively early in the day the water level was pretty low.  Most of us took our shoes off so that we could walk across the temporary “bridges” that had been made and our feet never even got wet.

We stopped at The Taqueria for some burritos afterward and it all made for a pretty good day.

Map

Roadies vs. Fixies

Joey Atterbury - still cooler than all the fixie pilots
Joey Atterbury - still cooler than all the fixie pilots

I had a conversation with my friend Joey, (a very fast, young, hipster, VW Jetta Cup driver) at the race track Saturday, about bicycles – he was sitting on his retro beach cruiser / pit bike while giving me the business about riding a real bike. Whatever.

He wants a fixie – while he is cooler than roughly 100 percent of the guys I’ve met that do ride them, I told him that I still hadn’t seen the guy that is genuinely cool enough to do so… 

The thing is (using simple observation as our guide) that it’s just too tough to ride a fixie without looking like a complete tool.  Not only do you need just the right amount of “hip” you need the right kind.  Here’s an analogy – Wayne Newton. Wayne Newton is the only guy that doesn’t look like an idiot when singing Danke Shoene – fixies are the Danke Shoene of bicycles.

This video pretty well encapsulates that discussion…

Cascade Stage Race

Late Thursday afternoon, shortly after arriving in Bend,  the team I was guest riding with received a phone call informing them that one of their riding friends, Daryl Benefiel, had been killed by a car while doing hill repeats on Newport Coast in Orange County.  Daryl was one of the good guys.  RIP, Papa John’s.

Some don’t see us, some don’t care.  Be vigilant. 

 

Well, from a racing standpoint, this was also a pretty tough weekend.  I knew ahead of time that it was going to be  hard, but some things changed after I had entered to complicate things a bit.

The original (sensible) plan was to race with my brother-in-law, Joe Kolling, and his Cycles Veloce / Simple Green team mates in the mixed Cat 3 /4 field.  I now ride (and race) with all of these guys 30 – 40 days each winter.   I was really looking forward to riding with them near home, for a change.  Joe and I are both 4’s and Steve Bernede and Russ Shapley are both 3’s – so we could race as a team.  It was a great idea until the organizers of the race decided that they would split our race into separate  Cat 3 and Cat 4 fields.  We were also joined by a friend of a friend, Steve Pascoe.  Since we already had a Steve, we called him Arkansas – because that’s where he’s from…   Could have been worse, I reckon – he could have been from Sioux Falls.

Against my better judgement, Joe talked me into calling Chad Sperry, the Race Director, to have him switch us all to the Masters 35+ / 45+ field so that we could “race” together.  Chad told me the split had been made partly because the Cat 3 guys didn’t want to race with those crappy Cat 4 guys.  Just an observation, having now been briefly to the other side – most of you Cat 3 guys ain’t shit…  The rest of you need to move on.

As bike racing is a long term project for me – it’s all about lots of miles and experience at this point.  So, I had to look at the less than ideal situation I was facing and treat it as one of those experiences – one that would make me stronger on another day sometime in the future…  Some guys are still very, very fast as they get “old”, but I’m still mostly just old.  My job was first to finish, and second to see how small an amount of time I could loose.  …this is going to suck.

The Race:

The first stage was a 71 mile road race that started with a potentially problematic 3 mile climb and ended with roughly 25 miles of climbs connected by shallow grades and finishing at Mt. Bachelor Ski Area.  I came off when the final climbing started – and when I say “came off” I mean that I freaking blew up!!!  I made it, though, and afterward experienced my first ice bath.  You really should try the ice bath – pain has a whole new meaning for me now.  If it had been government sponsored it would be classified as torture and there would be Senate Hearings, and everybody could point fingers.  Heads would roll, sort of…  Bike racing as we know it would end.

Anyway, I survived the time trial by riding very slowly while not thinking too much about that afternoon’s criterium.  Afterward, instead of an ice bath (which I believe helped, by the way), we drove the Stage 4 (Sunday) circuit race course.  Well, at least the severity of the course would take my mind off of the criterium.   …this is going to suck.

We were informed before the criterium started that there was a problem with scoring, and that to keep things fair to the GC contenders the crit would not count.  Really?  It didn’t make any difference to me, but for God’s sake, we came to race.  Well, it turned out that nobody was dissuaded too much.  The speed of the race (until my brilliantly timed attacked off the back) never fell below a 30 mph average…  That’s just a wee bit too quick for me – wish I was racing with the 3’s…  But hey, I’ve still got all my skin.  I hate crits.

The circuit race had the potential to be absolutely brutal – rolling with some short power climbs.  It is an attacking course, and it would start early.  I figured that there would be a fair number of retirements and that if I could finish (not a slam dunk at this point), I would move up in the GC.  My plan was to ride with the peloton until the pace required more than 30 seconds effort above my lactic threshold (about 20 minutes it turns out), at which time I would try to find a group to finish the race with.

I came off at the end of the sustained climb that contained the feed zone – attack!!!  Yup, 10 miles into a 67 mile race and I was going solo.  As it happened, however, I wasn’t the first guy out, and the group was shattering in front of me, as well.  I quickly became one of a dozen riders that was moving along quite nicely.

There were six ahead of us which added some motivation to include them in our fun.  As we gathered them up, I saw Arkansas.  We had made an agreement to have our own little group ride when the inevitable happened – I thanked him for waiting for me. 

Then I noticed Steve and Joe – this wasn’t a group ride anymore, it was a team ride…  Surely, we could have some fun with 4 guys in a group of 20.

I knew that Steve and Joe would attack on the final very steep (16-20 percent) climb about 5 K from the finish – that’s just the way they are.  Joe, however,  had been hit by a car while riding near home a few weeks ago and his knee had been giving him some grief.  That all came to a head when it was time to go – he had only one leg to work with.   Steve, as predicted, jumped off the front followed by two others.  I chased, and the four of us blasted into the rollers that preceded the run to the finish.  We were joined by three others as the final attacks started.

Steve was first to finish, beating two others in a final sprint.  A few seconds back, I was out sprinted by one of the three I had lead to the line.  I had finished, though, which I wasn’t sure would be possible as the day started.

I’ll go back to where I belong (with the Cat 4’s) and continue to work toward a triumphant return – imagine a PT boat leaving Corregidor with a bicycle strapped to the bow…

Bicycles are Cool

1964 Schwinn Typhoon
1964 Schwinn Typhoon

This story reminds me of the time a friend’s father had gone out to play a round of golf and was asked if another player could join his group. He was a pretty buttoned down business guy and ended up playing 18 holes with Alice Cooper…

The other day I was doing some work for a regular customer and Nicholas, one the guys that does grounds keeping and other jobs around the business, stopped to take time and inspect my bicycle.  My car, with all of my work tools, was attached to the bottom of it.

I don’t talk to this fellow often, other than to say hello, mostly because he isn’t very confident in his english and prefers to simply go about his work. But, when it comes to bicycles I learned, he is far less reluctant.

Now, this guy doesn’t really look like a typical cyclist (who does?), and as he was clearly interested in my bike, I asked if he rides. He beamed and said “yes, yes,”. His was stored in an adjacent room and he was off to get it so that he could show it to me.

Nicholas and his Schwinn Le Tour 12.2
Nicholas and his Schwinn Le Tour 12.2

It turns out that he is the very proud owner of a Schwinn Le Tour 12.2. This is a bike that I desperately wanted when I was new to road bikes (the first time, as a teenager). It seemed that the choices back then were Peugeot, Motobecane and Schwinn – that was it.   It was a pretty safe bet that the French stuff was crap (don’t start – I’ve owned a French car and consider myself well versed and on solid footing regarding French junk)…  The Le Tour was the bad ass Schwinn –  my first bike was a red Schwinn Typhoon.  So, I was a Schwinn guy.

The Le Tour is a cool old bike, and this one is in pretty nice shape. It has a lugged chromoly frame (that is chrome, in this case) and even has one of what must be an original gum wall tire.

Alice Cooper with 3 Wood
Alice Cooper with 3 Wood

Anyway, it is always interesting and fun to find something in common with somebody new. Bicycles do that, and  is another reason that bikes are cool.  I’m not sure which one of us was Alice Cooper, though.

Alonso – Contador Alliance

Here is more proof that car racing and bike racing have a boat load in
common. 

Alberto Contador and Fernando Alonso
Alberto Contador and Fernando Alonso

Story

Just as Fernando Alonso did his best to mess up his own team’s chances at a world title when he was with McLaren, Contador seems set to slip into the same trap at Le Tour de France – and with Alonso’s help, no less.

Alonso  is a savvy cat, but he is all about Alonso.  Alberto beware…

Trek Bicycle Company Rocks

Racing bicycles, like racing cars, are loaded with compromises – compromise eventually leads to failure. Given time, we all have the opportunity to ask the company that built the one we ride to correct a problem. This happened to me recently.

Trek did some pretty innovative things with the version of the Madone that they introduced for 2008 – they are gorgeous. I’ve been riding one since the summer of 2007 and a few months ago a small noise started coming from the area of the bottom bracket. I don’t think I’ve ever owned a bicycle that didn’t sometimes make noise from that part.

The Madone is unique, however, in that the bearings press directly into the machined carbon junction of the down, seat and chain tubes (much like the bearings in the rear hub of an automobile). It’s really wide there allowing for a bike that is very stiff laterally. Anyway, this was the first time (that I am aware) that this method of construction has been used in bicycle manufacture and it wasn’t quite perfect – this is where the noise and small amount of movement was coming from.

After exploring another possible fix, Trek replaced the frame – even going to some trouble to get me a color that I preferred (I’m an aspiring stylista, and things like that are important…).

Trek Madone (version 2) at Mount Hood Cycling Classic
Trek Madone (version 2) at Mount Hood Cycling Classic

My friend Brad Urban, at Mountain View Cycles, transferred the parts on the day the new frame arrived and I had what was essentially a new bicycle.

While cleaning the bicycle before a ride (it’s white, so the dirt from one ride is noticeable) I discovered a fault in the top tube. A quick call to Trek and a new frame was on its way. Only two days passed and Brad had again rebuilt the bicycle (staying late on a Friday, so that I could have it for the Saturday morning group ride).

I may be in karma debt from all of the nice treatment I received to correct what could have been a very aggravating problem. Patience isn’t really one my strong suits and it was hardly tested – thank you, God…

$#*% happens and Trek got it handled. That’s good. Thanks guys.

Mount Hood Cycling Classic

The saying on one of the t-shirts the volunteers were wearing said something like “It’s not about strategy, it’s about survival”.  Fair enough, but in my book survival is a strategy, and success will be determined by the tactics you’ve chosen to get there.

The short version is that I believe I maximized my result through some pretty good tactical decision making.  I made an error in the criterium that I’ll beat myself up over for a while, but I was in the sprint for the win (a rarity) and managed 10th, placing me 17th overall in the General Classification.

MHCC is a great race and the final stage happens literally down the street from my house (8 blocks to be exact – I couldn’t park much closer).  I guess location is important for the same reasons that it’s a big deal for somebody from Indiana t0 compete in the Indy 500.  It’s just part of our culture here and it is an immense privilege to participate.

There were a relatively large number of local riders participating.  I had four Mountain View teammates in the Cat 4 Men field (Karl Mikkelson, Tony Dirks, Eric Moody and John Kenney).  Lara signed up at the last minute with

Albert Gonzalez in the Prologue
Albert Gonzalez in the Prologue

a few of the other girls to ride in the Cat 3-4 Women race and there were a few locals in the Masters field, and my friend Albert Gonzales came up from Southern California and rode the Pro 1-2 field in the Mountain View kit and finishing 4th in the crit field sprint (44th on GC).

Highlights were Lara’s road race, on Saturday, which was 72 miles with 8,500 feet of climbing and she killed it – finishing 11th ahead of all but a few Cat 3’s, and our friend Andy Olsson (riding in a mountain biking costume) was fourth in the road race.  We were well supported by the team members that weren’t riding the race for a variety of excuses that included only one good reason…

Anyhow, for Cat 4 Men this race is brutal.  It’s close to 200 miles over 4 days

Me and 3 Mt View team mates in the crit
Me and 3 Mt View team mates in the crit

with about 18,000 feet of climbing, and an extremely “interesting” criterium course in downtown Hood River. Course Overview

I’ll write more about the race later, as I’m off to the race shop now to prepare the Miatacage.com Spec Miata for the Portland Rose Cup Races this weekend.  If all goes well today and tomorrow I may register for the Elkhorn Classic Stage Race in Baker City, Oregon the next weekend.  That would be 3 weekends of racing in a row…  How often will an opportunity like that present itself?

First things first.