Long Beach Grand Prix

***All pics of race removed. I used them without the photographer's permission and received an email to not do so.***

Ok...A little late. Got a couple emails
from people who had just found this
pathetic ragged peice of a blog; and actually asked me to continue it. My pleasure actually, since it was originally a way to inform me dear mum and sis of the race happenings hear in Socal. Thanks to a guy named Tony I have anew found enthusiasm to do so. I should be picking up the racing soon so there will be more to write about.


At the start of the race I began warming up around the city. The race was right in the middle of downtown Long Beach, near the aquarium and theatre. I hopped on the steed and gently rolled over the train tracks, breathing in the cool, salty ocean breeze. The air had a small hint of the oil rigs which reminded me of the many hours I spent on the Long Beach shoreline as a child; body surfing and watching sting rays swim while snorkeling. Yet here I was, about elbow it out with a bunch of other nimrods in a 6 corner crit race. **Sigh.**



See the first pic? I'm watching a Cat2 go up the road right from the gun. This being a Fire/Military/Police race, there were varied degrees of talent in the field. A Swami's team rider who happened to be from which service I still don't know, shot up the course and had a 15 second gap within two laps. I proceeded to chase. I then noticed I chasing alone. I repeatedly waived my Firefighter, Soldier, and Officer bretheren through with abosolutely no response.




Everytime I would pull off to let someone take the wind and pull the group, the pack would all sit up behind me. I then noticed that much of the pack was already hurting, which was not good since I had been pulling at MAYBE 25 per. It was about then that a second Cat2 rider attacked and bridged up to the leader. I had ignorantly been pulling into the wind and didn't have the real estate to respond. Now there were two very fast riders ahead and a pack full of fodder that I was still pulling along. I soon tired of this, and peeled off the front. I figured if I was going to do all the work, I was not going to cradle 45 other adults around the course.

I dropped one more cog and said goodbye to the field, now setting my sights on the two mutants up the road spanking themselves.

This sounded like a great idea until I realized what I was trying to do. A Cat3 chasing two very strong Cat2's who were working together flawlessly. The futility of this began to sink in as I slowly realized I was going into oxygen debt. I know my body enough to know my HR was prolly about 185 or so. This meant the fuel tank was slowly going down. I could hang on at this effort for the remainder of the crit, but any faster and it would have been a severe detonation.

About this time tall, lanky creature bridged up to me from the group. It happened to be a nice fellow from Irvine PD, and also happened to be the winner of this very event the previous year.


The gentleman was unable to help too much as he had burned most of his matches while making the bridge to myself, bless his heart.We worked together. Well, somewhat. I pulled into the headwinds everytime, and he the tailwinds. Which means he didn't do all that much work. Thats ok, though, he did his best.

One lap to go and we no longer can see the two leaders. The only positive thing about the situation now is we cannot see the field behind is either. So at least I am gauranteed a fourth place even if all goes wrong. I waive my partner through and he tells me "I'm done, go ahead you're going to win."

Now, translate this any way you want, but to most reasonable people this sounds like he just gave me the third place. His tone was anything but sneaky-like, so I figured him for as good samaritan and thought he was gifting me the podi, seeing as my face was in the wind for him about 90% of the time. As we come around the last turn my compatriot begins sprinting past me. WTF?!?! This guy sucks wheel the entire last lap and thinks he's going to zip on by without a hitch. Daddy don't think so, and I promptly spanked him for trying to do so, taking 3rd.

Normally I would be happy to be on the podium, a third spot in any bike race is good fortune. However, today was different. Had I simply made the move with the two up front I could have possibly taken home the Vee. Above you can see Eddy Van Guyse who played the villian cyclist in "American Flyers." Super nice guy. All I was trying to do was collect my gobs of cash for coming in 3rd, $80 to be exact. Next thing I know I was being interviewed. Scooping a big piece of humble pie in, you can visibly note the "aww shucks" look my face. "Really sir, it was nothing." Inside I was thinking of course how much my legs hurt after drilling across the pavement at 26 mph for 30 min. There's always next year.

IES

Mt Baldy Ski Lift Ride-Epic, or just hard?

Fueled mostly in part by Josh Webster, and not wanting to be dropped in road races next year, the Sprinter heads for the hills. Most riders in the IE tend to head towards Baldy Village via Glendora Ridge Road, which offers a much more gentlemanly grade towards said village. The steeper and more painful option is to traverse directly up the face of Baldy Road; which in fact is the story for today. The more the Sprinter climbs Baldy Road and the ski lift switchbacks, the more he becomes skeptical of the claims of others. Many self-proclaimed “hardcore cyclists” spin tales of climbing to the ski lifts as the Sprinter watches them struggle up grades one-third the difficulty of the mentioned switchbacks. Forcing to the Sprinter to call bullshit where needed, seeing as though hundreds of cyclists claim to ride to the lifts yet on a beautiful Sunday the Sprinter sees but four total humans on bicycles. Seeing as though there is only one way there and back, the chances of missing all of these hardcore studs is unlikely. Back to Josh Webster. This one:

Josh Webster; current 35+ state road race champion, leader of a small group of children of the corn, a grammar Nazi, and a damn fine citizen, (for a developing Homo Erectus of course.) Josh is someone the Sprinter respects and admires from many standpoints. From his dedication on the bike as well as his character out of the saddle. It is mostly Josh which motivates the Sprinter to climb this mountain today. First, because the Sprinter was unable to rendezvous for a ride with Josh, and second, the Sprinter wants Josh to know he suffered like a dog without the calculated hurt that he would surely have put on the fat sprinter. When I mention to an average person that I am too fat to race with Cat 1's and 2's I get the customary look of disgust. Mostly because they are much fatter than I am. Josh however, pulls no punches. Last weekend whilst climbing with Josh the Sprinter begins to plan his racing future.

The Sprinter does NOT want more than he actually wants. For example, the Sprinter WANTS to upgrade to Cat 2 so he may ride in the service of Josh and other SC Velo Tribal Elders/pro studs. The Sprinter does NOT want a free ride. He does not want free wheels, races, kits, or Gu's. The Sprinter will not upgrade to Cat 2 and five minutes later ask Josh how many free bikes he gets. The Sprinter does not want to demand goods and services from club sponsors and/or bike shop owners. The Sprinter does not want to email club presidents and ask for team spots.

The sprinter rides on: Here is the route:

Admittedly, it doesn’t look very hard on a map. The road lacks switchbacks during the beginning making it appear to be flat or easy. It’s a 22.3 miles to the lifts from home. Again, not very impressive by the numbers if you are talking distance; but let’s take a look at the ride a little closer. Straight up Euclid through Ontario and Upland it’s a mild 2-3% until you reach San Antonio Heights. A quick stop at the fire station for water and the climbing starts.

At the top of what is called Shin Loop, is where majority of the people stop their ride and go home. There is a 3000 foot elevation sign which oddly enough is off by several hundred feet. The Garmin registers a scant 2600 feet at this point.


Now the fun begins. A right hand turn onto Baldy road and it’s 11% for small bit and then back down to 7%. Now, Baldy Road has been compared to Alp D’Huez due to its average gradient. But how accurate is average gradient? As a hefty sprinter it seems absolutely retarded. Both Baldy and Alp D’Huez register at around 8% average. Now if you are a cyclist and want to try a new ride and someone tells you the ride averages 8%, you would be thinking 8%; not 6% in some areas and 17% in others. But that’s what Baldy is. It’s easy in some parts and then steeper than shit in the others. The second part of the climb isn't too bad, some up and down areas and the two tunnels, which are about 8-9%. The last mile from the second tunnel to the Baldy Ranch sign are in my opinion one of the hardest parts of the whole ride. It's a good 11-12% the while way, which unless you are a little 140lb mountain goat, makes for a long mile.



No time for church, the sprinter has prayer of his own to do; prayer to the pain cave.

After the sign there is a small 8% uptick to the village which comes down to 5% as you come into town. The post office is the usual watering hole where one can grab a snack and some liquid.

Tired of Gu's and Bars? Then do what Jeremiah Wiscovitch does; go to Costco and get yourself a 79lb box of Uncrustables. Wisco claims he can finish the entire Redlands Stage Race on one Uncrustable, so it's gotta work. By no means gourmet; but on a ride like this it tastes like heaven in plastic wrap. Chef's note: No need to thaw the sammiches simply throw them in your jersey pocket they will be nice and chilly by the time you eat them.

Now that the Sprinter is full of PB & J goodness, time to head to the lifts. There is a short climb of 7-8% out of the village, then the switchbacks finally hit. From above:

And Below:

Halfway up the switchies and the Sprinter is now thinking this was a dumb idea. This area is fairly steep, and the turns are about 15%. It's Sunday, God's ordered day of rest, as per. If this is so then why are there so many men who ride like suffering fools EVERY Sunday? Are they unGodly, or just gluttons for punishment? The Sprinter does not fear the wrath of the God at this moment. In fact, at this particular moment of labored breathing and acid filled legs, the Sprinter's fears are minimal. He does not fear violent switchbacks, sharp descents, and rocky cliffs. He does not fear motorcycles, forestry trucks, or over-medicated housewives in large SUV's. He does not fear bears, goats, coyotes, or timber wolves. He does not fear Mountain Lions knowing that the SC Velo hunters are lying in wait in the bush clad in Ghillie suits with lion-seeking missile launchers. He does not fear killer bees, falling rocks, or angry men in Mini-Coopers. In fact, there are only two things the Sprinter fears at this moment: Circus midgets and Josh Webster. At 5000 feet we're getting somewhere now:


Last switchback, and the Sprinter is on the final stretch. A small respite and a quick downhill before the hardest part. The nice 60 degree weather down in Chino is now 26 degrees and gusty. The Sprinter has forgotten his gloves on mountain rides enough and will not be fooled by that bitch elevation any more.

The Sprinter can suffer if needed. But he has no problem admitting near defeat. Grinding up this 15% section into a headwind was brutal. The 25 cog felt like a 19, and the pedals were not frisky in the least. But there is no way the Sprinter comes this far and stops. Up to the ski lift sign and the climbing is done.

The numbers:

Final Elevation: 6200 feet

Total climbing: 5300 feet

Miles: 44.6

Will the Webster respect me more for riding to the lifts? I don't think so. But the fact I left half a lung and parts of my Aorta on Baldy Road might count for something.

GMR to Baldy Village Ride 10/10/2009

The Girl and I hit GMR to Baldy Village from Chino. 55 miles, 4 hours 23 min on the bike, 4600 feet of climbing, and a damn fine day.

Portland Oregon; Back in the Promise Land

Portland, Oregon. Gem of the northwest. Beautiful countryside aplenty. Reusable shopping bags, 55mph freeway limits, tall blond mommies, Obama/Putin 2012 signs, legal pot farms, friendly hellos, hippies, and a damn fine set of bridges; as per.


Upon retiring (at the earliest hour possible) the self will promptly be gathering up his family and U-haling them to the promise land; forgoing the stop in beautiful Bakersfield, Sac-town, or Redding. For to live in Oregon is to enjoy life’s most savory atmosphere. Why sure, the property tax is a mild 87.6% and it rains 364 days a year, but there are other perks. No state tax, $2 car registration, fine cheeses and breads, college lab grown reefer; not to mention skiing, fishing, cycling, and a nifty tram which takes you from the fixie surrounded Borders Books on the river to the university at the top.


Instead of chancing the bike case rental from his local shop, plus the $900 airline fee for transporting a bicycle, son of the OC/IE yours truly decided to rent a bike from the local shop in Lake Oswego. Nice lads down there in Beverly Oswego, they are; renting the self a Cannondale for $30 a day, which was well worth the cost over a three day period when compared to the formerly listed option of self-transport. Mostly, it was worth it simply because the self could not sit inside all day in this beautiful garden of Eden and not hit the pavement.



The rented sled:
2006 Caad 8



Let’s take a look around the components shall we.

Aluminum Frame, Size 54. No 56 was available. Thanks to the boys at the Velonews forum who talked me out of getting a 54 next year as the bike was entirely too small.



The shop had a Fizik Arione test model which I swapped for the no name brand seat on the bike.



Which came complete with 1981 Bianchi seatpost.




FSA Carbon compact cranks, Shimano Ultegra throughout.



Bitchin anodized cages.



And of course, the requisite Fred stem, at a cool 35 degree upswing.




Now the Sprinter is pumped. Who needs carbon fiber, GPS computers, and 7900? Who needs heart rate monitors, $1100 wheels, and hologram cranks? As Max Kash Agro always said, “gritty not pritty.”© The self does not want a speedometer, this way he will have an excuse for the Clackamas County Deputy when he breaks the speed limit on the flats. Time to get back to base, time to enjoy the ride, time to HAMMER. No thinking, no wishing, no wanting, no hoping. There is no HOPE; only a government run free market economy and cash for clunkers. No need for a death panel anyway, the Sprinter will die young and die pritty. That’s the mantra. No Gnosticism, Sadducees, reincarnation, or spontaneous combustion. This is the final act. Enjoy it, it will be over soon. There will be no clapping, no encore, no after party with cocktails and weenies. The Sprinter is a speck on the timeline, but today the timeline gets blown up. 10 seconds to clip in. 10 seconds to launch. 10 seconds to blast off, up and over the forests of Oregon. We are going to make an Instant Rocket in class today kids. Just add Wattage. No need for milk, eggs, flour, or sugar; on account the Self is sweet enough already.

Rant over; enjoy the pics of the beautiful place I was so lucky to ride in.

Hoffman Road, SW Wilsonville:



Huge momma Mantis on the road:



Picked her up and put her in the bushes so she wouldn’t get run over:



Pete’s Mountain Road, 19%:



Top of the valley, Mt Hood not clearly visible due to some fires in the area:



Pumpkin Patch at the bottom of Turner:




Forest area of Turner Rd, 10% grade:




Ride over, legs pumped, soul cleansed.

Steep Hills, Red Flags, and Asshole Arsonists

Thursday morning, Inland Empire; the 909 is surrounded by life taking, property consuming brush fires greedily lapping up everything in sight. Percentage of containment, low 20's; cause of fires; no doubt a filthy, disgusting, scabies-infested piece of parasite trash. (Read: HUMAN.)

The self is overwhelmed with the world. The communist leader preparing to address the "children," deficit in full swing, personal finance future unknown. Time to get away, to make it all simple again. Time to bow to the holy trinity of heart, lung and muscle against gravity. The trio which lets us know we are mortal if not human. The self calls the boss, taking the day off. Why? Well, partly because the self doesn't want to drive 30 miles somewhere he dosen't want to be, but mostly because it's hammer time. A glance at the Garmin cockpit confirms this feeling.





The local liberal controlled/paid weatherman proclaims a "RED FLAG" warning. Stay inside! Lock your doors! Don't breathe! People of Southern California duly warned and lovingly protected.

Red Flags!?! I eat red flags for breakfast! Don't think so? Look!



Red Flags=Red Tape. Bust through! If the self was a lemming he would be kicking back watching his bretheren walk off the cliff. If you're not leading you're following. Don't want to think about what's going on in the world, just want to blast off, just want to hammer, just want to feel the acid fill the legs; lactic/lactate, and perhaps even lactaid. It's on, off to Chino Hills I go looking for the steepies. I casually roll westbound down Chino Av up by the theatres and to Chino Hills pkwy. Feeling good...The self goes to the steepist climb in Chino hills, an undisclosed road where masters studs such as Chris Demarchi perform countless intervals to let off steam and prepare to hammer the family men racers.

The road, 13% grade for 1/2 mile. It's a LONG 1/2 mile. Takes 4 minutes on this day. The self's blood organ quickley jumps to 180 bpm. It stays there. At the top the self feels vindicated, even soothed. Until of course, I see this at the top of the hill:



Well....I guess it does..Since, THIS is what it should look like:




A HUGE thank you to humans. Although this rant may seem conservative, the self is VERY liberal when it comes to planet earth, animals, and our environment. A random thought:

I fervently wish I did not live in this era. Make me a caveman if you have to. I am through with the fast life. It's old. I could live on a ranch growing my own food and slaughtering my own cows. If it meant no smog, trash, and most of all; people. Sure I love my internet; sure I love my blackberry, sure I love my 15lb bike; but I would give it up in an instant.

So in the end, the ride clears the head, but muddles it at the same time.

Cheers

LAX Circuit Race

The LAX Circuit Race; too far, too loud, ridikilously boring. The Sprinter; (as defined by the title) does not care for surges. He does not care for “yo-yoing,” about in a criterium with the assorted pack fodder, Freds, and other such Sprinter-Food which sign up (and provide excellent wind coverage) for the closers in the group. It should be noted; before the Sprinter is called out by the entire Socal cycling community that this season he has been; with reservation and much denial, said pack fodder. Relax I say! I’m just getting my racing legs back, (cycling excuse #326.)

It is for this reason the Sprinter does not like crits and circuit races because of the waiting. The Sprinter, as odd as it seems, would rather suffer off the back in a road race than sit in and yawn until the lap cards arrive. Alas, we can’t all have slow twitch fibers allowing for long sessions of hammering; some of us are two-pump chumps, cursed from the womb. Jesus presided; stating one by one as each Sprinter popped into the world. “Rise, little sprinters,” He said. “Go forth and hammer, but only from 300 meters out, for this is all the “get-up-and-go” I have provided for you my children.”

(Paul – 53:11)

Well, thank ya very much, being “snappy” and fast means zero if you aren’t there to enjoy and show off your God-given, fast twitch fibers.
Off the digression. Could the race be any farther? Not really. 60 to the 605 to the 105 to the…..
The Sprinter finds black gold, oil that is. Kinfolks said, “Dave, move away from here; LA, now that’s where you oughtta be,” so he loaded up his Honda Accord; and moved to Beverly….Hills, that is.




Now, the Westside is a little different than the IE; too which the Sprinter has much loyalty. The reason being is that the Sprinter grew up in the south OC, and finds the IE comparable in many ways. It should be duly noted that the Sprinter does not live in the DEEP IE, (Riverside, Beaumont, Colton, etc.) So of course the Sprinter does not know the real joy of living in a REAL authentic IE environment, which consists of SKIN stickers, big trucks, dirt bikes, Hurley shirts, and a “Bro-Ho,” complete with black/blond hair, short shorts, tons of make-up, and the Devil/Angel girl decals in the rear windshield. I’ve had worse proclaims the Sprinter, bring em’ on!

In the parking lot, all the Cat 3 studs are sizing each other up on their trainers. It’s the same crowd as last week dipstick, relax. It’s no surprise Kahala LaGrange is rolling deep, this being a Westside race and all. Doffing their USC sweaters and hopping out of their BMW’s complete with bumper sticker stating “My daddy could buy your daddy ten times.” As the Sprinter approaches the start line he is surrounded by a drove of LaGrange pritty boyz and reminded WHOSE race this belongs to; just exactly WHERE he is now. The Sprinter reminds them that Griffin Easter, little brother to beloved LaGrange sprinter Stratton; now attends school in Claremont; and should any ill-will be done toward The Sprinter, baby Easter might go AWOL, (If ya know whatta mean.) This is reflected upon. The grungy, cherub like leader waives the LaGrange mutants away from the Sprinter and the race is on.

32 miles, shortened to 27 due to movie filming on Westside, as per. First couple of laps are surgy, the kind of stuff the Sprinter hates, cuz he knows it will all come back, so why oh why are we all hauling ass out of the saddle for nothing. The Sprinter’s teammate Andy Boscoroni, searching for 2 more upgrade points for Cat2 (which he will score with a third place) takes a flyer. The Sprinter goes to the front to choke it up, noting that the he is driving into a headwind. Smart move. The pack gets antsy and attacks go left and right, forcing the Sprinter to follow. After catching Andy, he looks over at me and says “hey, why didn’t you block for me?” I did! How could not see 182 lbs in a matching lycra uniform! You looked back like five times fer the love.

A Lap later, The Sprinter gets bored and takes an attack himself, “I will take a 17 cog into the headwind up the false flat for 500, Mr. Trebek.” The answer is: A Daily Double! The Sprinter gets a 300m gap, and looks back to see an Allegient Air Rider (who is always off the front) bridging up to join him. Sweetness? Or one of those Pee-Wee Herman sticks of gum that turns gross after a second? The Sprinter and the dark-skinned evader last about 3 miles and then, POP, goes the legs! And who reeled us back? Surely it would be LaGrange with 12 deep in the field? No, a rider with NO teammates in the race. Guess he just felt like it. Ba-da-bing.
The rest of the race was a blur. A break of six went up the road and Bert Glennon from Schroeder Iron went to the front and yanked them all back like kiddies on those stretchy ropes. The Sprinter finished in the pack, seeing as he failed to move up down the backstretch and never got close to the front again. There’s always next week of course.


Driving home I saw this license plate, which ironically detailed my travel home.

Church or Bike Racing?

OR

Well, in this day and age where only 10% of Americans read the bible every day; of course based on a pole where a majority of those 10% admitted to indulging in the Lord’s diary out of guilt; or even worse just because they wanted to “look good” for Jesus. Fer the love, in my three decades on this earth I have met two or three what would call “good Christians.” So in all brutal and non-PC honesty I think the question is well deserved. Even if not out of mere daydreaming, absent thought, or spiritual pursuit; but based on the simple fact a Godasaurus Rex attempted to devour my soul for racing a bicycle in lieu of churchgoing. I have always joked that someone would find fault in my replacing the visitation of the good Friar Tuck’s house with banging elbows against a bunch of other idiots at a bike race; on God’s day of rest and recovery. Well, someone finally did it.

But therein lies my point. There ARE no Friar Tucks. If there are, they are too hard to find. One cannot simply Google “real ministers” in order to find a suitable preacher of the word. I suppose part of my cynicism stems from my lack of Sunday masses as a child. My religious experience as a child consisted of watching Indiana Jones kill Nazis and find the Lost Ark. Or maybe it was the cultish way some of the families around me attempted to push religion on me. The tact almost always seemed to be one of guilt. “Jesus won’t love you if you don’t love him,” “You’re going to hell if you don’t go to church,” “Real men love Jesus,” etc. Look, The Sprinter is OK with religion part. I just don’t want to go to church. Ferchrist, I’m 30 this year; and I don’t know any of the songs ok? It’s uncomfortable for me. Since when do I have to go to church to love Jesus anyway? One could argue that if your race started later then you could ideally do both. But eventually, you will do one where it is impossible to do both.

A man I knew once said it best; essentially separating the religion from the institution. His name was Doug Goldstein, the former manager of Guns N’ Roses; back in the hot years, (Where do we go, where do we go now, where do we go, sweet child o’ mine.) Doug made the clear statement of “Hey, church is cool and all, but every time I go, God’s broke again. What’s he spend so much money on?”

Doug shared the same gimlet eyed approach after watching the Reverend Robert Schuler Jr. grow in wealth and prosperity in the south Orange County. We both knew him personally, and decided independently that he didn’t need anymore million dollar homes or Mercedes S500’s.


This is more often than not a verboten topic, and I don’t normally engage in public conversation on the topic. But am I the only bike racer who has thought of it? I don’t think so. I’ll put my next paycheck on the fact that many wives/girlfriends have derided their idiot bike racer for not going to church and hanging out/socializing with the “good” people.

Many of the bike racers I know border on the obsessive when it comes to their Sunday races, and I imagine most of them are NOT thinking about church while rolling on their trainer waiting for their race to start.

So will Jesus hate me for racing my bike on Sundays? Will I be denied entry into heaven for sprinting down industrial park roads and chasing the dream? Will Peter stop me and say, “well Dave, you did CBR on this day, and SDSR on this day, and state championships on this day.” I think not.

So with that; I am racing my bike this Sunday. God will not hate me; nor will baby Jesus. See you guys on the road.

SDSR TT today

Not really wishing all that much I was there, seeing as it's UPHILL. But I have my SC Velo volunteering duties to do so I will be a TT "holder" for the Cat 3, Cat 2, and Pro field. Which, will be very cool to watch the pro's as they get ready to take off. You can tell someof them are really sweating it, especially the GC contenders who's bread is earned with the stuff. It's super foggy out so I'm heading for a quick ride before I head up to Glendora. It will be interesting to see the times today, the climbers will be having their day today for sure.

Crash at Murrieta+Cracked Frame=NOT HAPPY

Can you really console someone after their brand new custom SC Velo/Incycle team bike get’s completely ruined? Would you even approach such a volatile and emotionally emptied bike racer? Especially given the terms on which the bike was ruined; nimrods attempting to negotiate a turn at a higher speed then the skills granted by God in place.

It was just a matter of time before turn #2 claimed flesh and carbon from the Cat 3 pack, the cycling Gods were above and salivating at the riders in front of me taking corners like a drunk hillbilly driving a lawnmower.
So with 3 laps to go, it finally happened. The self about 2/3 of the way up the pack, heard the sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Like an earthquake ravaging an IE suburb, it’s something you hear before you feel. The click clacking of spokes, the screech of brakes; lycra clad, waif like humans launching into heaps of sheared carbon and artery slicing chainrings.


Well, sweet baby jesus if I didn’t do my damndest to get out of the way. I moved off the road into the dirt swinging outside. I thought for sure I was going to get around it, but the people in front of me had other ideas. They all moved over too, and before I knew it I was airborne.

You know, it’s a sad thing when you are flipping upside down and actually have a few seconds to think, “f..k, this is going to hurt.” Wham! First impact on the top of the helmet and back of the shoulders as I slide upside down, the sunlight blinding me. Just skidding along and still thinking, “Jesus, I cannot believe I crashed.”
I come to a halt and slowly pick myself up. The stinging on my skin where I skidded along is developing. My handlebars are bent all the way down and curled underneath my top tube. I cannot move the steering tube. Oh well. Paramedics show up and take care of the walking wounded. About now I’m thinking “no big deal, I will be back tomorrow.”


Then I see it. The CRACK.























My heart sinks to the doldrums. I mean LOW. You got to be kidding. I got this bike a month ago; it has FOUR races in it, and is now utterly useless. Now my spirit sinks. Later on Mother will offer:

“At least you’re ok, the bike can be replaced.”

“Hey, the important thing is you’re not hurt bad, don’t worry about the bike.”

REALLY!?! I don’t see anyone offering to front me the money to fix it! FERCHRIST’s sake I have medical insurance I could get a freakin' lobotomy tomorrow and it will be a $5 copay. Like I give a shit about me. Losing the bike is worse, but I still love you mom.

New Steed

Well, the team bike is here. I was lucky enough that my size (56) was one of the first to come in. A quick review:
First off, I love the color scheme. It was chosen by the owner of our main sponsor (Incycle Bike shops) Dominic Galenti. Since my last bike was black it was definitely a huge change, but I think it looks awesome. These are the specs:

Frame: Cannondale Super Six
Cranks: Cannondale hollowgram SI
Drivetrain: Full Shimano DA 7900
Wheels: Mavic Ksyrium Elite (my favorite wheel ever)
Bars/seatpost: FSA K-force carbon
Stem: FSA OS-115 alloy
Seat: Fizik Arione CX
Pedals: DA 7810
Computer: Garmin Edge 305

First ride, and the first thing that came to mind was "different." I really thought my System Six would have felt the same but it doesn't. It's very hard to describe actually. At first I thought it was sluggish and heavy, but that doesn't make sense because it's super stiff and lighter than my other ride. What I thought was "less snappy" was actually just a smoother ride. It's definitely not flexy, sprinting up a hill during a training ride and the back wheel slid back and forth a couple of times. So whatever you put into the pedals goes straight to the road that's for sure.

DA 7900:
Very different from 7800. A little less travel, but more of a positive shift, similar to sram/campy...You really know you shifted from the feel of the shifter, but you don't even notice it on the bike. The drivetrain moves through the cogs and chainrings smooth as butter. Two things I will have to get used to is the size of the hoods and the lack of cables in the front. I feel like I am going to fall through the bars, it just looks so empty there now. The hoods are much smaller and feel like older campy hoods with ergonomics. All in all, I am very pleased. BTW, just a tidbit I called Shimano and the 7800 DA cogsets are compatible with the 7900 groupset, so at least I don't have to buy an extra set for my racing wheels.

Now the question is, how many wins will the bike bring me this year? We shall see.....

Some pics:

Waiting for this rain to stop

Normally, I love the rain. But when the training is going good and the season is nearing it feels horrible to miss training days. Just ride in the rain you might say? Well, here's what many people know about me already, but I am super weird about putting my bike into weather. I don’t mind riding in the cold and wet, in fact racing in the rain is fun. But I am a freak with keeping my bike clean, even though the new one is due any day now. During the season it’s even worse. I train on it all week but I NEVER went to one single race without my bike sparkling clean. It’s a little obsessive, but oh well. Could you imagine? What if a piece of dirt was in my chain and dropped my max wattage down 5 watts, and I lose the race to some dirty-bike riding, scabies infested dirtbag?!? Imagine the gnashing of teeth and pulling of pubics!
Ok, so I had some pics here I took on a couple of rides up to Baldy and GMR before Christmas. The mountains were covered in snow and it was flippin’ freezing. It wasn’t so bad going through La Verne getting to the climb, but once the altitude rose my hands were completely numb. Riding in Oregon in the snow was more pleasant than this one. Later I found out it was 12 degrees up there. Stupid. Well, good thing is I began hitting ice patches and had to head back down. I mean, I’m an adventurous guy but descending over black ice is something I will leave for the 12k dreamers. The last time I went to Baldy a Steller ’s Jay was eating seeds next to the fountain. People think these are Blue Jays but Steller’s is actually the proper name, due to their distinct black Mohawk. Think of them like a blue colored Cardinal.
Of note: This is my sister’s kitty. He is apparently reading the news while she does homework. He is a moody little fooker though.

Mount Baldy

Before when I was heavier, I HATED this climb. Now, it's my favorite. As a sprinter I won't be blasting up the climb anytime soon, but there is a certain sort of feeling one get's on an ascent. As I climb I feel like I am accomplishing something, like I am going somwhere...Instead of simply spinning around. Everytime I ask people if they want to climb to Baldy village no one answers the email or makes an excuse not to. The only person that will be game everytime is Chris DeMarchi. But he's Chris DeMarchi. While on that note it was Chris who showed me the beauty of climbing Baldy road. Suffering behind Chris (which inevitably happens on every ride with him) I have grown to love that road. Baldy is unique because of it's steepness, and if you go all the way to the switchbacks and the ski lifts, it's harder than Alp d'huez. I used to ride with music every ride, now I leave the ipod at home if I climb anywhere. I ride from down in the valley from my home to the foot of the climb, which takes about one hour. It's actually a steady climb all the way through Ontario, so it's mainly the small ring the whole ride up. One you get into the climb it is peaceful and quiet. I remember one day it was misty and a little foggy as I ascended, and all I could hear was my breath and my tires on the road. It's almost a spiritual experience. The climb starts to get rough at the second tunnel, but I can still stay in zone 3 comfortably now. By the time I hit hogsback ridge, at the gradient climbs I am more towards the red zone. I remember I couldn't even make it past the second tunnel and I would have to get off and go back down. It's a great feeling when you know you've gotten stronger and lighter. Of course, being 185 lbs it's still a chore. There is a slight reprieve after the sign and a small descent before the last climb into the village. I climbed up on Wednesday this week and no one was there. I usually stop at the post office to water up and head back down unless I am going to the icehouse or ski lifts. The best part about the ride is that once you are done it's downhill all the way home. It's takes me about 1 1/2 hours to get from home to the village, and about 27 minutes to get home. Pretty funny actually, since I am going up the steep part at like 7-8 mph and down at 55 mph. Anyway, this has now become my favorite climb next to GMR-Baldy. GMR-Baldy is also a great ride, and a good test of your fitness since you can ride the whole climb without stops. Lot's of poeple ride to the climb but I take the hour to ride from home, it's a good way to warm up and get extra miles in.