Easy Like Sunday... Afternoon

Corey, Troy and I made a run to a missile silo North of town today. For them, it was easy despite riding and organizing the GLGA the day before, for me, not so much.

Mindset

This quote has been rolling through my mind a lot lately. With nearly every night spent coaching sports for my kids, it all flies by while very little gets done, particularly in terms of fitness.

World's Collide and Subside

This was found by friend and co-worker, Josh, the same cat who joined me at the Amstel Gold.

Intentional Full URL: http://emberapp.com/jamfactory/images/death-before-derailleur

Documented

Colorado Sighting.

And When I Say "Of Course"...

... I mean, "Of Course!"

Experimental Theatre

I've been experimenting with a heart-rate monitor a lot lately. It was pretty obvious after a few rides that once I go above a certain threshold, I'm done in about three seconds. So, today I decided to go out and ride 50 miles right below that mark.

Smart training? No idea, but it felt very good to blow out all the cobwebs (and I little silly to keep looking down at my wrist.)

Nature did put me in my place though, with above ten miles to go a bird decided to drop a pile on my wrist and no amount of water seemed to be able to wash it away. Avarian flu here I come!

North Bend Bound

Travelled NW 40 and County Rd 25 toward North Bend. Despite not
making the entire route, my friend Mike chalked up his longest time on
gravel and longest overall ride. He'd have make the entire distance
but time wasn't on our side.

The Streak May Be Over

Kerkove has some skills

I'd been wondering and worried about this for a while. While I haven't always been at my best for TI, I had so far managed to get to the start line each year. A scheduling version of being "between a rock and a hard place" has year six looking incredibly unlikely. Perhaps new events will lead to fresh motivations and new scenery.

Right now though, I find myself feeling a bit nostaligic. Five years is a long time.

Haircut 100

Getting the mop trimmed today... Maybe it's time to buy in to the mullet.

Ride It Like You'll Blog It

As they say, there are only twenty-four hours in a day ("and only twelve notes, a man can play...") So, between coaching two teams, having a third practice to attend and a peach of a week at work, this little square peg in a round internet was ignored and, at times, simply forgotten.

But while you can remove an local XC races as options due to a youth sports conflict, the Dakota 50 is still out there asking for consideration and a reasonable amount of fitness to be present at the start line.

South by Southwest

Saturday. I hit a quick run before rolling a solid three plus hours with Sam and B. Minks. Sam got me lost in town but I regain bearing outside of town as we made a nice loop out of the South side of town, closing things down on the Road Island. The ride ended with the pleasant surprise of a table set path-side offering free vegetables. Score.

Them's good eating...

Saturday Night. More family coming first as both kids had things keeping them up late and, by extension, handing Mrs. Snob and I the same fate. (Though she got the worst of it.) Mod's ride was not an option, but B. and Sam were up for more and we took to the pavement yet again.

Heading East back around Branched Oak

A little light Dakota 50 talk, some remnants of yesterdays ride in the legs and a dash of headwind made it another nice effort.

An angle usually reserved for Cornbread

Via Johnny

Exit Strategy

What started as a simple effort to gain back some lost fitness ended in the simply conclusion that I would make a horrid meteorologist.

Quick natural break

After heading north for about an hour and a half, thunder and lightening made themselves known to the West. After concluding it was heading my way and riding for home, it soon seemed I might be riding right into the weather.

Trying to figure out which way it's going

Soon enough, I was on South 14th realizing that I have nothing on Les Neesman. With weather all-around, I headed toward what I know best, some place that serves espresso

"Let's go with a triple..."

Assorted Snobbery: It's Been an Interesting Week...

... but not on the bike.

The Cronin crew played host to a British soccer coach over the past week. While I wasn't overly surprised that he wasn't familiar with Graeme Obree, I was fairly shocked to find he drank Bud Light and listened to The Doors, Led Zepp and classic rock. As I said to John and Sam, "What kind of cultural experience is that?"

However, what was fun was simply talking Scotland with him and discovering that they use miles instead of kilometers for driving distance, have a lot more land mass that I had thought, and, as you might expect, that BraveHeart was incredibly inaccurate from a historical perspective.

With the kids busy for three hours in the evening, basemiles had been on my mind. Build back up, get strong, etc. etc. However, when my commute felt like a century on Monday, I backed off the bike time and spent each evening out at the pitch watching the crew. It seems there will be a bit more 'ease' involved in easing back into it.

Not that I don't like sleeping in, but this is ridiculous.

Cycling Vogue

Creeping Back

I found myself coming back to life a bit this morning, leading to my first time on the bike since 9 Mile. The pinkie IF and I commuted and, while I wouldn't say I felt a spring ready to burst from my legs, at least I was riding. The glands are still a bit dodgy but at least things are going the right direction.

A telltale sign things still aren't right did rear its ugly head on the way home. Someone in a hurry to get home nearly drove into me at a street crossing. Generally, this prompts something from me; a hand on the trunk or a middle finger salute. Today though, nothing. Not even a head shake. I locked up the brakes, paused and moved on and that is just not like me.

Take Two Aspirin and Call Me in the Morning...

"Sir, those aren't chewables."

"I'll be the judge of that."

As people who race bikes, we talk a lot about how we feel. And, as a group who 'exercise and call it sport,' those conversations can range from excuse riddled lack-of-training cover ups to legitimate reports resulting from the various viruses and bed bugs the general populace stroll around with everyday.

Prior to 9 Mile, I didn't feel my best and, with Sam strolling around with Mono, played the denial game, deciding not to get looked at until I was back from Wisconsin.

Fast-forward to this week, blood draws and chats with your friendly doctor so-and-so. Has anything changed? Not really.

Poking and proding lead to some commentary that my glands were indeed swollen and that, yes, I likely had Mono (Damn it, Sam!). Of course, then the blood work came back negative (Oh, sorry, Sam.)

After that news was delivered, I got this.

"Well, you definately have something, that much is certain."

"But it's not Mono."

"No, ever had any allegry issues."

"No."

"Well, it might be that. We're going to put you on some Claritin."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we'll try that."

<>

"Do you want a prescription?"

"It's over the counter, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah."

"I think I'm good. Thanks." (For nothing.)

Since we're grasping at straws, my vote for What Ails the Snob? is cytomegalovirus. It's what Alessandro Ballan had that knocked him out of the classics and cemented the infamous World Champions curse for another year. Why? Because it fits my symptoms and, because it's more romantic than having some silly little flower be such a big impact.

Feel free to cast your vote. You can also offer sage wisdom, such as 'take two aspirin,' 'walk it off,' or 'rub some dirt on it.'

24 Hr Party People

You know, once you head out for a lap, you really have no idea what's going on in the pit. Ah, the madness of 24 racing.

I believe Carrie is "thanking" Sam for the polished War Axe belt buckle, but who knows.

Speechless...

24 Hrs of 9 Mile: No Sympathy for the Devil

"Wow.  You just don't have it right now, but it's a long race."

For eight hours of the 24 Hrs of 9 Mile, the angel on my shoulder kept whispering those words in my ear, so I tried to keep turning the pedals over with a hopeful eye on mimicking Constantine's resurrection from last year.  Of course, it didn't happen.

As we lined up from the start, I wished Aristotle luck, lined up behind eventual SS Solo winner the Ronsta, and looked around for Paddy's pink and white helmet.  I didn't see him at the start but 3/4 of the way through I heard a "Hey Fella" on my left and there he was.  I smiled, said something I don't recall and as we hit the bikes, split grabbed our steeds and I watched Paddy punch it to get ahead of traffic.  I went to follow but didn't have the gear or snap to really follow.  I yelled "Give'er Paddy" as he dropped away into the first single track turned my focus to the trail.

As I was finishing the lap, I knew I wasn't really firing well, but, remarkable for me was the fact that I had cleaned all of the courses technical sections pretty easily.  Something that had been a problem in the past, so there was the hope.  Stay smooth, handle the bike well until the legs came back.

Just before the end of a lap at 9 Mile you pop into a short single track section that's flat smooth and twisting.  I have always found it fun, but it was also dry to the bone and I washed out cruising around a turn.    No injuries, just something else to keep the governor on the machine.

The next four or five laps were essentially the same.  Good technically, but just no zip and the constant process of trying to figure out how to break out of the rut.  I came in at the end of four and said to Sam something to the effect of, "My lap times are pretty mediocre, aren't they?"  You could tell he was wondering what the right thing to say was but responded with a straight-forward 'yes' and objectively broke down how things were going.  

Lap six, at least I think it was six, unwound me.  

First, Chris and one of his Siren teammates passed me near the first aid station, but I unintentionally pulled them back on the subtle climb into what I think of as the first techie section of the course (I'm sure it has a name but I don't know it.)  As we climbed up and into the rocks, I was slowly reeling them in so I decided that I would see if I could get on a wheel before the rocks ended.  It was working and as we entered the gradual descent, I was nearly close enough to try to say something clever to Chris, when my front skewer popped loose and play time was over.   No big deal really, but then it was like someone kicked me in the nuts.

Second, and only a short time later, Paddy lapped me.  Which is not to say I expected to win the race or top him, I just never thought I would get lapped by anyone before dark.  

"So, you've got no snap, you're bummed you got passed by a guy running a 40x11 and you need to strap your balls balls back on." - Sam Rosenau dispenses love War Axe style.

So after another pit, some disappointed ranting and general wasted energies, I took back off and, somewhere along the way decided I needed to switch into "fun mode."  Fun Mode had a few bullet-points in it, such as the idea of some how blogging a lap.  I also envisioned it involved drinking, riding and hitting the jump at the first aid station but when I pitted and announced we were switching to Fun Mode, both John and Sam looked at me like I was half-baked and so, I just went back out.

My next to last lap remains memorable for one simple reason.  I crashed in a rock garden.  Near the end of the second technical section of the course, there was a line I kept taking to the far left that was not the standard route.  I couldn't tell you what I missed but, one moment I was upright, then my fork bottomed out and I was on the ground making those eerie unintentional groaning sounds people sometime make after a wreck.  My knee took a bit more of the impact then the rest of me, but I slowly sorted myself out and finished out the lap.

I feel like there should be more to relate about my last lap, but I don't have much.  I remember thinking none of the climbs were an issue, despite my knee not enjoying the efforts.  I remember water tasting like gold.  I remember the glands in my neck hurting with swallowing being tough and I remember fireworks going off at the Red Bud Rd aid station.  Otherwise, it was an anti-climatic end.  I sat down.  Sam told me something about the battle for 5th and 6th place and I fell asleep.  I know you can go back out even if you take a huge break, but it never really occurred to me.  To me, it was another DNF.  

It occurs to me now that every race I have done this season has ended with those three letters and I am a little unsure of what to say about that...

Off to figure out what comes next...

Tent City War Axe Style

Thanks to Nate at Monkey Wrench for the added pop-up. Our home away
from home is set.

Space Was Easy

I am sure race won't go quite so easily.