Wow – updating this is never easy, it’s just too easy to sort of replay the themes of cycling and training and racing in your head, and then let them sort themselves out, rather than put the words on e-paper. However, I’ll try to bring everything up to date with a long post.
Lessee, where to begin. Maybe go backwards in time? Oh, that’s right, June. More heat, more efforts on the bike, and more directions to turn to make this whole coaching gig actually work out.
I left everyone at the end of May, where I raced in three crits and had two DNF’s and a mid-pack finish to show for it. But it was definitely hot, and several conversations with promoters lead me to believe that late May and early June revealed some of the highest attrition rates in North Texas competitions. Usually you can assume that about 20-30% of the athletes competing in any one race will not finish the race. In this case, it was more like 50% to 60%, and the fields were effectively decimated. That doesn’t mean that the racing wasn’t still of a high caliber, it just means that we have GOT to prepare for the environment in which we compete. I didn’t, and I paid the price for it.
I had a weekend off from competition, and spent Saturday, May 31st sleeping about 10 hours straight, one of the longest rests I’ve had in quite some time. It felt WONDERFUL. Then, on the first of June, I met up with Darlene Jones out at the Texas Motor Speedway, and we practiced some 20-minute efforts, though she was late, and I did have Cindi Phillippi coming over to the location later in the morning. We set up Cindy’s computer software after doing some intervals, and decided on the best approach to helping her achieve her goals this summer and in to next year. I’m confident that I can help – just this past Wednesday she had her highest overall finish in the “C” race crit in Fort Worth. So things should be coming together for her.
COPPERAS COVE
Copperas Cove, in Central Texas, proved to be one of the most difficult weekends of competition I’ve ever faced on a road bike. The competition on Saturday was for the Age-based State RR championships, and I was looking forward to competing with a bunch of buddies from different categories, and trying to help Chris Kutach, the president of Mirage, as best as I could. The day dawned incredibly hot and windy, however, and once again I was completely unprepared for the elements. I think I hung on for about 90 minutes, maybe longer, before I cracked on a 3-minute hill, one of the longer ones in Texas. I did rally and tried like the dickens to catch back on, but for some reason, one of my teammates was more interested in having me drag his sorry butt up and over the hills than have us work together on anything. We were also dealing with the attrition rate yet again, and I literally soloed a whole bunch of the rest of the race back to the finish line, when I finally got popped with about 8 miles to go, suffered a heat stroke-like symptom (delusions and lost sight temporarily in one eye), and sort of had an out-of-body experience. I limped in, coming in in something like 29th place or so, immediately took a recovery drink, packed myself in my ice vest, and tried to cool down. Others were not so lucky. Cindy became ill out on the course, and came back to the finish line apparently looking like a rag doll. I was already back in the room by the time she came in. No one on the Mirage squad had great results, though several did survive the lead pack and made their mark on the event. However, most of them were disgusted with the event, the conditions, and themselves, and left for home that night. I had paid for two races, however, and I wanted to compete.
Sunday was more of the same, but in this case it was a race run by categories. However, due to the number of departures overnight, the 3’s were mixed with the 1’s and 2’s, and when the race started, there were several attacks that sent the pack in to a tizzie. I wonder if it was the wind stirring up some bizarre set of passions, because people were really berzerk out there. The course was run in reverse, and when we made the left-hand turn on to what I’ll affectionately call “crap road”, the peloton guttered itself and rode like they had poured gas on a dog’s tail and lit it. I think I survived 12 minutes in the ensuing gutterfest, but it wasn’t more than 30 seconds after I got popped that I looked up and the ENTIRE peloton had completely blown itself up. There were 1’s, 2’s, and 3’s, in groups of 2 and 3, just rolling along at maybe 15 miles per hour, heads down, dripping. I sort of rallied and tried to get a group of 5 or 6 together, but ended up with just one other guy who rode with me for another 15 or 20 miles, before we decided to DNF and basically get the heck out of there. On that one stretch of road, I think I must have passed about 20 other riders, and then picked up and passed another half dozen or more.
This was a strange, strange, strange weekend of racing. Attrition on Sunday was over 70%. There were single digits of 3’s that stayed and finished, much less remained competitive. Cindy got sick out on the course again, another sign that maybe sometimes riding, racing, or even competing in high heat and humidity conditions aren’t the right thing to do for some of us. I got more chills on Sunday, but this time, I DID take my Camelback with me, and it WAS filled to the brim with ice and complex carbs. But even then, it wasn’t enough. The racing was hard, but the conditions conspired to create what could have been a dangerous sittuation.
So that makes what, 5 races in a row where I ended up getting some degree of heatstroke and dehydration? And four DNF’s? I won’t comment too much about my degree of fitness. It definitely could have been better, but man, the conditions were plain conspiratorial.
I spent the next 3 days sort of recovering, and actually flew out to Lubbock for the Jr. Development Camp from Monday through Wednesday. The kids were great, the testing had a few bobbles at first, but we got everything under control, and ended up with a great set of data. I came back home to work and earn some money, and then attended the Saturday version of the Matrix Crit, where once again, conditions were extremely hot and humid. This time, I DID finish on the lead lap, but I just lost it about 3 laps from the end, and fell off the pace a bit. Once again, there were a huge number of DNF’s, and I resolved to not attend the Sunday race, just to save my sanity a bit.
Tuesday night, the 17th, I learned that I am being furloughed from iBike for July and August. Huh. Well, nuts to that. I won’t comment on it any more, but it definitely puts me in a bind for my practice and my overall income. I’m still working on a book for John, but the deadline is July 1. So we’ll see.
ELKHORN CLASSIC
The goal for the entire year was to try and get as prepared as possible so that I could peak for the 4-stage Elkhorn Classic, held in Baker City, Oregon, from the 20th through the 22nd of June. For those who haven’t ridden out there, Oregon has a vibrant cycling and competitive community, and is host to some of the most competitive and most scenic events in the country. Baker City is just 2 hours West of Boise, so I took advantage of the opportunity, flew out with both the road bike and the TT bike, and decided to make the best of it.
The goal for Stage 1 was to HIDE. I had no teammates, just one friend, and had every intention of simply trying like heck to HOLD ON and finish with the pack as much as possible. Well, a break went up the road early, and we did NOTHING. I got a flat, got a wheel change, got back IN to the pack, and again, the pack did NOTHING. There were no attacks, no efforts to bridge, nothing for about 3 hours. FINALLY, on the long climb to the big summit in the woods, there were some serious efforts to break up the pack. And while I lasted longer this year than I did two years ago, I did still get popped about 1 mile from the summit. However, a group of us made it back together, roughly 12 riders, and about 10 of us (some red and white jerseyed guys simply would NOT do any work, I hope they get thorns in their tires) pulled and pulled and pulled until it finally broke apart. About 5 miles from the finish, I was done, and I lost a lot of ground, finishing several minutes down. The 2-4 minute hills, one after the other, were what did it, and I kicked myself, knowing that I should have been better prepared. Still, I did come in a little faster than Spencer, and I completely blew up on the ride home.
NUTS.
Stage 2 was the TT, and though I was using my Ergomo, I do believe I had a better time trial than in the previous years. In 2006, I managed an awful 80th position. This year, I got 35th. The disc and Nimble Tri worked pretty well, but my aero bars DID slip, and there’s no telling whether the Ergomo was accurate or not. I went out at a 235NP, and came back averaging a 238NP, so something went well in terms of power output – I just don’t know how much… ergomo’s perpetually perplex me. The result of the effort? I moved up ONE STINKING PLACE IN THE GC, from 66th to 65th. NUTS NUTS NUTS NUTS NUTS.
Now, after the TT, Spencer, my buddy and ex-client from Medford/Central Point, went out and decided to shoot some images of the Stage 1 course, so that in the future, I could come out and have some better memory pegs and mental markers for the dread that lay ahead. We returned to town in what can only be described as a summer storm in the mountains. Cold, first misty, then heavy horizontal rain, accompanied by a driven wind and sort of a sand storm picked up and changed the whole atmosphere of the valley. Spencer and I got back in to town about 3pm, just in time to get ready for the crit that afternoon. But the rain stayed off and on throughout the afternoon and evening, and while we actually started the crit between storms, there were so many crashes in previous races that had all been either cancelled or shortened or delayed, that we were certain the race itself would either not start or would end prematurely. And we were right. After no more than 15 minutes, the officials called the race when a big storm jumped in and turned the course in to slick blacktop and concrete. We were done for the night. We went back to the hotel, changed up real quick, ate some Mexican food, and called it a night.
Stage 4 – Dooley Mountain.
The final stage of the race was supposed to be the stage where I was going to ’shine’. My numbers were good, my body was relaxed, I had gotten 8 hours of sleep most every night I’d been up there, and there were no expectations being placed on me. So, we get up, get dressed, eat a good meal, show up at the race start, and we go off at a leisurely pace through town for a 103 mile journey that covered 4 climbs. Oh, and I dorked out by riding with a Camelback full of cold complex carbs, and two bottles. Maybe 3. I can’t remember. I had some bars, but they were pretty soft, and soft bars are realllly hard to eat.
IT. WAS. SO. BORING.
The first 30 minutes went by, and one guy was off the front, maybe a pair of guys in between, and one other that I could see from the pack. Then there were the rest of us. We’re averaging about 15 mph. The road is narrow. The pack still joined tightly. I couldn’t really move up or back. I just pedaled and coasted.
Another 10 minutes go by. I’m bored. Then another 5, and I finally see a small break go up the road. I’m about 30 riders back from the start, and I roll up and say “I’ll take a pull and bring ‘em back”, as if to say, “We’re going to lollygag for 4 hours or more, so we might as well do it like a family.”
Well, it didn’t quite turn out that way.
I bridged to the four, and we ended up pulling up what was the first major climb, up to a reservoir. I looked back, saw NO ONE, and figured, Oh heck, let’s see where this goes….
One or two guys went back, but about four or five of us merged with some of the solo artists and formed a decent-powered breakaway. On the second major climb, one turkey decided he was going to protect his GC man (WHAT???), and wouldn’t work with us at all, but this guy that I’d made friends with on Stage 1, George from Nike in Portland, he and I hit it off, ended up working together, and we basically forged a group of 3 and then 2 that stayed away for over 80 freakin’ miles! One kid, 4th in the GC, pulled away early with another kid, and those two went on to win the entire freakin’ race, stage and GC. But George and No-Pull and I also got up to 10 minutes away from the pack, and continued to ride like we’d stolen the race for the entire stinkin’ day. Finally, finally, finally, no more than a 1/2 mile from the final climb up Dooley Mountain, the pack caught us. We’d been out for 3 and a half hours, and while I fought like heck to stay on, I was cooked.
I limped home in 80th place, completely wasted, but actually really satisfied in the results of my effort. People came up to us later and told us we’d done a great job, and the Nike guy said that if that bozo had actually done some work, we probably would have stayed away. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be.
This race continues to challenge me, and I want so badly to do well in it. I want to return next year, and try it again, but we’ll have to see how everything goes at home.
Montana Daydreaming
Tags: Bangtail Bike, Bozeman, Jeremy Martin, Montana, Owen Pittet, Richard Wharton, Ryan Seher, Tom Roll, Tom Thomas
I’m sitting here in the Bozeman airport, feeling really emotional and happy right now. The weekend went really well, but it was the renewal of several old friendships and the strengthening of bonds across time and space that made the trip so worthwhile. The intent was to attend the wedding of one of my best friends from Montana, Owen Pittet, but it was also going to be a chance to meet up with some of the kids that I rode, trained, and traveled with when I was running Team “Dazed and Confused” in the mid 1990’s. Owen was a racer, but really a friend of philosophy and pragmatism, and honestly, we spent the last years of our asolescence together.
This may ramble and move flow-of-thought, so I apologize in advance if it’s not very smooth. I need to work on stitching my stories together, and making sure that this is more cycling-focused, and it is, but cycling is as much the theme of this blog as it is the channel for the stories about the relationships and experiences and locations that I have been given because of the bike, and the ride. Is that too sappy?
I flew in on Thursday with my SRM-equipped Cervelo, and ended up sitting next to a woman who was attending the same wedding I was, but she had the privilege of being a bridesmaid. I think her name was Jennifer. We spoke for a while, but ended up departing the airport in separate directions as I went in to town to hook up with Owen and prepare for a trip to the Gallatin River for a 4-hour float. Owen’s friends Graham, Hans, Josh, and several others were there, but there was this character, a guy named “Murph” who was the star of the afternoon. The guy rode down the river in nothing but shorts, and for a good chunk of the time, he wasn’t even wearing a crash helmet. He was just this life-loving, beer-guzzling drunk and was a riot to watch and speak to. We stopped halfway down for lunch, and we survived the “Mad Mile”, which was actually pretty darned fun and fast. I’m not much for water sports, but this was a good time. Oh yeah, you can light pipes with a magnifying glass… I witnessed it.
After I got out of the river, we dropped some people off at their homes, and I got dressed and met up with my old friend Jeremy Martin and his girlfriend, Kelsey, for dinner. Jeremy was the first Junior I ever coached, and in many ways, I was, am, and remain closer to him than my own brother — we’ve just traveled parallel paths for over 15 years now. He even got a degree in Public Health, thinking he would be a coach or Phys Ed teacher. The last time I was in Bozeman (around 2001), Jeremy was getting married (didn’t last long, but his heart was in the right place, though I doubt hers was), so it’d been too long a period of time for me to have not seen him. We ate at Ferraro’s, had some exquisite wine, and I learned a lot about Kelsey, about what she and Jeremy were doing for their jobs, and where they were going in life. It was a great feeling to see them together and happy, and I think what struck me most was the fraternal love that we’ve kept alive all these years, through all this time and distance apart. I just saw him again about an hour ago at the airport, and it’s my hope that “Little Bear” keeps that cherubic smile on his face forever. Man, he looks happy and healthy! I just bumped in to him at the airport for one last hug and a hurrah. Hopefully next time I get up there, it’ll be for another wedding, hopefully his (this time for good).
Friday morning I got up and met with Ryan Seher, another one of the cyclists I coached back in the mid 90’s. Ryan and I were not as close to each other when we were in Bozeman, but honestly, I’m just as proud of my relationship with him since I departed for Boise and then Dallas, as I am about my continuing relationship with Jeremy. Ryan graduated from Bozeman HS, and then spent time being a minor ski bum and trying to make it on the National Ski Bump circuit in UT. He then attended U of U, graduated with honors with a degree in Political Science, and then went on to grad school, starting at U of U and finishing at King’s College in London. He interned for some senators and governors, and he’s now prepping to attend SUNY – Buffalo to study Internatinal Law. I’m so proud of him! He looks great, and we’ve had some amazing policy discussions over the years.
We met up for a looong bike ride, which took us from the parking lot at the “M”, up Bridger Canyon and out to Battle Ridge campground, before descending in to Wilsall, behind the Bangtails, and in to Livingston, where we stopped for lunch. The final two legs included the climb over the pass from Livingston back in to the Gallatin Valley, and then back to the “M” via Jackson Creek Road, which was completely unpaved when I was a student back in the 90’s. The total ended up being about 91.5 miles with several thousand feet of vertical. But even though the ride was spectacular, and we shot some amazing photos of ourselves, each other, and the scenery, it was the fact that I could ride with someone I hadn’t seen in over 7 years, and still have so much in common with that person. The hours flew by, and when we got back, he invited me over to his family’s house just out of town for dinner. I made a quick detour to Bangtail Bikes, to say hello to Al and Stan and Chris, and then drove over to Ryan’s house for an evening of dinner, more wine, great conversation, and then a real treat – a Board Game. Amy and I don’t get to do that very often, if at all, and win, lose, or draw, the activity is perpetually linked to family for me. New family, mind you, since my folks never did it that much, and my brother and I were usually playing LEGO by ourselves, but this was a great chance to catch up with his mom, sister, and other members of the extended family.
I left around 12:30, heart aglow and filled with fond recollections and old memories of road trips good and bad, and some new memories that left me feeling that we’d made a positive impact in each others’ lives.
I slept in on Saturday, having had two nights of imbibing and knowing that that would make sleep more difficult and performance on the bike a little harder as well, but the main sleep depriver was the altitude and dehydration. So around 10am, I went to the famous Bagelworks (breakfast with an attitude!), got some grub, and went on a tour of the campus. I quickly got bored, however, and on an impulse, I decided to call another person with whom I shared an affinity for cycling, my college advisor, Dr. Tom Roll. He immediately recognized me (it had to have been at least 10 years), and we went on a 2.5 hour conversation bender at Sparky’s Deli, talking about absolutely everything under the sun. Mountain bikes, road bikes, doping, laboratories, Buffalo Jumps, my friend Craig Lee (Dr. Craig, now), Christy the Word Smith, Dr. Carucci, Dr. Monahan, Dr.Jack, Progressivism, the school, authorship, the Kennawick Man saga, and dozens of other themes. It was a fantastic trip down memory lane, and I think the most important theme of the conversation was that I got the opportunity to thank him for sharing his knowledge with me all those years back, and that they’d remained in my head as I forged a path through this life. Mentors with smiles are the best ones, and I have to be grateful that I got the opportunity to study under this man and several others. I tell people that I got an Ivy League Education at a State School Price, and I believe it.
Sidebar – we were chatting when Tom Thomas, the Elder, walked in to the restaurant, and I stopped my conversation mid-breath to say hello. Kinda nice when a client and husband and father of clients also meets your mentor. Kinda cool.
So, anyway, I said my goodbye’s to Dr. Roll, headed back to Jeremy’s house, and got ready for the drive to Helena and the wedding. The trip out there was uneventful, and I arrived about 3:30. While there, it was a little awkward, since I wasn’t really involved in the ceremony itself, so I re-introduced myself to Owen’s Father, Ian? and we struck up a great conversation about growing up, growing old, and all the great memories. A slide show had been put together showing Owen’s and Lynelle’s lives up to that point where they met, and afterward, so we had a blast chuckling about the childhood photos, as well as the young adult ones. There were a few pictures of O and I riding bikes, and that was pretty special.
The ceremony itself was absolutely perfect. It was short and sweet, just under half an hour, and everyone looked dapper. I got photos of Josh, Graham, and Hans, and a few photos of Owen, but I don’t think I ever got a good shot of Lynelle. I hope the Wedding photographer had better luck than I did. Everyone got in, there were no trip ups, and we then waited outside on an absolutely gorgeous day while family photos were shot. I was reintroduced to Owen’s sisters, and we all agreed to make a full evening out of it. I then ran over to the hotel, checked in, stepped right back out again, and headed over to Carroll College, where the dinner and dance were being held.
I sat back at the table next to Owen’s father again, and we resumed our conversation for a while, but then something caught my eye. One of the band members was someone I recognized! I walked up to him between sets, asked him if he’d delivered pizzas in Bozeman back in the 90’s, and he immediately remembered me as well. Jeremy and I were big fans of RUSH, and he was an ACE drummer. He still plays, teaches 5th grade, and has three kids. I’m really happy for him, and it was great to relive some of those old times with someone else that I might never have seen again.
As the evening wore on, the toasts were made, dinner was served, and I got to dance with Owen’s mom, Olivia. Then the sisters and I danced, and then, well, we all just got in to the hang of things and let the DJ take over for the evening.
I partied like it was 1999. The shirt got untucked, the blazer came off, we drank just enough to get loose, ate high sugar content cake, and then danced some more. There were a few breaks, and honestly, some of the dancing and conversation came across with certain innuendos, which I’m guilty of, but which I also enjoyed tremendously, but you know, it was harmless, it was fun, and it was a celebration for two wonderful people, their families, and their friends. So I took advantage of it and had a blast. I hope I’m not remembered as the ‘crazy one’, like I was at times in HS, but considering that I may never see any of these people again, you know, it is what it is. And that’s not a bad thing.
We ended around 2am, after all the cleanup, and I went to the hotel room, crashed for all of 4 hours, and then got up, dressed up in the stinky suit I was wearing, and headed out for Day 4 of my Grand Adventure: destination, Ennis via Dillon.
Dillon, MT is where Rev. Jane Shipp, one of the most important women in my life, now resides. She runs the parish of St. James in that small town, and though she knew I was traveling out there and wanted to see her, she had not contacted me at all to confirm her presence, so I went out on a wing and a prayer. I blitzed over through Butte, then hit 110 for about an hour as I drove through the prairie land on I-15, and got in to Dillon around 9:05.
NUTS. She wasn’t there.
NUTS. I couldn’t stay or stick around for any other reason – I had to get to Ennis and do some business with John and iBike.
NUTS.
So…. I got back in the car and took some back road to 287, then sneaked through Virginia City, stopping to say hello to a bunch of Illinois cyclists who were riding across the country to raise funds for Cancer research at their Uni. I got to Ennis around 10:30, met up with John and EINSTEIN the parrot, had brunch, and then we headed out to the house, HQ for iBike. I got to take a nap, but then we had a serious conversation about iBike and my role in it, and then we finally got down to the road to get a short, but satisfying ride in. Ennis has changed a TON since I was there. It’s almost…. civilized? Wow, can’t believe I’m saying that.
Anyway, we headed in to town for dinner at the Continental Divide, enjoyed some more wine (4th night in a row for said alcohol, wow), a great meal, and then we headed home for a night’s rest. It was evening in Montana, complete with absolute quiet, punctured by breezes flowing against window screens, and the occasional howling of coyotes. Eugenie the poodle is definitely an indoor dog.
So, all that said and done, I got up around 8, we started watching the Tour, and I got my bike packed up and ready to go. I had to leave with all but 5k to go on the stage, but made it to Bozeman in good time. Lo and behold, Jeremy was at the airport, dropping off his customers. We spoke, I thanked him again for being such a great host, and I then headed in to the airport and got ready to fly home. The trip went like clockwork, I finished one book and started another, and got home in time to get to the JCC and help Dorothy with her 20-minute effort.
Wednesday….
I know it’s been a long blog entry, and the theme has wandered a bit here & there, but it’s still cycling related. I met most of these people through the bike. Montana exists in my past because of the bike. iBike is around because I ride. Owen and Lynelle live in a city where cycling to commute is common. Cycling is INTERESTING to people. Even Jeremy still rides.
It was a great, short, intense journey back in to my past, and I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to experience it. The only thing that would’ve made it complete would’ve been to see Jane, and maybe my college girlfriend, Lorri Frisbee. But I’ll get back up there, and I’ll plan it so that Jane and I get to rendezvous.
Photos are up at www.picasaweb.com/whareagle . I better git. Responsibilities are calling. I’ll post more after this weekend.