tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40075850779863338842024-03-06T00:08:08.617-08:00Runnin' on EmptyTrying to keep up with mah boy...JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-34835515516939005292011-11-25T23:18:00.000-08:002011-11-26T22:39:48.843-08:00'Running' to Feed the Hungry.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbleY0QZTrGFSbnGM9sdOHAmhnHgHvu9z1quRgSaLbQaDU-lOw4OjTblm4QDP_ZUN2-q7LH_TvDI6y8YL1fjVxH8kGtsze4zxekR-6lieGU5RyWpyx3NCdW-TCsNp5cj9SRy1gQcv6STc/s1600/Run+To+Feed+The+Hungry+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbleY0QZTrGFSbnGM9sdOHAmhnHgHvu9z1quRgSaLbQaDU-lOw4OjTblm4QDP_ZUN2-q7LH_TvDI6y8YL1fjVxH8kGtsze4zxekR-6lieGU5RyWpyx3NCdW-TCsNp5cj9SRy1gQcv6STc/s320/Run+To+Feed+The+Hungry+2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>So it's been awhile since I've felt like posting anything. Life certainly has a way. It's that 'way' that I sometimes have trouble finding. And sometimes it's not the 'finding' that troubles me, but the 'way' itself that's disagreeable...but no matter, rest assured, I always come around. <br />
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<br />
<a name='more'></a>Yesterday AJ, along with his girlfriend Naomi and I, participated in the 18th annual Run to Feed The Hungry. AJ and I first started this 'tradition' when he was just a little guy. In fact, I mentioned it to Naomi saying that AJ was still holding my hand the 1st time we'd participated. Being in a co-parenting relationship meant that it was a biennial (every other year) tradition, but a tradition none the less.<br />
<br />
I was stoked when AJ called and asked if I was going to register. "I just registered Naomi and I, are you going to do it with us?" Stammering, "Y-yeah, sure Bud, I'll jump online now" I said, swallowing that bullfrog that was trying to climb right outa my throat, I grabbed my laptop and reg'd for the 'Timed' adult 10K. Sympathetic flashes of pain ran down my legs as I imagined...running. Something I hadn't done in almost 3 months and when I did, it had been over a year before that, leaving me hobbled and in pain for no less than 4 days. 2 miles...yes 2 whole miles on a flippin' treadmill at that! Pathetic! I used to average @6'15" miles not that long ago. A far cry from record breaking, but not too shabby either. That 'bullfrog' was because it had been almost 4 months since AJ and I had spoken. "I miss you Dad, I've just been so busy with Water Polo, school, and work, but I think about you all the time." Like I said, life has...a way. <br />
<br />
"Would you like Facebook and Twitter updates?" said the saucy voice on the other end of the line. "HUH!?!" I replied. "Yeah, we offer free Facebook and Twitter updates with your registration, your friends and family will be able to track you...would you like them?" Oh great, now everyone would be able to see how bad I suck! Thoughts of the entire cycling community laughing and falling off their respective chairs, sofa's, loveseats, and trainers as they tracked my every step...as I'm sure they all would. Jens would blog about it, Levi would tweet, Johan would text me with, "Come on, keep going, you can do better than this!" Fabian would offer to have Andy or Frank hand up some 'Beans'. Big George would run by saying, "Get on!". I could hear Hernando over the loud speaker, "And there's Snovel, getting dropped by...everyone!" Judd would run up next to me, slowing to shake his head in disgust, knowing that I'd been drinking way too much beer as he and Heather would spryly trot off, pushing their jogger. Phipps would 'Unfriend' me, Mach would...mock me. JB would tell me to just stop because "Human's weren't meant to run!" Everybody laughing, "Cats and Dogs living together...MASS HYSTERIA!" ... "Uhmm...SURE! Why not!?" I replied.<br />
<br />
The nice thing about 'getting older' is that, if you're anything like me, you know for a FACT that you're in just as good, if not BETTER shape than you were before...even if it's the furthest thing from it. So, no REAL concern...really. Hh'I mean, after all, that 2 miles you did back 3 months ago was on the heels of a long, hard race season where you'd raced almost 45 races...so really, what kind of shape were you in? I mean, you're well into the 'fat' end of the off season, enjoying everything from your coffee and a scone on your leisurely Sunday mornings to a nightly beer...or two before and with dinner. You're no longer averaging 15-20 hrs a week on the bike, more like 6-8, 'when you feel like it' no less. I mean come-ON! IF...you're anything like me...right? :0/<br />
<br />
So, it's raining. For once, the weather man was right. First thing that comes to mind as I roll out of bed, stumble to the kitchen, start filling the kettle and look out the window...maybe AJ won't call. Second thing, glad I didn't plan on doing the Turkey Day Ride. Would much rather run in the rain than ride...okay, not really, but there is less clean up. <br />
<br />
What to wear? I had a pair of running shoes from '06 that were new in '05. All my 'running' gear had been either thrown out or given away in 'The Move' so I was down to some cycling socks, a pair of 2XU compression tights, a pair of Basketball shorts, and a short sleeve Pearl Izumi base layer. I did find a Craft 'used to be' water proof shell from '04 so I threw that on for good measure. Meanwhile AJ and Naomi show up looking as fit and hip as E-VER and we're off.<br />
<br />
After getting AJ and Naomi reg'd, little snafu when AJ tried earlier in the week, we made our way through the 26,000 or so other folks just in time to hear them announce that the 5K'ers were about to start so, we took off. Just as we start to catch our stride, some dude comes flying by like we were standing still, and of course, I shout out, "HEY...TAKE MY TIMING CHIP!" But, the jerk just kept on running. Whatev!<br />
<br />
We ran, we joked, we laughed. It was so much fun, until we came to the 2 mile marker.<br />
"2 MILES! ARE YOU F'ING KIDDING ME!?!"<br />
"C'mon Dad! We only have a little over 4 to go!"<br />
"THIS IS STUPID!"<br />
Just then, I look up and see Peets Coffee. I gotta tell ya, if it weren't for the slide show of years past flashing through my mind of AJ and I doing this run, I'd have stopped right then and there. But, I kept going....after a short session of me begging and pleading that we stop and 'enjoy our time together', but you don't need to know that. Oh.<br />
<br />
Soaked to the core, but just as warm as can be, we cross the line. We walk for a while, AJ with one arm around Naomi and the other around his Dad. We get to the car, drive over to Peets and grab a mocha and a scone and...enjoy each others company. We chat for a while, share a few laughs, and Naomi says, "I think we should make this a tradition." Absolutely.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading...and may you have a safe and happy Holiday season. </div>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-10420842576720457712011-06-25T10:27:00.000-07:002011-07-13T17:59:54.534-07:00Is the past behind us?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOkXIHeJWwGdTTWV-FrSh7hy53BhUygy5hjPl5up9OWF57AhyphenhyphenODwfBDZePYSXZoDD4uwdsynbn_wnByG04NT8Rqflo9sGf4nVy4ZfiiIdkc9pag328tc5w8VgSNkD5SkD7f6e9evw9ts/s1600/IMG00293-20110625-1104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOkXIHeJWwGdTTWV-FrSh7hy53BhUygy5hjPl5up9OWF57AhyphenhyphenODwfBDZePYSXZoDD4uwdsynbn_wnByG04NT8Rqflo9sGf4nVy4ZfiiIdkc9pag328tc5w8VgSNkD5SkD7f6e9evw9ts/s320/IMG00293-20110625-1104.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Had one of those dreams last night. You know, the ones where you tell yourself, "This can't be real," but you're so captivated that you just roll with it, then find yourself scratching and clawing, desperately grasping for that invisible thread, that thin air, that unreachable, imaginary something that will keep the door open and not allow it to end. Then, you wake up.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I found myself walking into AJ's classroom. He was about 5, maybe 6 years old and as beautiful as ever. I was tracking him from across the room, which seemed more like a gymnasium than a class room. I could only see his back as he was running, hiding from his Dai (AJ speak for Daddy, pronounced Daeeee). The other kids were all standing at attention, as if ready to say The Pledge of Allegiance or something, but AJ was not having any of it. I was trying to get his attention so I could silently scold him using very deliberate, and forceful hand gestures with facial expressions to match, but he knew I was there and was playing hide and seek. I was getting a little upset, and embarrassed. All of the other kids were paying attention, quietly standing at the ready, their proud parents looking on, then, turning to me with that, "Well, aren't you going to do something!?" look on their faces. As I stooped, peering through the dark forest of little slacks and blazers, I found him. His big, perfectly round head which rested on his little toothpick of a neck, his little long sleeve striped turtle neck shirt, his little corduroy pants, his little hiking boots, and his big bright blue eyes and adorable little smile that could stop air traffic.<br />
<br />
In an instant, I remembered all the times I was too quick to discipline, too quick to quash his little, innocent voice, not allowing him to express himself...all the times I was that ironfisted, overbearing, ignorant asshole of a Dad. As my eyes began to well up with tears and my heart began to sag with the heavy, heavy weight of guilt and regret...I began to play. Smiling and laughing, we both ran. The other kids were all a blur as my eyes focused on this little boy, this life affirming treasure of innocence, happiness, and joy. I played like I'd never played before.<br />
<br />
Then, with the rising sun, I was yanked from this wonderful dream, and thrust back into the reality of life.<br />
<br />
AJ and I have not been on solid speaking terms since January. There is truly nothing in this life that prepares you for this kind of thing. No personal, or professional relationship to refer to. No emotional disconnect. Just rough, raw, unexplored territory with no maps or guides of any kind, other than those whom you've chosen to share it with. But even their advise, though well intended, offers little solace. I hear how or what he's doing from those he keeps in contact with. We have moments, here and there where we can sit and just enjoy each others company, but those are few and far between. Most of the time I find myself holding back the impulse to lecture him on "Following through" and "Accountability" and, sometimes I just can't, resulting in another few weeks of not hearing from him.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the lesson of my dream.<br />
<br />
We can't go back, unfortunately, and repair the damage no matter how desperately we'd like to. I've always believed that it was foolish to think of such things, the past is behind us, I wouldn't want to change a thing...but now, I'm not so sure.<br />
<br />
Bike riding and racing was the one thing we shared, and now, even that's gone. Victim of a parenting tool gone wrong? Perhaps.<br />
<br />
I keep training and racing, waiting for the day he decides to come back in earnest. He's a grown man now, making his own decisions. Solo rides are the norm. Gone are the days of racing home so that we could get in our training rides. Gone are the days of me, trying to stay on his wheel during our intervals, well, those days were gone anyway as he'd grown stronger year after year. At first I'd use my ipod to help pass the time, but now, I find myself listening to the wind, waiting for the day that I hear, "Dad, wait up!"<br />
<br />
Parenting is a tough gig. But, someones gotta do it. Mistakes will be made, lessons will be learned...eventually...on both sides. Stubbornness is the ball and chain, ignorance is the penitentiary. <br />
<br />
I know things will get better as time passes. But man...some days are better than others. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-62564182636697097882011-02-20T20:55:00.000-08:002011-02-21T08:59:45.700-08:00VOS Stage Race.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANvjkBPAj3yX4jfMlq4zqHd-f9uMYj0V_dv_BRlMyoqeitj35yHiYsSkS9ZU1ekZxvgjQTw5ah1GkbtgQRg8seeFIdnqR1XWoI8pRpW5N8Xh6DsYty2_hInz_Vv1ecXgCSZTq8WcE82M/s1600/VOS+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANvjkBPAj3yX4jfMlq4zqHd-f9uMYj0V_dv_BRlMyoqeitj35yHiYsSkS9ZU1ekZxvgjQTw5ah1GkbtgQRg8seeFIdnqR1XWoI8pRpW5N8Xh6DsYty2_hInz_Vv1ecXgCSZTq8WcE82M/s320/VOS+2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Being on time is something I could get used to. Getting up at <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1298173742_0" style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;">4 am</span> to get to Nicks to meet Erin and Wilson by 5...not so much. But there I was, early...of all things! <br />
<br />
First time doing this race for both JB and I. Having Wilson and Nick there to fill us in on the details of each stage was helpful. I guess you really don't know what you'll have to bring to the table until you're sitting there, fork in hand, ready to throw down so I really didn't know what to expect. JB and I were reg'd for the 2's and Wilson, the 3's. First up for the 14 mile TT was Wilson with a start time of <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1298173742_1" style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;">12:49</span>. He was off and running while JB and I warmed up. I could feel the back of my throat parched and couldn't seem to quench my thirst. I rolled up to check in, JB was already off and running. I was just in time to step up onto the start platform with 2 in front of me. Starting from a platform, another 1st for me. Wasn't sure what to expect. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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Style points! Unfortunately, they weren't giving time bonuses, or points of any kind for style, or I think we may have had a bit of an advantage, cause man did I look <i>fast!</i> I love the new skin suit. Felt super slippery! Turns out, "looking" and "feeling" fast, doesn't actually equate to "being" <i>FAST!</i> Who knew!?<br />
<br />
"Is this your first time doing this TT?" asked the official sitting at the end of the ramp. Now that I think about it, I don't even think I answered him, and, now that I think about it...how wude! 5...4........go! I mash down on the pedals and sprint down the ramp and, surprisingly, hit the tarmac so smoothly that I really didn't even notice. "Nice" I thought as I level out and assume the position. I was borrowing AJ's TT bike which was set up for him, of course and I didn't want to mess with the set up. All I did was drop the seat about a half inch and it seemed to fit me pretty good. I mean, aside from being totally stretched out over the cockpit, the seat being too far back, my elbows on the pads instead of my forearms, and the fact that it felt completely foreign and made me feel like I was a 12 year old borrowing his Dads bike, it was perfect! <br />
<br />
Now, going into the TT, I knew not to expect much, especially since my TT training up to that point consisted of me, staring at the TT bike in the garage and....uuuummmm....the Madera TT? That, combined with 'daydreaming' of pulling a tremendous TT out of my ars, I thought I had a pretty decent chance...right!? I felt pretty good, all things considered and tried to conjure up TT's of old. "Relax...breathe...pedal. I had nothing to tell me how fast I was going or even what my HR was...but I was sure I was doing 30...at least! Had to be!<br />
<br />
"So long as no one passes you, you're doing fine!" JB's words kept repeating themselves in my head as I tried to find a rhythm. unbelievably, at least to me, I kept hearing the 'Whoosh-Whoosh' of a carbon disk coming up my left side. I was shocked, and more than a little deflated at the fact that I was already getting passed by my .30 guy only a minute or so into it as I tried to keep him from passing. I blocked the negative thoughts as best I could and pressed on. Then I started getting pissed! I'm thinking, "THIS F'er's drafting off me!" So I cranked as hard as I could to get him off my wheel, but, by the sound echoing throughout by helmet, he remained right off to my left side...and likely, smirking at my effort. So, knowing that if I turned my head I'd be taking wind and, as a result effectively turning my brand new, state of the art Giro TT helmet into a sail, I threw my head to the side ready to chastise this Jerk, and saw nothing. I cranked my head to the other side, thinking he'd finally decided to pass me, and took as deep a breathe as I possibly could ready to blast him...nothing. The sound I was hearing was my own flippin wheel!<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-small; font-style: italic;">Me - "Hey Patrick, it's Jason. How's it going?" <br />
P - "Good man, what's up?" <br />
Me - "Well Wilson said you might have a disk I could borrow for VOS this weekend." <br />
P - "Oh REALLY!?!" "He said that huh!?!"<br />
Me - "Yeah, is it cool? If not, no worries bro. <br />
P - "Well...did you tell Wilson that he owns a BIKE SHOP!?!?!"...laughter...</span><br />
<br />
The echo of the disk was resonating up through my TT helmet and I'd completely forgotten that I was using one. Yet 2 more firsts for me...a disk, and a TT helmet...at least a half decent one.<br />
<br />
I felt like an idiot! On top of that, I thought I was going to pass out from my attempt to drop....myself. :0/ I settled down into a rhythm and finally, after what seemed to be about 20 min., but in reality turned out to be something like...20 min :0/ I finally hit the turn around. I was passed by my .30 guy about half way back and managed to keep him @ 50m in front of me. I couldn't see out of my right eye (dry desserts don't mix with contact lenses) so I strained to see the finish tent off in the distance and gave it all I had for the last 300m and crossed the line. 57th with a whopping 34:39! Like I said...at least I looked fast! That super slippery feeling must have been the half tube of chamois butter I slathered all over.....the lower half of my body.<br />
<br />
JB on the other hand cranked out a smokin' 31:56 which was good enough for 13th overall out of 91.<br />
<br />
Wilson also cranked out a respectable 33:21 and sat 17th overall in the 3's going into the RR. <br />
<br />
It was Sizzlers as we rolled into town <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1298173742_2" style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;">Friday night</span>, so I wasn't surprised when we rolled up to the Sweet Tomato for...wait for it.....another Buffet! Strait Up Town baby! "Where'd ya git dem chicken wangs?" Stuffed our faces with enough salad to sustain a large rabbit colony and followed it up with small pail of frozen yogurt! Game on! (dreamt about wrapping my arms around a ginormous Double-Double Animal style that night and woke up licking my forearm)<br />
<br />
Made it to the RR with time to spare. Was forecast for 80 deg with a wind. The wind seemed to increase dramatically 5 min after we arrived...or, maybe it was just wherever I was standing. Got ready and rolled around for a few minutes before lining up. As I said, JB was sitting 13th so the plan was to try and get him off the front with Mike Jasinski, a young up and comer with Fremont Bank, who was sitting 20th overall, and maybe a few others. We roll out neutral for a bit before it started to ratchet up a bit. With 91 participants in our group and the center line strictly enforced, it was going to be tough moving up, or so we thought, so we maintained position in the top 15 or 20 of the pack. <br />
<br />
- Lesson learned - keep the rider you're trying to protect in front of you because if he flats and you're the only other teammate he has, he may have to wait a few minutes for a wheel. In windy conditions...no bueno! And, you'll have no idea if you're in front of him.<br />
<br />
I figured I'd stay close enough to the front to at least be able to react if something promising went up without J in it. I still haven't trained my eye to be able to pick out our kits in a bunch, at least a bunch of nervous twenty-somethings all looking to make some noise, and, as a result, I lose track of J before hitting the 1st turn.<br />
<br />
We hit turn 1 and into the crosswind section and it went off. It starts to string out pretty quickly and I'm guttered instantly. Tiptoeing the edge of the road I manage to find enough of a draft without having to venture too far out of my comfort zone before it calmed back down. Evidently J had flatted shortly after that, and of course, I had no idea. We hit the tailwind section and I thought we'd get a bit of a respite, not a chance. We were flying! Averaged @ 25mph up the climb which was deceptively long. It was immediately strung out and I found myself weaving through traffic trying to find a wheel, but the only wheels to be found were hurling towards me giving me barely enough time to move out of their way. It was absolutely obscene! I saw Nick O, who was in a "spot of bother" and didn't even have the time to offer an encouraging word. We hit the crest of the climb as I take a deep breathe and relax, again thinking we'd get at least a bit of a breather, I mean, after all, this isn't the Masters 35+123's race. WRONG! It's full throttle again and I'm crouching as small as I could sucking every bit of draft I could find. It slowed a bit before turn 3 but ratchets right back up as soon as we round it and I'm out of the saddle once again. It slows right before the feed zone and we settle in to do it all over again. I'm out of the saddle, straining to look around and can't find J anywhere. I ask a few other Norcal riders and no one knows where he is. <br />
<br />
After flatting J had to wait, I think he said a full minute(?) before the follow vehicle pulled up for a wheel change. He ended up chasing for a full 40 min! Herculean effort if there ever was one. Makes me wonder if I'd have the fortitude to do that. I think now, hearing that he did, will help me dig just a little deeper in the event it ever does happen. He found me right before turn 2 with a, "Hey Jas!" "Hey J, how ya doin'" "Not bad considering I just had to chase for the last 40 minutes!" "Oh sh!t!" "Well, lets get you out of the wind!" I move to his outside just before turn 2. <br />
<br />
Again it ratchets up once we hit the tailwind section and, again, I lose J. This time it slows just a bit before hitting the climb so I start to look around. Greg White, who's there with his brother Russ, is right next to me and says, "He's four wheels in front of you bro!" Cool. <br />
<br />
To the drops and out of the saddle we go as it starts stringing out about half way up the climb. All at once I hear that bone chilling sound of Carbon and precious metals hitting and scraping across the tarmac. I'm barely able to slam on my brakes, sliding my back tire, I narrowly miss getting caught up in the mayhem. I quickly glance over, scanning the wreckage looking for J, and can't see him so I focus my attention up the road and commit to clawing my way back to the pack that's now seemingly strewn all across the road and in complete disarray. It's deja vu all over again as I'm weaving through riders who've either thrown in the towel, or are taking a bit of a ciesta before plunging into the cavernous recesses of the daunting domain of pain. Not I...I jump in without even so much as a glance to see if I'm gonna hit any rocks, and into the deep end I go.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm able to jump on the tail end of the small chase group with Mark Deterline at the helm and rejoin the back of the pack just before the bottom of the descent. I throw myself wide into the turn and am able to skirt the outside of the group and back to the front 15 or so and breathe deeply for a few minutes before I start scanning for J. He's nowhere. Sh!t! I know for a fact that he was in front of me going into the climb. I maintain position in hopes that he'll find me once again, but that sneaking suspicion weighs heavy...he was in that crash. <br />
<br />
We hit the tail wind section again and, you guessed it, full throttle. This is awesome! Someone's smart enough to drill it just when everyone's thinking about resting. I feel the slightest hint of a grin wrinkle my right cheek as I hit the drops. We hit the bottom of the climb and all at once, the same damned sound I'd heard the previous lap, in almost the same place, comes roaring at me. I find myself grabbing handfuls of brake and throwing my bike wide to the left and, thankfully, out of harms way. Of course, as a result, there I was looking up and seeing the remains of the pack scattered all over the hill like a fist full of marbles. Grabbing my drops, gripping them firmly, I put my head down and begin to throw my bike all over the road, lurching up the hill. Just as I'm passing the <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1298173742_3" style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;">Finish line</span>, I hear a familiar voice, "Lets GO JAS!" and my earlier fears were confirmed. J was out. Damn. <br />
<br />
I dig. I reach the crest of the hill and the gap between pack, or what's left of it, and myself stops getting smaller. I'm just about to sit up and try to recover a bit, when I see Torey Philips of the Specialized Jr. Race Team pull through. He, one of his teammates and I were able to weave our way through traffic and latch back on to the main group, again right before turn 3. His frustration was evident. He was sitting 10th overall coming into the road race and, well, not knowing the particulars of their team strategy, I'll say nothing more about that. He's a strong, and humble young man and I look forward to watching him progress right along side my boy in years to come.<br />
<br />
I was running out of water coming through the feed zone on the 5th lap so I reached out and grabbed a bottle of water. Not to be confused with a water bottle, this was a regular, store bought bottle of water with a twist off top that I was having trouble with, so, I just bit the damned thing right off and started to guzzle. I reach up and tip it over the back of my helmet, and just as I start to dump it in an attempt to cool myself a bit, I hear a guy complaining to a teammate that he'd tried twice to get a bottle of water and wasn't able to, so, I extend my arm and offer the other half of my bottle. You'd have thought that I'd offered the guy a Mexican Mocha from <a href="http://folsombike.com/articles/folsom-grind-pg73.htm">Folsom Grind</a> with the way in which he went on. "No problem man." I reply as I hand him the slobbery lid. <br />
<br />
The finish ended the same way as every lap before it. As I rose out of the saddle to sprint my right quad locked up in defiance, so back to the saddle I went to spin out a seated sprint to the line bumping me from 57th to 35th. The dry climate was definitely taking it's toll. <br />
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J had broken his bars and bent the rear derailer hanger, but was none the worse for wear, save a few scrapes on his palms and knee...oh, and a sweet scrape from the pads of his helmet on the front of his head, leaving him with two little marks which perfectly resembled little devil horns. Strangely enough, there were no marks of any kind on his helmet. Must have gone head first into the south end of a north sliding cyclist...wait, that didn't sound right. <br />
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<span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1298173742_4" style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;">Saturday evening</span> we ended up at Chili's where I threw down an avocado burger which seemed to stay with me well into the morning. No doubt due to the fact that every bit of moisture had been sucked right out of my body by the arid desert climate. Woke up early the next morning with a splitting headache and no appetite. I force down a half a bowl of oatmeal and, ignorantly, a cup of coffee...what can I say...I'm a junkie. Off to the crit we go.<br />
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With J being out, and the fact that I felt a bit like twice smeared shite, I had instinctively switched to survival mode and had already mentally resigned myself to staying safe and getting in a good workout. Mike Jasinski was able to get himself into the winning break the day before and leapfrogged from 20th right up to 4th overall. I thought that <i>maybe</i>, if anything, I'd try to help him either move up in the GC or at least maintain his 4th place. That was a BIG maybe. <br />
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After a quick warm up, we headed for he start line. Our field had been reduced from 91 at the start of the Road Race, to under 70 for the start of the crit. Right from the 1st lap, there were kids out there half my age and younger throwing their rubber bodies into each other in efforts to avoid the manhole covers for sh!t's sake, and bunny hoping the longitudinal cracks in the road on the back side. It was one of the fastest, yet sketchiest crits I've done to date. Someone said that our avg speed was over 29 mph. I'd moved up toward the front a few times, but would inevitably have someone freak out in front of me and slam on his brakes for no apparent reason and watch, as the pack, almost in its entirety, thunder by me. So, I relegated myself to doing as best I could to stay out of trouble. Which I was able to do. Nick O pretty much stayed up towards the front the whole race ended up grabbing 2nd place with a beastly sprint. I Ended up 32 out of 62 finishers overall and hopefully a bit of fitness heading into Snelling and, for most, the "official" start to the 2011 race season. JB is riding right out of his gourd right now is incredibly strong and is absolutely ravenous. <br />
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Fielded some pretty solid compliments on our kits out there so that's always nice. That's not to mention getting a start on my wicked tan lines!<br />
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This was a bit of a bitter sweet weekend for me, as AJ was supposed to join us, but unfortunately, was unable to. There's always next year, and I see myself returning for some more early season fun in the sun.<br />
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Super special thanks to Wilson and Erin for putting up with us for the weekend. And to my roomie JB for putting up with me as well. Yes, I like to take long showers...sometimes twice a day...and I also like long walks along the beach and sunsets too. :0)<br />
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Thanks for reading.</div>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-75201836876079171372011-01-02T22:07:00.000-08:002011-01-05T18:29:57.420-08:00Welcoming the New Year with open arms......while giving 2010 a swift kick in the ass as it ran out the back door!<br />
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Nah, 2010 was another fun year for my boy and I. AJ grew stronger as the season progressed earning his CAT 2 upgrade in less than 5 months as well as a trip to Canada to race for a week with, and against some of the strongest Jr. racers in the World. Unfortunately Dad wasn't able to go, but I was there in spirit. He was awarded the MVP of the DBC Jr. Race Team. He competed against the strongest Jr's in the nation up in Bend OR where we met a "Cool as the other side of the pillow" kind of couple who opened up their home for us for the week. I continued to throw down for my team in the M35+123's while earning myself a CAT 2 upgrade as well. We both had a year full of learning and growth, both physically and emotionally. We continued to meet new people, make new friends, and strengthen the good friendships we already had. <br />
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With the new year comes new challenges and...new opportunities. AJ was recruited to an up and coming Pro 1-2 squad called Fremont Bank. A solid squad led by another "Cool as the other side of the pillow" kind of couple in Mark and Susanne with Nick O in the co-pilot seat of this talented band of Rockstars. AJ's the youngest rider on the squad and as such, will have the opportunity to learn from some of the more seasoned veterans in the Pro12 peloton.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">(<span style="color: red;">Disclaimer</span> - The photo below does not represent team Fremont Bank, It's just a bunch of folks who like wearing baby blue kits. :) Though, some of the riders may be on Team FB...and some may not)</span></span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurfN5wAG3WBg6DbX69DTyLACRhDxjuRG42PsPekv7EaJcML36Bq2TGbt8bQ842dkeic4_6twGvFtnaJu_VcBlnzmtcfJ_pJ4ItB4buqkjwS6zzXhq1ocapuH3yrRWlLzLqnXLjpyQ4z4/s1600/AJ%2527s+posse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurfN5wAG3WBg6DbX69DTyLACRhDxjuRG42PsPekv7EaJcML36Bq2TGbt8bQ842dkeic4_6twGvFtnaJu_VcBlnzmtcfJ_pJ4ItB4buqkjwS6zzXhq1ocapuH3yrRWlLzLqnXLjpyQ4z4/s320/AJ%2527s+posse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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As for me...I, along with 3 of my teammates, was also recruited to one of the classiest teams in Norcal Racing.<a href="http://folsombike.com/about/masters-race-team-pg209.htm"> Mercedes-Benz/Folsom Bike.</a> Even before I'd known their names, I was blogging about their displays of selflessness and efforts as a "TEAM" at both the Snelling and Madera Road Races. They were a strong Road Race team, but were looking for more support in the Criteriums, which is where we came in. For me, it seemed to be the natural progression of things. Not only do I get an opportunity to continue to race with 3 of the coolest teammates a guy could ask for, but I'll have the added bonus of being a part of something truly special. Wilson and Erin at <a href="http://folsombike.com/">Folsom Bike & Grind</a> have really out done themselves in the way of support and sponsorship and are both just too school for cool!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54v3WS-NPhxTgkV0MIOdwi5Dp02iXk2XTpE9iK4MhsK_KHSDIUI4zcD4hh4crsCLKsvhTi-93vaLQuDkcre3bzScRCCb8wei_nImAWYqVDOm0jrOtDURDsj8D_-x0wL4T621aOBQieIs/s1600/IMG00156-20101204-1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54v3WS-NPhxTgkV0MIOdwi5Dp02iXk2XTpE9iK4MhsK_KHSDIUI4zcD4hh4crsCLKsvhTi-93vaLQuDkcre3bzScRCCb8wei_nImAWYqVDOm0jrOtDURDsj8D_-x0wL4T621aOBQieIs/s320/IMG00156-20101204-1000.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Yes, the season of change has come and gone...the time to build is upon us. Better batten down the hatches....cause a storms a comin'.<br />
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Stay tuned...<br />
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~ jjsJJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-17727060338506787982010-07-25T13:17:00.000-07:002010-07-25T16:32:43.475-07:00My how time fly's, flies...crap Idunno.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
So, April was the last time I had the time, energy, or inspiration to write anything. Well, I've certainly had the inspiration, just lacking in the other two departments. <br />
Where to begin...I guess I could start with the AJ officially leaving his Dad in the dust a few months ago and CAT'ing up to a 2! And on his 18th birthday no less. It was something special to watch as the entire Pro 1-2-3 field sang Happy Birthday to mah boy before his very 1st race as a CAT 2 out at the Golden State Crit.<br />
This past June AJ competed in his first ever Jr. National Championships up in Bend OR. (see pic <---)<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNwQ6u_uA0n-2CkWeNUOErTb-yaohzJNDWU7ySzH41n0YFHC9e8-AQilb_6aOVTc1GpqSIs7E1ocwjm3BSLX_9i9sx9QaVrtl5nNZqDc7dsJYBZNh5K8BUaS7hvuCfJNZI3lNqcBlDi4/s1600/AJ...contemplating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNwQ6u_uA0n-2CkWeNUOErTb-yaohzJNDWU7ySzH41n0YFHC9e8-AQilb_6aOVTc1GpqSIs7E1ocwjm3BSLX_9i9sx9QaVrtl5nNZqDc7dsJYBZNh5K8BUaS7hvuCfJNZI3lNqcBlDi4/s320/AJ...contemplating.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AJ...Jr. Nats Bend OR...contemplating.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>But I guess the biggest news, of course, is AJ making the 2010 Mid Atlantic Development Team for <a href="http://www.tourabitibi.qc.ca/index_en.php">Le Tour de l'Abitibi</a><span class="fullpost"> which is basically the Tour De France of Jr. racing. Teams from all over the world will converge in the city of Val-d 'Or Canada in Quebec and compete in a 7 day stage race with no rest days. </span><br />
<span class="fullpost"> The team is a composite squad put together from Jr.'s all over the nation. AJ submitted his race resume a few months back and lo and behold, he was chosen. He, along with 4 other boys from around the U.S. will join forces and race against the best Jr. racers from all around the globe. Sadly, Dad can't go with him, but it'll be good for the both of us... </span><br />
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<a name='more'></a><span class="fullpost">So, obviously I started writing this about 2 weeks ago...I have become the KING of procrastination! I've started over a dozen posts before this in the past months and maybe some day, I'll post them. Maybe it'll be in one mass post...a collage if you will, little unfinished snippets of the happenings of my life. As if...</span><br />
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<span class="fullpost">This past June we ventured up north to Bend OR for the Jr. National Championships where we met a fantastic couple who were gracious enough to put us up for the week. Sloan and Jenny Anderson are 2 of the coolest people you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkLv2YcNvwIASuAW2hyi0Y-isEPIXrjGdyclGo3oE3yQuHh7QhkWlvuGtIR1aIQlGaWKIgZrdtSl-Ot7RbkzZ9BvcBtdCvpQnfc0i7wngFZPHE2MSZ2UJhvbBw8tS84OPqZvQeR2VgFE/s1600/Jenny+and+Sloan+Anderson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkLv2YcNvwIASuAW2hyi0Y-isEPIXrjGdyclGo3oE3yQuHh7QhkWlvuGtIR1aIQlGaWKIgZrdtSl-Ot7RbkzZ9BvcBtdCvpQnfc0i7wngFZPHE2MSZ2UJhvbBw8tS84OPqZvQeR2VgFE/s320/Jenny+and+Sloan+Anderson.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny and Sloan</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="fullpost">It was AJ's first time lining up against this level of competition and he was ready for the challenge. In just his 3rd season of racing it was the 1st time AJ had the eligibility to participate. It was a huge learning experience for both of us. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWzlMSseWL9zs37GJQt5M7KUvzlwasMXajVg03fRLhGCV33n1tb73NGKtTl8doQoKIyxn6UZyC7UGNyUeYe9OqdWi23d9_qXtoSX2bT6wlaHongjrISNcnEOSr3YxuoQDRRcpHsSlpuuc/s1600/Juss+chillin+before+the+RR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWzlMSseWL9zs37GJQt5M7KUvzlwasMXajVg03fRLhGCV33n1tb73NGKtTl8doQoKIyxn6UZyC7UGNyUeYe9OqdWi23d9_qXtoSX2bT6wlaHongjrISNcnEOSr3YxuoQDRRcpHsSlpuuc/s320/Juss+chillin+before+the+RR.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice gloves! </td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="fullpost">Words cannot begin to describe or explain the feeling of helplessness that a Dad experiences when he has to deal with a failed exchange in the feed zone. Turning and looking down at your boys water bottle, with the energy gels neatly attached with the rip off tops under the threads of the lid so he could just reach down and rip it from the bottle and consume it with ease, laying in the dirt, as he rides up the road parched and hungry and there's nothing you can do. I have to say, working the feed zone is 10 times more stressful than racing...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7hwb7DRUkaS7TeAfUUaWFguvp3QIY5gkzR7wyadj59TQsIjGSsgqlWINyv_E0aAkry0n9xx56-Vbef5mF2CeG58MAlraJDCwmfN4lN7s-Aemobbixen-sS6we00tS7m63vpNsFEmJfc/s1600/me+and+mah+boy+atop+Pilot+Butte+in+Bend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7hwb7DRUkaS7TeAfUUaWFguvp3QIY5gkzR7wyadj59TQsIjGSsgqlWINyv_E0aAkry0n9xx56-Vbef5mF2CeG58MAlraJDCwmfN4lN7s-Aemobbixen-sS6we00tS7m63vpNsFEmJfc/s320/me+and+mah+boy+atop+Pilot+Butte+in+Bend.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AJ was standing on his tippy-toes...</td></tr>
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This was atop Pilot Butte just south of town. One of the few moments we weren't chasing sleep and hunting for food and coffee. </span><br />
<span class="fullpost">Though I didn't race, I ate like I did. I must have gained 5 lbs. in the 5 days we were up there. Feeding a hungry 18 year old has residual effects. I mean, who could just sit there and watch as he shovels all that yummy goodness without joining in on the fun! For example...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg81eWB-23uMlgy51GqRE8RU2p7VZ7R-d1kbKk9h4kQHbRaGqTvagN8A-W0gLS-DYvKUkKV7KGHi7tLGIX0lM9YvrfUf_kve9oOJMTC4in3BCOyKhRTyw2pre9NOcDpPI7yzdlJGrgMpo/s1600/food+of+the+Gods%21+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg81eWB-23uMlgy51GqRE8RU2p7VZ7R-d1kbKk9h4kQHbRaGqTvagN8A-W0gLS-DYvKUkKV7KGHi7tLGIX0lM9YvrfUf_kve9oOJMTC4in3BCOyKhRTyw2pre9NOcDpPI7yzdlJGrgMpo/s320/food+of+the+Gods%21+.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uhm...HYEAH!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="fullpost">Right!?! </span><br />
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<span class="fullpost">Good people, good food, and good coffee.....what more do you want? Maybe a dash of ethnic diversity...but hey, you can't have everything.</span><br />
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<span class="fullpost">We had an awesome time and look forward to returning next year...</span><br />
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<span class="fullpost">Master Nationals will be in Bend for the next 2 years....yeayuh!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHykgTVrJ4HLu3FxDEKqklKMOvzPOH1oGsZypOJpXc6Mpb5JaA3Qho9e_xE8UAVKGj3R0iKoZk90Vnp8eAAJp7OuY-Ha6B-hrpZBPOd5l3qoWFHrc7mIS3CtgO7azg8753ntzh8rgKjw/s1600/Pre+race+race+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHykgTVrJ4HLu3FxDEKqklKMOvzPOH1oGsZypOJpXc6Mpb5JaA3Qho9e_xE8UAVKGj3R0iKoZk90Vnp8eAAJp7OuY-Ha6B-hrpZBPOd5l3qoWFHrc7mIS3CtgO7azg8753ntzh8rgKjw/s320/Pre+race+race+face.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AJ and Zach...pre-race Race Face!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iLhzypn5QXCz9wKUXzvOMxN-ByHf7nmuTHYJ5WCRU_XDRo8RIzwhreV-J2ZzqI4_9UFiG6DnkXGdfSMnpZCjkOzMxGABrga1pkxuXeI59P9RvMnc_cj5thsPU_f9GOiwgGquY7V4nrA/s1600/That's+so+pro%21+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iLhzypn5QXCz9wKUXzvOMxN-ByHf7nmuTHYJ5WCRU_XDRo8RIzwhreV-J2ZzqI4_9UFiG6DnkXGdfSMnpZCjkOzMxGABrga1pkxuXeI59P9RvMnc_cj5thsPU_f9GOiwgGquY7V4nrA/s320/That's+so+pro%21+.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's so pro! Thanks to Judd, AJ's coach!<br />
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</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-6439500834799804812010-04-04T10:17:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:45:50.310-07:00Top Sport Stage raceWhew! What a weekend! It's been a difficult month or so of hard racing for me. I'd been watching the reg for this race and wasn't sure whether or not I was going to do it, but after watching teammates Judd, Dan, Robin, and Steve throw down in the P12's out at Land Park and Jones'n super hard to be out there with them...that, combined with Judd rolling up afterwards and pointing at me with a forceful, "You need to be out here with us!" then following it up with a, "Don't you want to help AJ out in the P12's too!?!" sort of jump started me in to seriously thinking about getting my upgrade points.<br />
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AJ was to be with his mom this weekend so I had free reign to do what I wanted. No teammates to work for or to turn to for help so it was a bit of a test as well to see if I could do anything on my own. I pulled the trigger the night before the event. Luckily they'd extended the reg. M35+123's only showed 3 registered, so, 3's it was.<br />
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The venue was awesome! The Circuit, TT, and RR were all easily accessible from Copper Town Square where the parking was perfect. Think Back to the Future's clock tower for a visual of the quaint town square. Great coffee shop with free wifi 20' from the start line of the Circuit, which, as you all should know by now, was extremely difficult for me being that I hadn't even had half of my normal caffein intake for the morning. :) Not one to really ever want to compete against Jr's for lots of reasons, (unless I'm trying to help out my boy) I was a bit apprehensive about registering for the 3's. Luckily there were only 5 or so in the field, one of which was Alex Freund racing with his Dad. One of my rules as a Masters racer is that if there's a chance to help out a Jr., no matter who he is, do it, within reason that is. After all, these kids are the future of our sport and you never know what they'll remember. A negative impression is not one that I wish to leave. In most cases, especially in regards to Crits, these kids are racing their 2nd race of the day on tired legs after throwing down in the Jr's race for which, at least those that are 3's and above, can't earn upgrade points. So, the boys only chance to earn points towards their CAT 2 is in the E3 races against not only young guns on their way up the ranks but older guys, like myself, who's time has come and gone and are only looking for personal glory...all of whom have fresh legs. So, you understand my apprehension in registering for the E3 race. <br />
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The course was a 5 mile loop starting with a quick 6 turn loop through the town square then a fast stretch leaving town with a few rollers and a 180 at the furthest point and an uphill finish with better than excellent pavement. I have to say that it was one if the coolest courses I've done. There were 30 guys in 3's. We had a handful of Masters but most were fit and fast 20 somethings looking for points themselves.<br />
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We were set to do 7-8 laps depending on the time. There were 3 primes of .5 time bonuses at laps 6, 4, and 2. The first 2 laps were pretty tame. Kovaris had 5 guys, Metromint had 2, DBC had 2, Roaring Mouse had 3, Taleo, 2 etc. There were a few flyers that stayed out for a half a lap or so, but nothing serious. With about 4 to go I jumped in a 4 man break with Paul Drywall, a 35+er with MS, Bob Delp also a 35+er with Vitamin Water, and one other, can't remember him though. Paul and I kept the pressure on the others and made sure we stayed tight and steady. With 2 to go, a few guys were able to bridge up. A DBC guy, Teeter (who'd later win the TT), and young Alex Freund. Together we were able to maintain a 10" gap. Delp started taking breaks and I was all over him. "You'd better not be saving for the F'ing sprint!" He looked super fit with a classic "sprinters" build, short and stocky. "Don't worry, I'm not!" I was working my butt off and so was Paul. With about 200m from the finish line Delp came around and assured us that he was just "pulling through" but I wasn't taking any chances and jumped at around the 100m mark and took the last prime to the ringing of the final lap bell. Rolling through the town square for the last lap at the front I began to wonder if we'd be able to stay out and if I'd burned too many matches. We all came back together and surprisingly picked up right where we left off. Paul was a huge asset in the break, strong steady pulls and helping me keep everyone steady. We hit the turnaround and saw the chase hammering. I was happy to see that the Kovaris guys were nowhere to be seen as they were oddly just sitting in. I thought for sure they'd send everyone to the front to bring us back. I started yelling, "Here they come!" "We can make this stick fellas!" and promptly began rallying them to "grab that wheel" while I sat at the back with Alex on my wheel trying to make sure he had legs for the finish. We sat out a few rotations before jumping back in. <br />
With about 300m to go we started slowing a bit as everyone started looking around waiting for someone to jump. I pulled through one last time and sat around 3rd wheel with Alex somewhere behind me. Suddenly everyone seemed to relax. I followed suit, sitting up, I dropped my head and took a deep "exhausted" breath as I nonchalantly turned for a weary look over my shoulder. Turning back, with cat-like reflexes I hit the drops and drilled it at the 200m mark. I hit it with everything I had for about 100m before taking a peek back as I hit the base of the final riser up to the finish. They were coming hard but I still had about a 30m gap. I was way over geared for the sprint up to the line but didn't want to risk shifting and having a mechanical so I just hammered the big gear. I felt my legs shredding to pieces with every crank and threw my bike across the line with barely a bike length for the win. The first for me since I was a 4 with DBC almost 2 years ago. At first I didn't believe it. I started wondering if there was a break that somehow got up the road without me knowing. I started looking up the road and around the town square for other riders in my field but didn't see any. "Did I just win that!?!" I asked myself. It sank in as riders came up and started congratulating me. Guess I'm just not used to it. My best finish in a M35+123's race was a 6th at Madera RR up till then. It wasn't quite like racing against the thoroughbreds of the M35+123's, but I'll take it. Points in the bank.<br />
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I had 3 hours to sit around and wait before my TT. So, Dawn and I kicked it at the coffee shop till around 12:30 before heading back over to the car to start warming up. My legs felt like SHIT! I spun for about 30 min before even getting my HR up just trying to loosen them up. I'd talked to a few P12's about the course while I was spinning. They told me that it was hard and that there was never really a point where it got easier. The wind had picked up since they did theirs and they were still warning me about it so I tried to prepare myself mentally. Supposedly it was mainly flat with a few rollers and bumpy sections with one stinger about 3/4 of the way in before the turn around. If I was smart, I would have just spun the TT and saved myself for the RR. I tried doing that but my .30 guy was just dangling out there like a friggin' carrot...or mechanical rabbit so I stupidly tried to chase him down. I stubbornly stayed in my big ring and stood up just before reaching the top of the "stinger" on the way out and felt the legs twinge. I immediately sat back down and didn't try that again. I passed my .30 guy at the 2k sign and powered the rest of the way. Decided not to wait for the results and headed strait back to the car, loaded up and headed for the hotel in Sonora. We had a great room overlooking main st. in Sonora, but, one thing to remember for next time...try to get a room that isn't right across the street from a bar. Dawn slept like a rock, but I on the other hand didn't sleep until they closed down. There must have been some drunk chick flashing cars as they went by or something. I can't tell you how many times I was awoken by a, "WOOOHOOHOOO! HE-HE-HE!" Think Elphaba from the Wizard of Oz, yeah that same tone and crackle ALL FLIPPIN' NIGHT! The visual that you're getting right now, try having that in your head as you're trying to sleep... :0/<br />
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Hit the RR course about 45 min before the start. Was a chilly morning, but the sky was blue and the wind was minimal. Checked the results and I was sitting in 16th place overall. Told you, my legs were trashed and they didn't feel all that much better. Rolled around a bit before the start to try and loosen up the molasses that had pooled in my lower extremities but figured I'd warm up out on the course. The temperature crept up quite a bit just sitting there before the start. The course was a 23 mile loop with 2 tight 180 turn arounds and a T intersection that we'd go through 3 times each lap. Thought it was going to be a cluster F with all the groups out on the course at the same time, but, surprisingly, it was smooth and incident free. Right at around the 5 mile mark of the first lap some jerkoff drilled it up the hill to the s turn. The same S turn used in the Copperopolis RR course. It was on some of the roughest roads I've raced on yet. In fact, there wasn't even roads on some sections, just busted up blacktop and dirt. Fast forward to the last lap. We all stayed together until the S turn before the long flat crosswind section. The same 2 guys who won our TT with faster times than the P12's went to the front and put the hammer down one right after the other. I got stuck too far back and was closing my 2nd gap with about 50m from the break when a Metromint guy popped and was pedaling backwards coming right at me. I yelled up to stay right, so he swerves left, then realized what I'd said and swerved back right just as I was passing him causing me to hit the brakes. Yelling every cuss word I knew, I pulled at my bar, fighting my bike and throwing it all over the road in an effort to catch on I glance back and see someone on my wheel and yell, "C'mon man!" as I flap my left elbow. It's a Tiene Duro Jr. and he pulls around me and gutters it. "Thanks kid!" I think as I watch him close the gap and jump back on. Little did I know that he'd flatted and was using my spare wheel that he'd grabbed out of the follow vehicle. Kid didn't even thank me later for getting him back up to the lead group, or for use of my wheel. Kids these days.<br />
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The chase, at least for me, for all intents and purposes was over right then and there, but I still tried solo for another few miles, thinking that at any moment now they'd sit up and I'd have a chance. It never happened and I just watched as the gap increased little by little. I sat up and fell back to a Webcore guy who had that same Metromint guy on his wheel. After a bit of yelling, we pulled it together and were rotating at a good pace and seemingly beginning to pull ourselves up. We hit one of the really bad stretches of road where there was a gravel section about 2' wide for the whole length if it. just to the left side. I'd noticed guys riding in it on the 2 previous laps and right on cue, both of them jump over to it. I stayed out of it and said, "You guys are taking a big risk riding over there." The Webcore guy pipes up and says, "Yeah but it's sooo much smoother!" No shit, just as soon as he finishes his sentence, "PSSSHPSSSSHPSSSSH!" "Never mind!" he says with a Garfield-esque, monotone voice as he falls back, half way through the final lap with a puncture. Hated loosing him. The 2 of us continued to chased all the way to the final turn around picking up Bob with Vitamin Water who'd fallen off the back along the way. He was fried like we were, but gave what he had. When we passed the break of 9 guys headed the other way, they were surprised to see us so close. "Wait up!" I said as we passed them...they didn't. We were still about 250m from the turnaround which meant that it was pretty much over, we were toast. We decided to sit up and let the pack catch us and try to rally them. Once they caught us, there was only about 3 of them working, the rest were just sitting in. One of them was Roland Freund. He was hammering at the front as they caught us. I guess some foolish young gun had asked him if he was going to work because all I heard as I fell into rotation was him yelling back with his thick German accent, "I'm 52 yeas old and you've been on my wheel for ze whole race!" Not a word was uttered after that. We were able to rally them for a few miles and with about 100m to go and with the finish in sight, I went. I was able to grab the field sprint and 10th place. Kicked me up to 12th overall. <br />
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So, I'm sitting at the gas station after the RR adding a little oil to the engine when a huge diesel 4X4 king cab truck pulls up beside me. Out jumps 5 "Cowboys" who look like they'd been punchin' cattle all day. A short stocky feller walks up and asks, "Say there, who puts on this here race?" being sure to nail every stereotypical trait with spot on perfection. Fully expecting to get the typical ear full of complaints of cyclists parking on the road, or urinating in public, or riding on "Their" roads, I answered "Top Sport." "Whell, I tell ya, we sure would have liked to hear about it, cause we ride these here roads all the time and would have loved to race in it!" The look on my face must have said it all because he returned the same ear to ear grin...only with tobaco filled teeth.<br />
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Good weekend of some hard racing. Couldn't have asked for better weather. Will definitely plan to do it again next year. And I hear say of some hills being added to that thar road race...just to keep the TTer's honest. :)<br />
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Thanks for reading.<br />
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~ JJJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-26197533067977312942010-03-17T14:18:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:47:14.937-07:00Madera Stage Race 2010It's Friday afternoon and I found myself up in Auburn at Bicycle Emporium getting a 9th hour hookup from Bill "Bubba" Morengo on a TT rig for AJ. I'll save my PG-13 readers from posting his initial response to my asking if he'd be able to get it built and rolling in 2 hours. Funny though it may have been...it's the visual that would send it over the top. Bill, being the kinda guy that would send Sinatra back to wardrobe for an overcoat, gave me that disgusted "Uncle Vito" look, "Pshhhh" then hollered out to Nando, "Hey Nando, you wanna hook up your compadre here and build him a TT bike?" "Chure, no-prollem!" Nando says without skipping a beat. I've gotta tell you, without the help of a good hearted bike shop, those of us who race on a budget, would never be able to continue to do what we love to do. <span class="fullpost"></span><br />
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It's 9am and we roll to a stop along the side of Santa Fe Dr. in Sharon Ca. for AJ's Time Trial and the start of the Cat 3 Stage Race. The 1st rider in AJ's category is to start at 10:30. AJ's start time, 11:02. It's a beautiful sunny day, perfect for bike racing, not so perfect for TT'ing with a strong NNW wind at @ 10-12mph. He's lucky. He gets to do the TT, then the crit. I, on the other hand, get to sit around all day and wait for the 1:50 start for my crit, followed by a 5:35 start for my TT. Was shaping up to be a long day. <br />
After a decent warmup, AJ heads out. I wish him good luck, give him a hug, tell him to tear it up, and watch as he rolls off towards the start. I turn back and start cleaning up, trying to keep myself preoccupied so as not to worry too much. Anything can happen in a bike race. Fighting to keep the bad thoughts at bay, I finish cleaning up and take a seat on the tail gate. Swinging my feet, trying to think happy thoughts. I watch and listen as people start coming through. They're spent, breathing heavily, and some of them are talking to friends and teammates about the course. 20+ minutes is a looong time to wait when you're a concerned Dad. I figure, as long as he comes riding up from the left (Finish line) and not the right, it's all good. I look up and see Emon riding up, muttering something to himself. Couldn't quite make it out, save the last few words, "_uck Emon!" It reminds me of just what the TT is all about. They don't call it "The race of truth" for nothing. It's a race against the clock and in order to be successful, one needs the ability to push themselves to the edge and keep it there for and extended period of time. You either love it, or hate it. I'm undecided...<br />
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Dr. Steve Offerman passes and I hail out. He's just finished and starts to tell me about the course when I look up to see AJ rolling up with a smile. "Hey bud!" "How was it!?!" regrettably, but unintentionally cutting Steve off. "Good" he replied, and started telling me all about it. We didn't have time to put any kind of computer or anything on the rig so we didn't have any idea as to how he did. We'd have to wait for them to post it in the evening at the "Official" race headquarters which happens to be the Hampton Inn. We throw everything in the back of the truck and make our way towards the Crit course.<br />
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After a stress filled drive full of wrong turns and roads turning into other roads without warning and the directions provided by the race promoter not bothering to mention it, we make it to the course. Fast forward to the last few laps of my race. 2 laps to go, I'm towards the front as we hit turn 2. A few riders go up the road and I hear Chad on my wheel, "Go get that!" I hit the throttle. We're there before turn 3 and it sits up. Great! Always love burning matches for nothing We roll through the Start/Finish to the ringing of the final lap bell. The tension increases ten fold. Like static in the air, I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Like a lava cap seconds from blowing, we nervously take turn 1 waiting for the eruption. I make it through taking the inside line which caused me to scrub a bit of speed so I stand on the pedals coming out of it. I tuck in around 15th wheel. We hit turn 2 and it starts to string out a bit. Like a vein of molten lava flowing down a mountain side we serpentine down the back stretch, everyone trying to get as little as they can and stay on the wheel in front of them. I hit turn 3 at around 10th wheel and hear Chad again just 2 wheels back. "Jay, move up!" "GOTTA GO!" "JAY, WE GOTTA GO...MOVE UP!" I knew I had JB and Chad on my wheel and wanted to wait to go so I could gutter it to the inside with just enough room for my teammates to come around, but anxiety mixed in with Chad's incessant nagging got the better of me and I punched it to the inside. I was 1st hitting the final turn as I stood on the pedals and giving it a go for about 50m before pulling off. My momentum took me wide through the turn so I pretty much led out the entire field. JB came thundering past me with Chad in tow. We ended up 5th, not the result we were hoping for, but, on the bright side, if there is one, we kept it safe. Lesson learned...patience.<br />
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AJ's crit went off right after mine so I rolled over to the truck. We'd parked right at turn 2 which gave me a perfect spot to watch the action. He was able to get into an early move with 12 others that ended up staying out...with a little help...of course. Every time I'd see a lul in the action, I'd yell out the split that was always about 5 seconds closer than it really was. It seemed to work, they'd pick up the pace every time I'd yell out. AJ was looking strong, taking short, meaningful pulls and staying alert. I was too far to hear the final bell and wasn't able to run over to watch the finish, but AJ pulled out a respectable 5th place. Nice. Without much time, we hastily load everything back into the truck and make our way back over to the TT course.<br />
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Not much to tell about my TT. It was hard, and definitely nothing to brag about. Starving and tired, we made our way over to the hotel. We check in, grab all the gear from the truck, grab a quick shower and head out to dinner with the fellas. We dined with the Zenn guys. Cool bunch of fellas, contrary to popular belief. :) (J/k Scotty) Pizza was surprisingly very good and hit the spot. This is one of my favorite things about racing really. Kicking back, talking about the days events, joking, laughing, and talking trash. I always enjoy hearing about races I was in from others perspectives. I look over at AJ and he's having a ball. He's totally comfortable joshing with the guys and ribbing right back, the kid gives no ground...17 years old and fitting right in...makes me smile seeing him have so much fun. I do wonder at times though...should he be hanging with kids his own age? Am I unintentionally causing some sort of disconnect with those his own age by always having him with me? I just enjoy his company so much and love watching him handle different questions and situations with the ease and self understanding of a 30 year old. Guess that's a question that only time will answer. It's always tough encountering moments of question like this. It reminds me that soon, I'll have to let go of the reigns completely.<br />
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We stop by the Hampton to see if they've posted the results yet. The lobby is full of cyclists. Some playing cards, some zoning out, some stretching, some passed out, but most, like us, waiting impatiently. So, instead of wasting good recovery time, we drag ourselves back to the hotel. As soon as AJ's head hits the pillow, he's out. I set the alarm, jump online to check the web one last time to see if they've posted anything, channel surf for a bit with one eye open, then pass out.<br />
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My nervous bladder has me up at 4:30am and NOT ready for action. I've had more than my share of days where the brain was about 3 steps behind, but this morning, I'd look back and it was nowhere to be found. What I should have done was load everything up, then made my way over to Dennys right next door, but noooo...AJ and I get there and sit for 15 min before we're even looked at. I swear, AJ probably didn't get a chance to relax until the drive home Sunday afternoon. Again, breakfast takes longer than any of us had expected. after shoveling eggs, pancakes with syrup, oatmeal, bacon and toast like we'd just been released from a vegan Zen retreat center, AJ and I are once again, frantically throwing everything in the truck, trying to get out to the start of the Road Race. AJ's split second glance over his shoulder saves the day as I flew by our turnoff motoring down a road that, once again, changed names without warning. We finally park and AJ springs into action, doing what I've done for him countless times. In no time, he's got Dad's # pinned on and rolling up the road ready to rock. His race isn't to start until after 11 so he's left to fend for himself, which, now that I think about it, is probably the way he prefers it. Dad's not around hen pecking, making him even more nervous than he already is. Maybe it's the coffee...I dunno. Been trying to cut back...<br />
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Sitting at the start line I'm overcome with the strangest feeling. I'm not at all nervous. In fact, I'm downright comfortable...cold, but comfortable. Usually I'm parched, filled with anxiety, and really don't begin to relax until well into the race. I look over at JB and he's shaking uncontrollably. Chad's shaking as well. Not surprised really, it was flippin' cold! Luckily, I've lathered my legs with hot sauce and seemingly have found the only sliver of sunlight available.<br />
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The 1st lap starts off fairly easy allowing everyone to warm up a bit. I typically hate rollouts, but was thankful that the moto ref kept everyone at a nice and easy pace. Jump to the 2nd lap and to no ones suprise, Dan Martin attacks. This time Dan Bryant, a Taleo guy, and one other were able to get away with him. We let them go for a while before deciding to chase it down. Specialized had Innes, Laberge, Anderson, and Hellman. All but Innes went to the front. Chad joined in and I followed suit. The plan was to help JB who had flatted in the 1st 3 miles of the TT so of the 3 of us, he had the best legs. We had no one in contention for the overall so it was just going to be an all out effort to get our guy on the podium. Just before heading to the front, I'm sitting behind Innes on the "cobble" section of the race and BAM! Puncture. "When are they going to fix these G.D roads!?!" I hear him say as he floats back and joins the ranks of numerous others who would have the DNP next to their name on the results page. I was one of them last year. Barely got 5 miles into the race when I hit the infamous pot hole that's since been repaired...thankfully. <br />
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So, I regret to say it, but as soon as it happens, I'm riding next to Chris Ott and I say, "There goes Innes." To which he repied, "Yeah, and there goes our chase." I then did something that I'm not proud of and am almost too ashamed to admit...I say, as he yells up to Fonseca who was 3 wheels up from us, "Not if you don't say anything...let them find out on their own." Scott rears back and says, "What!?!" "Nothing!" I reply. Chris looks over at me with a devilish smile. So, along with Chris and Scott, we join in on the chase. Anderson, Hellman, Laberge, Chad, Scott, Chris, Rob, and I hit the front and start drilling it. A few San Jose guys jumped in for a bit, but tire quickly, they were trying to keep their GC guy, Manly fresh and protected as well. Jason Grefrath had a teammate up and joined in and slowly pulled through in a gentlemanly attempt at slowing the pace a few times. Good on him for not being too disruptive. He was sitting in the top 6 or so in the GC so I was totally surprised to see him up there at all. The Berkeley guys didn't even have anyone up, they just didn't want to work. I'd fall back to try and rally a few others and to take a breather and had one of them pull up beside me and ask if we had anyone in the GC. "F__K NO!" I barked! "No?" he replied. "NO man, we just wanna race bro!" "Sure could use a hand." He tried to tell me that they only had 2, but I reminded him that they had 3, just like us. Didn't make a difference. So, back to the front I went. Chad was riding like a man possessed. Hammering at the front. JB joins in and takes a few meaningful pulls. Then, the Specialized guys do something that is worthy of some serious praise. I see Laberge drop back for a few miles after realizing that their GC guy was out with a puncture. But he jumps right back in with us and continues to help reel in the break. Awesome! That had to be one of the better chase groups I'd been in. All of us would take a break for a few rotations, a few guys would jump in for a few pulls, and right back in we'd go. We've almost got the break back as we hit the fast front stretch. I fall back for a breather and try one last time to rally a few others. I look over and see Gambetta and a few other Vitamin Water guys sitting right on the back of the echelon ready to pounce. I roll up next to another Berkeley guy who's sitting in next to Gambetta and say, "Jump in man!" "Nah." he says, "I'm not feeling it man...trying to save if for the rollers...I wouldn't be any help anyway." "Whatever man!" I say as I jump back into the rotation. <br />
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As soon as we bring the break back, the Vitamin Water guys jump to the front right before the right hand turn and slowly begin to ratchet up the pace. I was deep in the pain cave by the time we hit the "Roubiax" section and the Vitamin Water guys did just what they were supposed to. They were protecting Brian Choi their GC guy who sat in 1st place at the beginning of the race. They twisted the throttle wide open and left it there. Riders were scattered all over the road like bowling pins when it went off. Like some sort of invisible force field, everyone slammed to the left side of the road desperately trying to hold on to the wheel in front of them. I held on for dear life tiptoeing the edge of what was left of the crappy, deteriorated road fully expecting to go down at any moment in a tangled mass of bikes and riders because I just knew that someone was going to pull a superman over the bars from nosing off the road and into a pothole and take all of us with him. Guys were blowing up one after the other. I was on the verge of throwing out the anchor when I look up and see Chad, who'd been battling it out on the front for most of the race, pull to the right, into the wind and surrender to the relentless onslaught. I couldn't quit now, that would have left JB, who was two wheels up from me to fend for himself. Sinking my teeth into my stem I tried to imagine myself squeezing through the smallest hole possible in a grave attempt to stay with the lead group. I pulled out and into the wind along side of JB to try and offer a bit of respite from the crosswind, but couldn't hold it. As we approached the end of the Roubiax section I'd given all I had, I sat up and tossed out the anchor, finished, done, matchless. Just as I did that, much to my surprise and delight, it slowed just before the first roller. I saw Fonseca hit the throttle, no one chased. I had just enough to grab onto the wheel in front of me. I've no idea who's it was and barely have any recollection of much more than the fact that it took everything I had to make it to the back of the group while cresting the first roller. I tucked as best I could and let gravity do all the work in another desperate attempt to recover something, anything. Because I couldn't pedal anymore a gap formed and once again, I grabbed at my bar, tossing my bike back and forth struggling to catch back onto the back. We hit the top of the last roller and I was able get back up to the group, and for the second time, I was done. Once again, out went the anchor. "That's it...and that's all!" I thought to myself. "I'm D-O-N-E!" My legs feel like they've just been completely ripped right from my body and were flapping on the tarmac right next to me...I glance over just to make sure they hadn't. My arms feel like they're going to buckle at the elbow and I'm going to smash my face on my bar knocking out all of my teeth which also feel like they've just been ripped right out with the rest of my face. I can barely see strait, but I look up to see the guy from Art's Cycles at the back of the group, who'd smartly been sitting in the whole time, jump from the right all the way to the left. I sit there in awe as the road parts like the Red Sea opening a lane the width of the Champs-Élysées as he dives in. I don't know where I found it, I'd burned every match in my book and the book with it, but I cranked about 5 hard times and jumped on his wheel. He took me all the way to the front and I watched him ride off. With nothing at all left I angrily refused to listen to my body which was screaming in protest and fought my bike throwing it all over the road bumping and grunting I was passed by 4 others, but no more and pulled a 6th with JB on my wheel 7th. What a race. <br />
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AJ muscled out an impressive 3rd in his race pulling him up to 9th in the overall GC. All in all, it was an incredible weekend of racing for us. AJ finally came out of his shell and started believing in himself.....and so did I. <br />
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Again, a huge shout out to Bubba and the fellas up at B.E.<br />
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Thanks for reading.<br />
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</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-84115484948912547532010-03-08T18:30:00.001-08:002010-07-25T11:48:14.822-07:00Merco...uhm...Team Time Trial? :0/"Crap! We forgot our water bottles bud!" We both stop pedaling and give each other that "oh shit" look. We coast, one hand on our bars and the other holding our spare wheels. I quickly surmise that the likelihood of us finding anyone willing to give us 4 bottles is slim. AJ's race starts 5 min. after mine. "We can come back and get them." I say, but figure there's no way we have enough time. I look over and see Chris Baker just mounting his rig, spares in hand and ask him how much time we have. "I think it's getting pretty close." He replies. Since he and I are in the same race, I ask if he can take my wheels to the sag car. "Yeah sure" so I hand them over and tell AJ to go on ahead and that I'd bring him his bottles. I turn and head back to the truck. "Now lets see, the last time I checked it was 8:38...that had to be about a half hour ago..." Whistle blows at 9:05..."SH!T!" <span class="fullpost"></span><br />
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I've never missed a start time before but I've got a sneaking suspicion that I won't be able to say that again. I get back to the truck, throw 2 bottles in my cages, fill my jersey with 4 more, take a bite of a banana and head back. Weaving my way through cyclists and pedestrians I finally make it to the start line to see the officials briefing the P12 women's field. Hmmm..."Do the math...DUMBASS!" the incessantly annoying voice in my head clangs. "CAT 3's!?!" I ask the official, because I'm too embarrassed to say Masters 123's, I mean, after all, it looks better to be 2 minutes late rather than...7!? Really though, what idiot is going to ask anyway...as if they've got the Masters and the C-3's staging around the corner or something. "They're long gone, you'd better go!" Paula replies as I'm already pushing up the road. "Well, so much for that!" "Dumba.. SHUT UP!" I hit the drops and dig in. The least I can do is try to reach the 3's and hand AJ his bottles. Hopefully he made it for his start and grabbed a bottle from someone. I figure if I don't catch them, I'll jump off in the feed zone and feed him on the 2nd lap. <br />
I've been thinking, for the purpose of writing, of naming my internal monologue. Though, I'm not sure what name to give...him? Sometimes he sounds like an Italiano, sometimes a Brit, sometimes a Frenchman, sometimes he sounds like my Dad, sometimes like AJ, and on rare occasions, VERY rare...he sounds a bit like...dare I say...a she. :0/ But, more times than not, he sounds like...me. "This must be what a true 'Domestique' feels like." he says. I'm about 10 min in, bottles keep working their way to the bottom of my jersey and I'm constantly having to tuck them back in. I don't dare look back, why, I'm not sure. Thankfully I don't have my contacts in so I can't see anything beyond around 500 m up the road...at least not clearly. Which...also means I'm only 500m off the back...right? :0/ Well, that's what I keep telling myself anyway. <br />
I'm a solid 30 min into it, for the last 10 min I've been squinting at a rider who keeps inching closer. He's riding strong, not like the other's I'd passed who were obviously chalking their day up to a training ride. No, every time I think I've got him, he stretches out the gap. A peculiar feeling of familiarity washed over me, which jerked me out of my trance. I sat up, squinting and blinking hard. A bottle had worked it's way out and dropped before I could reach back. I look back to see it tumbling, then rolling to the side of the road. No way I'm turning back now, plus, I'm a little lighter now. I turn my attention back to the rider up the road, and much to my dismay, my biggest fear was rushing at me now...AJ had sat up and was pedaling backwards. <br />
I roll up beside him feeling much like half the life had been sucked right out of me, and the look on his face almost ripped out the other half. I swallowed hard forcing the emotions back down to my winded core and roared, "Are you crying!?!" "I missed my start!" He roared back, being careful not to make eye contact. "Well, I missed mine too...my race is over!" "Here!" I barked back holding out a water bottle. He looked over at me with an almost startled look on his face, which immediately turned to one of gratitude. He'd been hammering almost as hard as I had for the last half hour with not even a drop of water. "Suck it up damnit!" "Here!" I hand him another one. "Now lets go!" "Come on!" "SHIT!" "We can catch them!" Sweating and spitting snot and slobber all over the place, I hit the drops. He guzzled half a bottle and fell in behind me. After about a minute or two, he re gathered himself and pulled through. I fell in behind him for a minute or so, and pulled beside him. "You OK bud?" "Yeah" he says. "Alright, 30" pulls, nice and easy" I say, and we start a rhythmic rotation. It takes a few rotations, but we smooth it out and start working as one. Rotating with someone that knows what they're doing is a beautiful thing. Doing it with your son? Even now, there are no words. It's about commitment and trust. Committing yourself to a common goal and trusting your partner to do the same. Inches from each other, we thunder our way up the road to nothing but the sound of our breathing, the wind rushing over us, the clicking of our grears and the smooth sound of our well lubricated drivetrain straining under pressure. I look down at my computer and we're holding steady at 27 mph. "We're in the break bud!" I say. AJ looks back, grinning. "This is what it feels like to be off the front bud."<br />
We hit the rollers and, right on cue, AJ begins to pull away from me. "Hey...don't be dropping the domestique!" He looks back with a half smile and slows up. "When we come through the finish area and the feed zone we need to separate so we don't get DQ'd, K bud?" "OK." he replies. Rolling through the feed zone, I ask a spectator how far up the group is. "About 2 min" he says. Once through the feed zone we regroup and fall right back into an undulating rotation without skipping a beat. About half way through the 2nd lap, we hit the rollers for the 2nd time, I stand on the pedals and give a few hard cranks and hear a "ping" then a cling-a-cling with every rotation. I look down and notice that I'd broken a spoke..."On a friggin' climb!?!" "Gimme a break!" I slow to a stop and wrap the broken spoke around another one, loosen up the back break, and remount. We press on as the reality that we're probably not going to catch them begins to sink in. <br />
We're about 5 miles from the finish line on the 2nd lap, and the unwelcome sound of a moto ref starts getting louder and louder. Not really caring about being DQ'd at this point, I look over. He smiles and says, "Hey fellas, you've got the Pro 1-2 women's field about 20 seconds behind you." "Thanks man!" I reply, as I look back for the 1st time in and hour and a half. AJ looks at me as I pull up beside him. He's trashed, so am I. "Come on bud...we can't let the chicks catch us!" We hit it hard for about a solid 5 minutes before I take a glance back. I see nothing but rolling hills as far as the eye can see. We pressed on. <br />
Passing through the finish line for the 3rd and final lap I ask that same spectator the same question...his reply wasn't what I was hoping to hear. We were about 5 min. off the back and fading fast. When we regrouped, I didn't tell AJ, but I think he already knew. We hit it hard for one final effort and that familiar sound came up on us again. This time, the moto ref sat there for a few minutes before saying anything. I look over and ask him how many laps the 3's do, already knowing the answer. He says "3" again offering up a sympathetic smile. I roll up next to AJ. "Whata you wanna do bud?" "I'm hurtin' Dad" he says. "So am I....You wanna call it?" He just looks at me, and doesn't say a word. I have a feeling that he would have rode himself right into the ground with me. My heart grew at least 2 inches in diameter with that thought. "Lets call it." I say. We slow to a stop and pull off the road and dismount as the P 1-2 women roll past us. We sit there for a few minutes, breathing and stretching. "You ready?" "Yeah." We slowly climb back on our bikes, reminiscent of that scene from All the Pretty Horses when John Grady Cole and Lacey Rollins just finished breaking all of those horses and drug themselves, without saying more than a handfull of words, into their bunks and passed out, we rolled back to the finish line, draped over our bikes like wet towels, sweat dripping off our noses and blood filled swollen legs glistening in the sun. Like 2 battle hardened, weathered and weary warriors not saying more than a handful of words, enjoying the beautiful weather. Not sure how much time had passed, but somewhere, rolling down a tree lined road in full blossom, we look up at eachother and stare, shaking our heads in mutual understanding, as the corners of our dry, parched lips start to curve upwards. "Good job bud." "You too Dad." <br />
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We'd chased for 2:06 hours and rode 51.82 miles when we pulled to the side of the road...easily one of the most fullfilling races I've had to date. Was a good day. <br />
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Thanks for reading. <br />
</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-6651708662784516942010-03-06T13:28:00.001-08:002010-07-25T11:49:17.937-07:00"E-PEE-EYE-SEE!?!"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-I0Rtrb8pJgM27vq5ZcUAd70OOgjVly7mjhZvIWAH2dIcAsuAlDsDTssIwiMNf8ihOYFkYLiz9tSSW6qa4SqDdsqDX4rG3M6yCwJljwWV7Tta15PAugF8wn6K1BnAO3d2HJvWwuI1cMI/s1600-h/Snelling+2010.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445639443173610434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-I0Rtrb8pJgM27vq5ZcUAd70OOgjVly7mjhZvIWAH2dIcAsuAlDsDTssIwiMNf8ihOYFkYLiz9tSSW6qa4SqDdsqDX4rG3M6yCwJljwWV7Tta15PAugF8wn6K1BnAO3d2HJvWwuI1cMI/s320/Snelling+2010.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
"E-PEE-EYE-SEE!?!" What kind of race/ride "qualifies" as an "Epic" one? Well, I guess it depends on what side of the handle bars you're looking from. I tend to be picky when it comes to awarding a ride with this badge of honor. The ride out in Bodega Bay last month with mah boy and the UCD Aggie Elite squad, 97 miles, King Ridge, Cruz Ranch, oodles of quad ripping climbs, on some of the most beautiful roads in Nor Cal, wind, rain, mud, in 5 hours...definitely earned the badge...maybe. Worlds Toughest Mt. Bike Race in 2004...90 miles, +13,000' of climbing, dislocated shoulder, piano player in the middle of nowhere up at Rubicon Springs, great friends, family meeting us half way and only seeing us for 5 min in the parking lot at Loon Lake, mah boy running along side us for the first 100m cheering us on as we continued and me having to tell him to turn back, hitting 52 MPH on a fat tire rig, in ? hours, insane ride home, lifelong friends...definitely earns the badge. This weekends festivities down in Snelling Ca., especially the early morning events, wind, rain, no less than 3 water crossings, mud, manure, debris all over the road, dodging moto refs and emergency vehicles at high speed, and loosing almost half of the field by the 3rd lap? Pin it! <span class="fullpost"></span><br />
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Getting up at 4 am hurts when you find yourself still on the trainer at 8 pm the night before. Is there a cure for stubbornness? Think it's called a kick in the a$$! Sometimes there just aren't enough hours in a day, especially for those of us who've achieved Jedi status in the art of procrastination. (raising my hand right now...you can't see it) Isn't it funny how we've managed to program ourselves to do the same simple duties morning after morning without even thinking about it? Before I've even opened my left eye, I'm at the kitchen sink filling the kettle and scooping the perfect amount, of carefully measured coffee into the press pot. Getting much better at the pre-race prep though. AJ and I were up, gear loaded and out the door in an hour...not bad considering the sleeping habits of a 17 year old. We were already in Sac when I realized that I'd forgotten my contact lenses. Seeing is highly overrated in a racing situation anyway...right? <br />
Snelling Road Race is considered by many to be the "Official" kick off for the NorCal race season. This was only the 2nd time doing this race for AJ and I, so we really didn't know what to expect. We'd missed it last year and it was only our 2nd race as "Roadies" ever, so apart from the weather, the bumpy roads, and some colorful people at registration, we really didn't remember much of anything. <br />
Registration this year was pretty uneventful and surprisingly smooth. Buzz about the road conditions was already bounding across the parking lot. I tried my best to block it all out and just focus on my race prep. Knee warmers? A quick glance upwards showed no signs of letting up. Dark, ominous clouds filled with love from above as far as the eye could see. I caught myself smiling and breathing it all in as the rain drops kissed my cheeks. "Lots of oxygen in the air today." I thought to myself as I took a puff from my inhaler. For the past 2 weeks I'd been fighting a bad sinus infection with bronchitis. The Dr. actually asked how long I'd been a smoker because I was wheezing so bad. The inhaler was something new for me. JB walks up and asked if we'd come in on Keys Rd. "No" Judd replied. Then he proceeded to tell us about the lake crossing. <br />
With all the rain we'd had, the road had a section just beyond the "feed zone" that was about 8" deep and about 20 meters across. "Nope, no knee warmers for me!" I dawn the rubber gloves and bust out The "Hot Sauce." AJ and I had recently tried some new embrocation, Q-oleum 3. We'd used too much the last ride and ended up paying the price. This stuff is so F'ING hot that it actually felt like I'd poured battery acid on road rash covered legs. Seriously, it almost brought me to tears in the shower. Taking a cold shower after a "FA-RRRI-GID" ride is absolutely out of the question, so I had to endure the pain. My legs were on FIRE! I was NOT making that same mistake today. Another lesson I'd learned? Don't put your energy gels under the legs of your bibs for quick access when you have said embrocation on your legs! This stuff on your lips and tongue...not recommended. :0/<br />
Sitting at the start line and Paula confirms what JB had told us about "The Lake." 8" deep, about 25m long. Not only was there that one, but there were 2 more on the back side of the course. Greeeeat! Good to see so many familiar faces though. For the most part, the Masters 35+123 crowd is a bunch of coool cats and I was jazzed, no matter what the conditions, to be lining up with them. I take a quick glance around, all the usual suspects. J. Brown, Bradley, Baker, Phipps, Innes, LaBerge, Holtz, Fonseca, Martin, Nils, Melcher, Spence, etc. Joining me were my teammates, Judd, Chad, JB, and Robin. I liked our chances. Today was going to be a "Hard man's" race no doubt about it. <br />
The whistle blows and we're off. Not even 5 min. in, I hear "Pssssss!" Some poor, unlucky (or lucky considering the weather and road conditions) dude flatted. "Well, that's the end of his day!" said the guy next to me. I was about 3 wheels behind Chad, JB, and Robin and couldn't see Judd. I take a peek back and still, nothing. "No way could it be my only teammate that's not in front of me!" I tell myself. I see Chad scanning, then turn his attention back to the front and see nothing in his body language that suggests anything, so, I pedal on. About 2 miles later, Spence rolls up to me and says, "Hey Jas, I don't know if you know it already, but that was Judd that flatted back there." "WHAT!?!" I reply and immediately hit the brakes and float to the back. Once there, I realize that he'd had a better chance of rolling back to the car and grabbing another wheel than me turning and riding back. A quick glance around and I see Phipps, Innes, LaBerge, and Melcher all just kickin' it on the back. I ask Phipps how far back he thought Judd was. "He's quite a ways back man." "If he's lucky, he'll get into the P12's." I look back and see nothing but green rolling hills and wet pavement. <br />
Judd was our top rider and now we're down to 4 of us. This changes things. I wasn't sure what I'd have and really didn't feel all that good so I figured I'd kick it in the back with 3-4 of the top guys in our category and watch them for the 1st lap to see what they'd do. <br />
The first lap was a blur. It was full of surges, and being on the back of an 80+ rider pack, dealing with the accordion effect of sprinting and braking was hell on the nerves. The 1st time through "The Lake" was crazy. Guys were freaking out, hitting their brakes, swerving all over the place, and being on the back, not only did I have to plow my way through the water, but I was being hit with waves from every direction from the riders before me. I remember thinking, "Well, so much for staying dry!" as my entire bike moved 4 inches to the left. I was soaked from head to toe. Picture Garfield the cat's face as he surrenders himself to whatever life altering travesty that Odie the dog had bestowed upon him...yup, that was me. Sprinting full out to catch back on to the pack was fun too. Once there, I had time to register what had just happened, and realized that my mouth was full of grit. I reach down, grab a water bottle, put it up to my mouth without looking and get a mouth full of mud...or, what I thought was mud. The smell that was wafting through my half congested sinus's wasn't the smell of wet soil. Gagging now, I squirt my face off and take a drink. Nothing like a mouth full of manure to wake ya up in the morning! Yay! Protein. <br />
There was debris strewn across the road on every corner and wind seemingly coming from every direction. I pretty much stuck with Phipps and would move up whenever he did. JB, Chad, and Robin were all looking strong and seemingly managed to keep out of the wind for the most part. I'd look up and see JB hammering to cover moves and would make my way to the front for a brief stint. Every time through the smaller water crossing on the back it seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. A few guys would go up the road, but nothing was sticking and the pack was pretty much staying together. There were a few guys that got tangled up after riding onto the shoulder, but other than that, I didn't see any crashes. <br />
By the third lap, I'd figured out that if I just barreled through the left side of the lake, I'd avoid the idiots that were braking and not have to chase so hard to get back on...that, and making my way up towards the front on the hill through the feed zone helped a bit too. Racing without my contacts wasn't such a bad thing after all. Especially on a day like this. Other than the fact that I had to rely on others to tell me who was up the road, it wasn't so bad. I'd began to rely on the crossings to wash all of the crap and debris off my glasses and legs. I look up and see Chad bouncing on his bike and looking down. Damn, another puncture. And then there were 3. <br />
Earlier in the race I'd been chatting with Phipps. He'd said he was pretty sure it would stay together. I jokingly told him that I knew it was just a matter of time before he went, and to give me a signal when he did. I'd been watching Innes as well. I don't think the expression on his face ever changed. Like a flippin' machine, that guy just pedaled on, his helmet cocked to the left side, hardly looking like he was even working up a sweat. I'd lost track of he and Phipps after moving up when Chad flatted. Coming through the finish to start the last lap, I see AJ at the line cheering me on. I tell him to grab my vest that I was taking off. Barley getting it off before the right hander, I throw it to the side of the road and look up to see the pack strung out. I hit the gas and try to find the slightest bit of draft while tiptoeing the gutter. I see JB at the front drilling it. His vest flapping in the wind like a superhero's cape. There was a gap that was getting bigger with about 20 guys up the road, and we weren't in it. Not good. I jump up 2 wheels to Robin and yell, "We've gotta move up!" I barely finish saying that and he moves 3' to the left and throttles it all the way to the front with me glued to his wheel. Once there, we roll by JB who looked thrashed. I say, "Get in J!" as Robin continued to turn that big engine of his at the front of the pack. I glance around and realize that no one is going to help us. The gap was growing, and was at about 100m at that point. I take a few deep breaths, squeeze my drops, and hit the gas with everything I've got. <br />
I've closed plenty of gaps before, and, have created my fair share, but I've never successfully solo bridged up to a break. "I'm committed now!" I'm not sure just how long it took, but it seemed like I chased for about 10 min. I was about 20m off the back of the pack when we hit the feed zone. I poured myself all over the front of my bike and threw caution to the wind through the S turn and hit the water crossing like a buffalo charging across a river. I glance through my arm pit and catch a glimps of a wheel and say, "C'mon man!" By then, I've made it already. I've no idea how long he'd been there. Lesson learned though. Just as I get there, Innes attacks and the group shatters. I pick my way through riders who are throwing out anchors left and right and hit the gas again. I'm back on. I take 2 deep breathes, then realize what I'd just done. A smile barely starts to crack the sides of my face when Innes attacks again! F__K! I'm on a Safeway guys wheel and a gap opens. I've got just enough air in my lungs to say, "Grab that wheel!" He proceeds to tell me, "I can't man!" "You don't know how bad I want to, but I've got noth..." I'm thinking, as he continues, "If he can say all that crap, then he can grab that F-ing wheel!" I jump again. His voice trails off as I focus my attention on Baker's wheel. I chase for another minute or so, I get so close I can spit on Baker's back, but just can't hold the pace. I look up to see that 3 guys had gone up the road from the 4 that I was trying to chase, and helplessly watch as Baker's wheel gets smaller, and smaller. It takes a minute or 2, but I fall back to Nils, a Taleo guy, and the long winded Safeway guy. Nils and I try to get something going. I tell the Taleo guy that his teammate was off the back of the lead group and is now in the 2nd group of 4, and that his best bet was to help us reel the 4 in and have his guy sit on the back as the 7 of us work to bring back the lead group, but he was not having any of it. I was so pissed! Nils was going on about something too. I guess he was the one that started the break in the first place and something had happened. The thing I love about Nils, is that he just wants to race hard, not matter what. He had 2 guys up the road, but he just wanted to race. Love it! One last effort to talk the Taleo guy into helping was futile, so I left him with, "Good job man, you're racing for 4th place...well done!" We were eventually swallowed by the pack. Robin rolls by and says, "You need to hide!" I do my best to do just that. with about 3 miles to go, I was trashed. I tuck in behind one of Nils' teammates, don't remember his name, but I know he's a strong rider and do my best impression of a parasite. I'm not giving up anything. I'm stuck to his wheel like a 2 week old exploded gu in a jersey pocket. We make our way to the front along the last long crosswind bumpy section and as soon as we hit the right hand turn onto the finishing stretch, Robin guns it. <br />
I'm sitting about 12 wheels back and know I'm too far back. I take a peek up and see guys exploding and starting to ride backwards down the right side. I jump to the left, skimming the back of some guys tire and punch it with everything I've got. I feel my quads rip wide open and my lungs shrivel to the size of raisins as I pick up rider after rider. I see the line rocketing towards me and barley see the guy on the front let go of his bars as I throw my bike at the line taking the field sprint. AJ later told me that I looked like a beast, grunting and giving an all out gutteral yell as I threw my bike at the line. "That was so awesome Dad!" he said as we rolled back to the car. I looked over as he gave his best impression of me. Cool man. <br />
So, 8th place wasn't the finish we were hoping for, but, given the circumstances, and the fact that we lost almost half the field by the 4th lap, not too shabby. I was so stoked that AJ was there to see the finish. Again, I got all welled up when I was watching him imitate me. He was so proud of me. It was an incredible feeling. One I'd never experienced before. More importantly, he watched me take a field sprint. Every time we go out and do our sprint workouts, no matter where they are, I'm lucky if I can beat him once. Usually I'm several meters behind him. Hopefully it'll give him a bit of confidence in himself. I tell ya, once that kid realizes what he's got, he's gonna be a force to be reckoned with. I can't wait.<br />
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Epic? I think so.<br />
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Thanks for reading.<br />
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</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-24181477033268854332009-12-11T16:56:00.000-08:002009-12-12T18:14:22.538-08:00The weather's finally turning for the worse...if you're a cyclist...it's time.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cqKLvynHyOIJnVBvo6Eskz84QGcbr8d50b3Iq97vGJ9J7jGuxZdDC07_PAszElJl9ynLlfBPQ2-jYoWNAXNwCMtcXOkcHfG2fQEaH1HVCPHkBQPkanHep8KfAPyqfADWVS365kQJpiM/s1600-h/hampsten_poster_trans_lr.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cqKLvynHyOIJnVBvo6Eskz84QGcbr8d50b3Iq97vGJ9J7jGuxZdDC07_PAszElJl9ynLlfBPQ2-jYoWNAXNwCMtcXOkcHfG2fQEaH1HVCPHkBQPkanHep8KfAPyqfADWVS365kQJpiM/s320/hampsten_poster_trans_lr.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414538149713139218" /></a><br /><br />Well, it's that time of year again. Almost all of the beautiful, vibrantly colored leaves have fallen to the ground. Temperatures are dropping. Appetites are growing. Sunlight is dwindling. Time to revisit one of the most incredibly epic performances of any human on a bicycle. First, in order for me to open the door for rational dialogue, I must admit my biased opinion being that the afore mentioned cyclist is...American. <span class="fullpost"><br />Andy Hampsten wrote about his experience and instead of my chopping it up and perhaps failing to do it justice in summary, I figured I'd simply repost his own words. Every time that chill crawls up my spine while out on a blustery day, I try and imagine what it must have been like attempting to ride the wheel of this incredible cyclist on this day...this day of self definition, of self understanding, of mind, body, and soul numbing masochism. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYbp3sNUFxRqTt1-6NaUX9C9bnsRmIauc5yLVtuUI9lEMjtDozBgO6uaWYQHq8m5nXQse5TYejyT16eElbWiKXSX19NHw0RMq5qM1_ddqMc04l5Kfo4p3oVZjZ43N54mLZDkPgoHKH_U/s1600-h/Andy+Hampsten+Giro+1988.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYbp3sNUFxRqTt1-6NaUX9C9bnsRmIauc5yLVtuUI9lEMjtDozBgO6uaWYQHq8m5nXQse5TYejyT16eElbWiKXSX19NHw0RMq5qM1_ddqMc04l5Kfo4p3oVZjZ43N54mLZDkPgoHKH_U/s320/Andy+Hampsten+Giro+1988.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414155253752816178" /></a><br /><br /><br />So, here it is <br /><br /><a href="http://www.bikeforums.net/showthread.php?41272-June-5th-1988-The-day-the-strong-men-cried">June 5th 1988 The day the strong men cried...</a></span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-27669371311035895622009-11-28T22:09:00.000-08:002010-07-25T11:50:10.198-07:00"Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a!"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YrAKn-VnsGCslymxCkiFtqgmPn4WWskH6xAGPvKNcdBYUIXJ1I7yG4B-bQbl4P9YdYZgEyS1lxYovXNMUoW1gEbWEgwxzsyEUinA4XS1PYS8tQzmnENmbrE48G9LCwXS2Gl7LLQ6qpg/s1600-h/AJ+cardiac+repeats.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449849721048917922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YrAKn-VnsGCslymxCkiFtqgmPn4WWskH6xAGPvKNcdBYUIXJ1I7yG4B-bQbl4P9YdYZgEyS1lxYovXNMUoW1gEbWEgwxzsyEUinA4XS1PYS8tQzmnENmbrE48G9LCwXS2Gl7LLQ6qpg/s320/AJ+cardiac+repeats.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
So there I was 2 days ago, gassed, starving for air, feeling much like a fish out of water, or, at least what I imagine a fish out of water would feel like, looking up the road, feeling my age. The day had finally come. I've known that someday it would happen, just not so soon...well, at least it seems soon. Yet, at the same time, as strange as it may be, on more of a paternal level, it couldn't get here fast enough.<span class="fullpost"> </span><br />
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Since AJ was big enough to ride a bike, he's been following me. He's followed me all over this beautiful state. Up and down the coast, all over the Sierras, everywhere bikes are allowed, and some places they aren't. He'd ride his little 20' Trek down the Bear Valley Trail out at Point Reyes while I ran. He'd pedal as hard as he could, leaving me running behind. He'd look back at me with a smile that would brighten even the darkest places in my often troubled heart. I'd see the look in his eye, and watch, as the seed of competition started taking root. He was taking his first sip of that ever so sweet nectar. A sweetness unparallelled by any other, a sweetness that only a son would know. <br />
I'd take him up to Auburn where we'd ride the upper side of the Forresthill Divide trail. Every time we'd go, we'd go just a little bit further. Sometimes I'd ride up ahead and out of sight, jump off, and crouch behind the brush, or a rock or tree and watch to see what his reaction would be. Sometimes he'd get frustrated and slow down. I'd see his little eyes well up and hear his little chest ripping open gasping for air, trying to breathe, trying to keep up with Dad. Other times, he'd grit his little teeth and I'd hear him grunting up the hill. I'd holler at him to keep going, and "suck it up." I sometimes would say mean things, things that shouldn't be said to a little boy. I thought I was motivating him, thought it would make him stronger. But, most of the time, he was having to pay for my shortcomings in life. I'd take my frustrations out on him. I whip myself with those memories. <br />
I was just barely a young man when AJ was born. At 22 years old what the hell did I know about anything? I had been heading in several different directions simultaneously. He was 6 months old before I held him in my arms. Once I did, you'd have to shoot me dead to keep me away from him. He was my son. And that was that. He quickly became my reason for getting up everyday and doing it all over again. I considered myself lucky in fact. While most other guys my age were searching for their own reason, all I had to do is walk a few feet down the hall every morning, look into the next room and there was mine, sound asleep. Off to work I'd go. <br />
Most of the time I'd help him. I'd ride up a steep section of the trail, dismount, and run back down to the bottom and push him up the hill. Running beside him, I'd ask him, "Are you a little mouse, or are you a mt. goat!?!" He'd let out a "Ba-a-a-a-a" imitating a little mt. goat and with the heart of a lion, he'd work his little legs until they couldn't go anymore. We'd take breaks on logs, or rocks that would overlook a meadow or a running stream and eat our lunch before heading back. It was Pizza or In-n-out Burger that was on both our minds by the end of the ride. It's those times that I love and cherish. But it's the times when life would get the best of me, when my patience was at it's end that I'm tortured, and tormented by and it's those same memories that come to me now as I watch him ride up the road leaving his Dad behind. At first I'd get frustrated, like before, only, different now. I'd get upset because I'd feel as if he had no respect for me, conveniently forgetting that every ride that we'd been on, from the time he was just a little boy, to now, he'd been eating his Old Man's dust and taking all my crap on the chin. He's been waiting for this for a long damned time.<br />
Just yesterday, while climbing the first roller through the feed zone on Cantelow, I looked at him and said, "Go!" "What, what do you mean?" he replied. "Go, don't let me hold you back." He proceeded to drop me so fast that I thought he must have ridden off the road. For a second, I was looking down the side of the hill as I crested the first roller after the feed zone because there was no way he could drop me THAT fast. Just as I round the corner, I look up the road and there he is, out of the saddle, hammering up the next roller and not looking back. Drinking in that sweet nectar that only a son would know. That sweet nectar that comes with finally besting your Dad, and knowing that it'll never be the same. He's been sipping that nectar for quite a few months, but now, he gulps it down, hardly taking a breath. Dad can no longer push him, in fact, the tables have completely turned, I wait for the day that he looks back and says, "Come on Dad, suck it up!" "Are you a little mouse, or a F***ING mt. goat...BEEOTCH!<br />
Until that day, I practice my mt. goat impression...in silence...of course.</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-71506648205074961022009-09-24T08:34:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:52:12.101-07:003 elusive cats, finally found...Monday morning at 6:55 a.m. with tired eyes and strained consciousness I roll over, sit up and open up the laptop. It had been another long weekend, topped off with falling asleep on the couch...again. Lovely. I check my emails, check the weather, log onto Face Book and contemplate posting something silly and witty, with just the right amount of cynicism/sarcasm about my weekend, but reconsider, and refrain. I log onto my Twitter and hold the same internal debate about posting...I'm tired. I'm drained. I need coffee, but don't feel like making any.<br />
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<span class="fullpost">Sunday morning started insanely early. Up at 4 a.m. Shower, wake up AJ, make coffee, load the car, wake up Dawn and roll out for Chico. Again, we're running late. I mean really!?! Waking up at 4 a.m. and still running late!?! Gimme a break! The Jr's race starts at 7 a.m.!?! C'mon! Gimme a EFING BREAK! Luckily, AJ's not signed up for it. But, we are trying to get him there in time to do the E4/5's which is the very next race that starts at 7:40 so we're pushing it. Hopefully they're running late. <br />
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I'd sent in his CAT3 upgrade request first thing Monday morning following the Folsom Cyclebration weekend and hadn't heard anything yet. According to everyone I'd spoken to, including my own experience, I should have heard back by now. It was Thursday. There were a few Jr's races where they'd raced the 15/16 together with the 17/18's but scored them separately. I'd combined the fields when sending in his upgrade giving him the best chance at earning the most points. If they were going to be fickle about it, then AJ only had around 18 of the required 20 points. If not, then he was sitting on around 23. Being that I hadn't heard anything, I decided to go ahead and sign us up for the Chico Downtown Crit. The last race of the season and the last chance at earning upgrade points. I went ahead and registered both of us for the E3/4's because if he didn't get it, I'd be able to race with him and hopefully have the opportunity to lead him out for a podium finish or at least a top 5. Since I was there anyway, I also reg'd for the 35+123's. It would be a perfect encore performance for me. Knowing that I didn't have any teammates heading up, it would also afford me the rare opportunity to race for myself as well. <br />
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We roll into Chico at around 7:25 after I'd taken the long, short cut by driving in to Sac from Davis, only to then take I-5 up through Woodland. "I know where I'm going!" "Ieeeeee know where I'm going!" Duh! We park, take AJ's bike down, Cody's there and helps air his tires up, and we make a mad dash to registration to find that they are in fact running late, about 15 min late. Whew! We get AJ rag'd, pin his # on, and send him off to get in a warmup. Neither of us had done the race before so there was a bit of added nervousness to it. I run back to the car, grab his spare wheels and get them over to the pit. I hate signing him up for any 4/5 races due to the fact that there's always a bunch of newbies that just don't have a clue yet pulling stupid moves. Not their fault, we've all been there before, but it's just a little different when you've got to sit on the sidelines watch your son have to deal with these idiots. <br />
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3 laps to go. I'm sitting in between turns 2 and 3 as they round the corner. AJ's sitting around 15th wheel or so. I yell out for him to move up and before hitting the corner for turn 3 he jumps up about 5 wheels. Looking across the park I could see him coming through the Start/Finish sitting around 8th wheel. Good, but bad in that the group is all together. Not a good thing in a 4/5 race. I hear a "BANG!" echoing off the buildings and through the streets. I ghasp. Holding my breath I watch as rider after rider rounds the corner of turn 2...but no AJ. "F&#%!"... "F&#%!" I'm yelling as I run full speed up and around the corner to turn 1. Rounding the corner, I hear, "Medic!" "Medic!" The shock of a full on Cortisol dump hits my body as I look up to see my son sprawled out across the sidewalk. <br />
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I've had my EMT-1A certification, I've done ambulance ride along's, and I've done ER internships, not to mention being raised by a cop, so I understand the importance of keeping a level head and emotions in check. But when you're standing there, looking down at your child who's writhing in pain, bleeding from several locations, and may have serious, even life threatening injuries, for me at least, it's one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do. I've never really been good at it. Even when he was little, I'd get so upset. <br />
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I run up, and right off I notice that his helmet is securely fashioned to his noggin and is in place. I exhale. I put one hand on his chest, the other on his knee and ask if he's O.K. Before I could tell him not to, he yanks off his helmet and sits up. I give him a quick once over as I grab his helmet and closely inspect it. Not a scratch on it. Cool. He's complaining about his lower back. I pull up his jersey and see that he's got a pretty nasty raspberry, but no deformity. I'm watching him breathe and listening intently. He tells me that some dumbass cut the corner and took out about 8 guys. I yell out as I'm glaring over at the other 6 or 7 guys laying in the gutter and on the sidewalk in pain, and bleeding, "When the F*** are you IDIOTS gonna learn not the cut the F****** corners!?!" They just look up at me and say nothing. Yeah, nice, just what they need right? Like I said, I've never been really good at reeling in the emotions when it come to my boy being injured. I immediately regret yelling at them and turn my attention back to AJ. I ask if he's hurting anywhere else. "My elbow." He's got a pretty good gash with a steady stream of dark Burgundy blood flowing out of it. "Anywhere else?" I ask. "No!" I start to breathe a little easier. Just then another rider pulls up and says he saw the whole thing and that he was a medic. He'd pulled out of the race just to lend a hand. I think he was either a Sierra Nevada guy or a Chico Velo. I'll know him when I see him for sure and will do my best to help him out in any way I can in the future. He starts to give AJ a full assessment. An ambulance rolls up and the medic takes over. I watch as AJ responds to all the questions and seems to be doing fine. They patch up his elbow and turn their attention to the other riders. The organizers don't have any medical personnel what so ever. These guys were just eating breakfast and heard the accident and immediately responded without being called. Awesome! <br />
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We get him up and on his feet. Cody and Dale are there, along with Freddy and Dawn. I'm holding his bike as we're checking it out trying to make sure it'll at least roll. Busted handlebars, both wheels are bent, and just when Freddy says, "Lets get him on it and just roll him back to the car," Cody looks down at the chainstays and says, "Whoa, what's that!?" I look down and can see that the frame is broken right at both chainstays...damn! AJ completely deflates and almost looses it. "It's alright!" I say. "Don't worry about it!" "It'll be just fine!" "The good thing is is that you're O.K...it's just a bike!" It takes me all of about .30 seconds to realize that our day is done. We get back to the car AJ sits on the back of the car, looks up at me and says, "Dad, you should still race." Dawn agrees and I start to entertain the thought. But quickly snap out of it. "The only reason we're here is so that you can earn enough points for your upgrade bud." I say. "That's the only reason I even registered." "No, forget it...we're done." There's no way I could let AJ sit on the side of the road, all banged up, being forced to watch as his Dad races his bike. Having to explain what happened a hundred times over to concerned people wondering why he wasn't racing. Having to dwell on the fact that his frame was broken, that he wasn't able to get his CAT3 upgrade before the end of the season...I don't think so. <br />
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We roll over to Riteaid, spend $50 on first aid supplies and head to the park so that we can properly patch my boy up. Bandaid has this wonderful new antiseptic wash that has Lidocaine in it. The gash on his elbow is fairly deep and I've got to look and make sure there's no debris in it. The wash has a little hole in it which allows you to irrigate wounds really well. I squeeze and proceed to deep clean the cut. It's pretty deep. It might need a few stitches. I finish cleaning and patching him up and we hit the road. I call JB who lives in Yuba City to say hey and tell him what had happened. Without skipping a beat he asks, "How tall is AJ?" "6' 2"" I reply. "Me too!" He says. "AJ can use my Orbea that's just been hanging in my garage." Sweet! Man...we've had the good fortune to come to know some pretty wonderful people in the past few years, and J and Diane are two of them. <br />
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We're just about home and I look back and ask AJ, "How would it have felt, sitting there, watching from the side of the road as your Dad raced his bike?" He sat there for a few seconds looking out the window, turned to me and said, "It would have sucked Dad." <br />
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So, I'm sitting there, first thing in the morning, the sun wasn't even up yet, blinking, trying to open my eyes and up pops this little email;<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;">Your upgrade request has been approved and the USCF database has been updated to reflect you are now a Cat 3 on the road. Since the road season is almost over and I will not send you an upgrade sticker but when you go to renew your license it will show you as a Cat 3 on the road. If you will be racing again this season you can use a copy of this message as proof of your category<br />
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Casey</span><br />
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Sweet.....but a little bitter too...if we could have only got it a day sooner...oh well...he's got it...finally, and I'm proud of my boy. <br />
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Thanks for reading.<br />
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</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-28055540041514004212009-09-17T11:25:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:51:31.797-07:00Folsom Cyclebration 09 (AJ)"This is the song I want reverberating in your head whenever you feel the wind on your face!" We were on our way to the Folsom Circuit race early Sunday morning, the third and final day of racing in this years Folsom Cyclebration Omnium. The song was "Use Somebody" by the Kings of Leon. In an effort to get him to understand the importance of conserving his energy, I told him, "Today, I better not see you at all!" Meaning that he'd better be tucked behind a wheel and out of the wind. It's something that both of us have a problem doing. We love mixing it up and would rather have our face in the wind forcing something to happen than sitting in, bored to death. However, doing that can have a detrimental effect on ones attempt at finishing well. "Today, we practice hiding." Referring to him of course. For me, it was no doubt going to be another day of pressing my face into the wind, chasing, covering, and sacrifice for the team. It's been a season full of scrubbing, lotioning, and flossing for me. It's hard work keeping this 25 year old face looking this pretty. ;)<br />
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<span class="fullpost">AJ was competing in the Elite 4 category and trying to earn his last few points for his CAT 3 upgrade. It was a last minute decision really. We didn't have a TT bike so I figured I'd just register him for the crit and circuit races. He came to me and asked if he could do the Omnium, I couldn't say no. With just a few hours to spare, I reg'd him then immediately posted to both my team and the DBC list serve's asking if anyone had a TT rig he could borrow. The response I received from the DBC list serve was unexpected, and amazing. In the end, EOB (Eric O'Brien) a teammate of mine came through with the bike, and local Pro <a href="http://paulmach.com/">Paul Mach</a> came through with a set of wheels. AJ was in awe. "There's 3 World Championships on these wheels!" Paul said as he handed the wheels off to AJ. He was enchanted, as if he'd had some sort of pixie dust sprinkled on him, he didn't walk back to the truck, he floated. He didn't say a word the entire drive home, just sat there, smiling. We got home and he disappeared into the garage. <br />
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AJ's never been on a true, bona fide TT bike, neither have I for that much, never been able to afford one really. He hasn't even had his clip-ons on since last year so I was worried he'd trash himself. The Time Trial is such a different animal all together and he'd spent ZERO time working on it this year. I was worried he'd do more damage to his psyche than anything else. <br />
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I walk into the garage after a few hours. AJ's focused. He's oblivious to everything around him. Cleaning, lubeing, coddling his new toy, a loaner, but his, if just for the next few days. I sit there for a moment, watching, smiling. "Hey bud." He looks up, the resolute look on his face quickly changed to a warm, lighthearted smile as he seemed to exhale every ounce of intensity and anxiousness and breathe for the first time since escaping to the garage some 2 hours earlier. It was as if I'd caught him doing something that he new he shouldn't be, but, at the same time, knowing I wouldn't be mad at him for it. "Time for bed bud." "I'm almost done." he replied. "It's late bud, don't worry, it'll be ready by tomorrow." He quickly wipes the bottom side of the downtube running his rag from the bottom of the head tube down to the bottom bracket giving a few extra scrubs to the bottom bracket housing. Looked back up to me, smiled, then threw the rag to the work bench and walks past me and into the house. Usually we just exchange "Goodnight's" and that's it, off to bed. But this evening, he catches me completely by surprise, startles me really. He walks up to me and gives me the biggest hug. It felt foreign. <br />
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We stopped hugging and giving "see ya later kisses" back when he was 12. I used to drop him off at the bus stop before heading to work. One day, instead of a hug and a kiss on the cheek, he sat in the passenger seat, looked at me with an uneasy look on his face and said, "Ok Dad, I'll see you later." and waited for my reply. Time stood still. It too took me by surprise. I looked at him, focused on his big blue eyes and over his left shoulder I could see his friends watching. I smile, he smiles back. He understands, that I understand. "Ok bud, have a good day. I love you man." In relief he says, "Love you too Dad." Opens the door, gets out, and closes it without looking back. I was a little devastated to be honest. Took a deep breath and drove to work. Cat's in the Cradle started playing in my head. The day was a bit darker. <br />
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His arms wrapped around my shoulders, I felt so small. I wrapped my arms under his and after a second, remembered. "There's my boy" I thought to myself. "There's my little buddy." My heart smiled as I chuckled over his shoulder, "You're excited huh?" "Hyeah, I am." he chuckled back. "Me too." "I love you." "See you in the morning." "G'night bud." "Love you too, g'night Dad." <br />
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Off to the garage I went. <br />
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I take his bike off the trainer, put the talismanic disc on the rear, and off he goes to the start line. I frantically throw everything in the truck, lock it up, and jump on AJ's bmx bike and pedal my ass off trying to make it to the start line before he goes off. In flip-flops, sweating my butt off, I ride by, offering words of encouragement to my teammates who are warming up, as I pass them. "AJ looked sick in the Rock Kit!" a teammate says. AJ doesn't have a skin suit and was going to borrow one from Cody, his teammate. When we picked up the suit, we both noticed it was ripped. He'd gone down in it. Bad Mojo. I could see AJ's eye's fill with anxiety. I grab my skin suit from behind my seat and throw it to him. Grinning from ear to ear, "Awe coool Dad!" Felt like Mean Joe Green throwing that kid his jersey for giving him his coke. I was stoked. I secretly wanted him to wear it anyway, which is why I brought it. He did look sick! <br />
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I fly by the registration table, field a few comments from friends a acquaintances in reference to my geeked out TT ride and hammer my way to the start line. I'm pedaling frantically down the right side of the canal, must have been averaging about 150 cadence, hugging the shoulder so as not to interfere with people warming up. A fellow cyclist comes up along side me and says, "NOW THAT'S THE WAY TO WARM UP!" Absolutely scared the living shit out of me and sent me flailing into the ditch. "OH SHIT!" I reply as I careen down the trough of the ditch from one side to the other before regaining control and easing my way out of it. Frazzled I look up and see AJ thundering off. "F#&%!" At the time I had no idea what had transpired before they released him. I ride up to the finish line where I wait, impatiently. After about 20 minutes and 10,000 strained looks up the road, there he comes. I run about 30 yards up from the finish line and scream, "DIG!" as he flies past me tucked, every muscle in his body straining to get as small as he could possibly get. He grips the aero bars, his legs crash down on the pedals with every rotation, his knees brushing the top tube, fully adorned in his Haka face, he crosses the line. <br />
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I jump on the bmx bike and off I go, again, spinning so fast I'm bobbing, trying to catch up to him. I ride up beside him, he wants nothing to do with me. He ride's up ahead, glancing back at me, avoiding me. He's upset. "Hey!" I yell. Nothing. "HEY!" again, nothing. "AJ!" He finally looks back. "Slow down!" We get back to the start line, ride passed everyone before he slows enough for me to ride up next to him and starts to tell me what happened. <br />
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Apparently, as the guys at the bike shop gave him a last minute fitting the night before the TT, they locked out the rear deraileur effectively giving him Jr. gears, or so we thought. Well, when we put the "Talismanic" Paul Mach rear wheel on, it had different gearing which made him over geared. Not by much, but enough for him to be deemed illegal. They've let him race with similar gearing in the past, so I was more than just a little upset. Well, they just kept him there, not really sure what to do. His # came and passed. He sat there shattered, as the seconds ticked by. Finally he asked what the heck was going on. The officials looked at each other and said, well, we might as well let him go. So, a full minute after his official start time, they release him. I went to the official, who was listening to no one. Asked him what was going to happen. After my 3rd attempt to get an answer or even be acknowledged, he said, "Well, his time is his time and there's nothing we could do." "But you held him a full minute and a half before releasing him!" I said. "Yeah, well, we shouldn't have released him at all!" Can't argue with that I guess. I had AJ roll his bike over to the official taped rollout line for Jr's, and sure enough, he was over...barely. So, I looked at AJ and said, "Don't worry about it bud!" You can't use Omnium points towards your upgrade anyway, we'll just focus on Crit and the Circuit. It did little to ease his frustration. <br />
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We arrive in plenty of time for a good warm up for the crit the next day. I've got 6 teammates in the top 10 of the GC's in 2 different categories, so I register for the Elite 3 crit as well as the Masters 123's, but that's a different story all together. <br />
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AJ spends the majority of the race no less than 4-5 wheels from the front and most of it, in the wind closing gaps and chasing the whole pack back on to break attempts and primes. As a result, he comes in somewhere in the top 20 for the sprint. After sitting there watching him work, I had a feeling that this was going to happen judging by his body language and the look on his face throughout the race. His mom was there making matters worse. It's not often that she comes to watch, and when she does, he wants so badly to do well that often times he goes out too hard, too fast and overcooks himself. This day was no different. Oh well, all we can do now is hope for a good showing at the Circuit race the next day.<br />
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I made the mistake of not signing him up for the Jr's Crit and I wasn't going to make the same mistake this day. Though it was a much harder race I knew that AJ wanted to redeem himself for the previous days performance. It was going to be a long day. His first race was at 10:20 and his last race wasn't until 5:15. We make our way through the traffic, surprised that there's so much so early in the day. We're lucky. As soon as we pull into the jam packed parking lot there's a huge SUV just leaving. We're just across form the Start/Finish. AJ bolts out of the truck and over to registration. He's already signed up for he E4 Omnium, so the Jr race will only be $10. We're rushing, trying to get him ready. We both know that he's running late, but we purposely avoid mentioning it so as not to freak him out. Just then, Cody rides up, "Dude, are you doing the Jr's with me!?!" "You'd better hurry!" We both turn and snap at the kid, basically telling him to shut up! In stereo it comes out much worse than either of us intended. Poor kid. <br />
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Have I told you how much I love watching this kid race? I'm watching from about 50' away. Far enough to be unattached, yet close enough to still see the expressions on their faces. They're all sitting at the start line waiting for the whistle. They're announcing the top 3 kids in the Jr's Omnium and AJ's applauding and congratulating the younger riders as they make their way to the front. Most of the older Jr's are registered in their respective Category Omnium's so they're just doing this race as an add on like AJ and Cody. I sit there watching, still amazed at this young man sitting on his top tube looking all grown up, all serious. He looks familiar, he resembles the little boy that I used to know, that used to be full of questions and used to look up to, and at me. Who used to watch and study my actions, my words, and try and emulate them. He glances over at me, all serious and focused. I give him a nod and that little boy emerges for just a brief moment and flashes a big smile. I find comfort knowing that I can still see that in him. Something that no one else can see. Often times I sit and watch others around him watching him. They can't see it...but I can. <br />
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I spend the majority of the race running from the Start/Finish line to the fence that runs along the side of the overpass where I could see the boys round the last corner after the 180 and hammer down the onramp to the bridge cheering my boy on. He sits around mid pack for the majority of the race and is doing a wonderful job of staying hidden. I see him closing a few gaps here and there, but he's looking much more comfortable today as opposed to yesterday. The pack blows through the start finish and I hear voices from everywhere cheering my boy on. Cody, his teammate is doing a fine job of stringing things out, forcing the selection to be made. They come around for the final lap and AJ's sitting comfortable right around 6th wheel. They round the last corner and all at once I see a kid in a white kit jump, then another kid jumps and AJ follows. He's a little late in his reaction but still manages to make up some ground as he throws his bike around in what seems to be a full body conniption and grabs a solid 3rd place. Saweet! I'm all welled up with pride as I realize that it's AJ's first podium in his bike racing career. I'm overcome. I run up and give him the biggest hug. I'm so proud I can't even handle it. I have no words...believe it or not. Everybody's congratulating him. All of my teammates both new and old all come through at one time or another congratulating, patting him on the back, hugging, high fiving...it's awesome!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhRPvCCAwEQZHiekfkKz-JbRQozveCq1JB1cv84YLdBUoaRSTrtZBTguSCx5j22n2zlVNNnwVBHtAsIJgT0oiOlNHyLCVwq2r3zFKSWdyZueRR3QHqOb9pTSGflSow3uQC_Zui1Wb9sI/s1600-h/AJ+Folsom+09+Jr%27s.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384826438522954402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhRPvCCAwEQZHiekfkKz-JbRQozveCq1JB1cv84YLdBUoaRSTrtZBTguSCx5j22n2zlVNNnwVBHtAsIJgT0oiOlNHyLCVwq2r3zFKSWdyZueRR3QHqOb9pTSGflSow3uQC_Zui1Wb9sI/s320/AJ+Folsom+09+Jr%27s.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
So we're sitting beside the truck relaxing after his first race when Justin and Chad walk up. After racing with Chad in the E3 crit the day before and moving him from 3rd to 2nd in the overall standings I was undecided about a 2nd day of near back to back efforts. My legs were still tired. In the end, I let Justin talk me out of doing the E3 Circuit, a decision that I'd later regret. But again, that's another story.<br />
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His 2nd race also happened to be the last race of this years festivities. Most people had left, but there's still a fairly large crowd. My race had just ended so AJ was going to have to get warmed up and be to the line without any help from Dad. I wasn't worried. Dawn had come out with Isabel so I knew that she'd make sure he was good to go. Not that AJ couldn't take care of himself, but making sure that every things put away and locked up so nothing "walks off" is another thing. It's nice having someone there to help with all of that. <br />
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He managed to stay "hidden" for the most part in the Jr's race which is why he was able to podium, but being that it was his 2nd race of the day in a faster, larger field he wasn't expecting anything spectacular. I'm standing at the Start/Finish cooling down with Judd, Eric, Carol irving, and Heather, Judd's girlfriend. It's so cool listening and watching all the people who've come to know my boy fairly well these past few years cheer him on every time he passes. It's a little overwhelming to be honest with you. Looking around at not only all of our friends, but many folks who know him that I've never met. I realize that AJ's had a lasting effect on lots of these people. Some are parents of kids he's helped mentor, and some are parents of kids he's raced against all season. I can't tell you how many times I've been approached by perfect strangers asking me if I'm AJ's Dad. "Yes, I am" I say with a smile as they proceed to tell me about my son and the impression he's made or the effect he's had on their child. I'm telling you, it's times like these that really afford me the opportunity to appreciate the things that matter the most. All of the trials and troubles that life brings seem to pale and, at least in that moment, fall by the wayside and are in fact inconsequential. Just as he did in his earlier race, I watch as he stays right around mid pack and easily rolls by lap after lap. In fact, he's doing such a good job of "staying hidden" that I don't even see him a few times, causing Dad's heart rate to spike unnecessarily! Dang it! <br />
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I hear them announce "One lap to go!" My heart's pumping, adrenaline is off the charts. I run to the side of the road, about 60 meters up from the Start/Finish line and wait. I've chewed a hole right into the inside of my lower lip from all the excitement. All bunched up, they round the last corner and explode towards the Start/Finish line. At first I can't see AJ, but all at once, I see him. He's huge! He fire's out from behind a wheel like a chained Rottwieler, not looking anything like that little boy I used to know. He's a Beast...a rabid animal, sweating, spitting grunting, foaming at the mouth hunched over his bike violently throwing it from side to side pouring himself over the handlebars. I'm waving my arms in the air like a crazy chicken screaming, "DIG, DIG, DIG!" as he fly's past me. I hear the sound that we all hate to hear. It's worse than nails scraping across a black board, worse than teeth grinding, worse than utensils scraping the bottom of a plate over and over again. It's the sound of rubber, precious metals, carbon, and human flesh impacting the ground at an accelerated rate of speed. It's happening right in front of me not 8" away and misses be by less than that...but I can't be bothered, every ounce of my attention is focused on my son as he hurls his body and bike down the road. It's not until I see him cross the Finish line unscathed and at the front of the pack that my attention goes to the young man laying just 10 ft. from me. I rush over, pick his bike up, reattach his Power Tap computer, lay it to the side of the road. He's already being attended to by a few others and I hear a gentleman proclaim that he's his son. Been there, not a happy feeling. It's down right frightening in fact. It's not until I make my way across the road and to AJ that I find that he missed the top spot on the podium by just a few inches. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavR6TnIZFFtozuHYZhCF0MbEUMnRyYZJXO9OjVos9HKKrC0R_kouv_IFt4dKRGkdePrCcvnmiE2RtRZO-6vdjOpGwcQE2mDZvJ8Mal7XxHqCRrWVK-b79nYQ0Oc_BCd_kURWCwweSMuU/s1600-h/AJ+Folsom+09+E4.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384827206922002018" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavR6TnIZFFtozuHYZhCF0MbEUMnRyYZJXO9OjVos9HKKrC0R_kouv_IFt4dKRGkdePrCcvnmiE2RtRZO-6vdjOpGwcQE2mDZvJ8Mal7XxHqCRrWVK-b79nYQ0Oc_BCd_kURWCwweSMuU/s320/AJ+Folsom+09+E4.jpeg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uuJ5-fDSSGaWTT-0dTvSkwnOhxROMetdDVcaanNeqRS8m1DRQjYPCCdbbsQcsQdjbqlIcqdt2cpIhQjZQxBHMdG_VF3uPGpmW8NcTVJ84U7S5zjlp6bs13I1duVg4I1ViaBcshm308I/s1600-h/AJ+Folsom+09+E4+omnium.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384827588623243330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0uuJ5-fDSSGaWTT-0dTvSkwnOhxROMetdDVcaanNeqRS8m1DRQjYPCCdbbsQcsQdjbqlIcqdt2cpIhQjZQxBHMdG_VF3uPGpmW8NcTVJ84U7S5zjlp6bs13I1duVg4I1ViaBcshm308I/s320/AJ+Folsom+09+E4+omnium.jpeg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
Again, I'm absolutely overwhelmed, not only by the fact that it's his 2nd podium of the day, but by the amount of people that are approaching him, congratulating, hugging, high fiving him...it's a feeling that I could definitely get used to. JB's there, Judd, EOB, and Mike Jacques, a new teammate comes up, gives him a huge hug, grabbing AJ's shoulders coming out of the hug, turns to me and says, "Dude, I don't even have kids, but this so awesome, I'm so proud!" Totally cool man! Tow-ta-lly cool! Good thing I've got glasses on. They can't see my eyes well up with tears. With the amount of people hollering at AJ, you'd have thought he won it. He looks at me with the biggest smile I think I've ever seen. We embrace each other squeezing and not wanting to let go. After the podium ceremony he comes up and pats me on the back so hard that my Blackberry goes flying out of my hand and into 4 pieces once it hits the ground...I don't even care. Not only did he grab 2nd in the race, but managed to pull himself into 4th place in the Omnium...3 podiums in one day. Perspective? If that doesn't give you a little....I don't know what will. <br />
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Thanks for reading.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXtdVp1AbkeM-oJqmuKkkYBALIr4K74IBesODjJ3DxRiLW6rbwLC4pqU3Kvq9gU7WhVzXM8QnKt03t7RIWdEBIdBHuwjuogfo6qGWtB4aDfRXNdui9nMINiWPeHJA7Ta_5OuzX_U2AmY/s1600-h/AJ+Folsom+09.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385035333646199314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXtdVp1AbkeM-oJqmuKkkYBALIr4K74IBesODjJ3DxRiLW6rbwLC4pqU3Kvq9gU7WhVzXM8QnKt03t7RIWdEBIdBHuwjuogfo6qGWtB4aDfRXNdui9nMINiWPeHJA7Ta_5OuzX_U2AmY/s320/AJ+Folsom+09.jpeg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
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</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-52012928486966825852009-08-31T15:40:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:52:47.427-07:00Winters Road Race"I love my bike...I just don't want to ride it anymore!" These words started as a whisper back in the deep crevices of the vast emptiness of my mind about a month ago but have recently become more of a motto, more of a mantra that I've begun to try to put to music during my last few races...have yet to strike that perfect cord though...so, I pedal on.<br />
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<span class="fullpost">Hey Bud...talk to me!" I say as I ride up in my flip-flops. He'd just crossed the finish line. I throw my right leg back and over the saddle while lifting up on the handle bar with my left hand. Pushing down on the saddle with my right hand, I hop off as I hurl my bike to the left, letting go of it completely, sending it into orbit. My natural satellite much like the moon is to the earth. I reach up, grab the stem, rescuing it from it's moment of suspended animation, seemingly sending every other moving object back to it's natural trajectory. In a movement as natural as brushing the hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear, it comes to rest at my side. For some reason, the instantaneous snapshot of that very moment is branded into my memory. How, I don't know, because my eyes never left AJ's face.<br />
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The man standing over him turns to me and asks, "Do you know him?" "He's my son." I reply. He looks at me with a befuddled look. Never turning my attention from AJ I kneel down to get a closer look. He's sitting in the shade, slumping. His elbows resting on his knees, his head, heavy, bowing between them. I say, "Come on, get up!" as I stand up. This time with a tone that was less concerned as it was demanding. Still looking at me, I could see the expression on the man's face turn from befuddled to one of contempt. "Come on! Get up Bud!" I grab his bike, and forcefully hold it out to him and say, "Come on! Use your bike to steady you...let's go!" He was struggling, but he hadn't puked or shite himself and I needed to get him across the street to the sprinklers. He's too damned big to carry so I had to get him up and moving. Besides, I knew my son.<br />
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My race started 10 minutes after his. We'd arrived in plenty of time. Got his #'s pinned on and made sure he was all set. He'd wanted to get in a bit of a warm up, so off he went while I continued to get ready. I walk down to use the restroom one last time and when I return to the truck, I noticed my bike was missing. The 3 guys that were parked right next to me had been there the whole time. They hear me say, "Alright, who took my F'n bike!?!" They all turn and say something along the lines of, "Oh shit man!" "You've got to be kidding me!" "We never saw a thing!" They were serious. Goes to show you how fast and easy it is to have your stuff taken. Even in a parking lot with hundreds of cyclists mulling around and getting ready. I see something out of the corner of my eye...It's Fonseca, hiding behind his car, laughing. There my bike was, sitting in the gravel across the parking lot behind his truck, relieved now that I'd finally found her. I walk over, "Very funny guys!" We chat for a few minutes about how much I love my Nago, guess it's the bike they're getting for next year. I head back to finish getting ready. It put me about 10 minutes behind schedule and rattled my nerves a bit. Nice.<br />
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So the "plan" was to let the "Grimpeurs," or "climbers" go and reel them back on the flats and to basically work to bring back anything that got away while keeping JB tucked safely out of the wind, saving him for what should have been a podium finish. Since Judd wasn't with us, he was by far our strongest teammate in the race. Having raced with him all year, I knew how strong he was in comparison to the rest of the team. It was an easy decision to make. Well, having a well thought plan is one thing, carrying it out is something all together different. The truth is, you never know what you'll have to give, let alone your teammates. Not only that, but how much of it you, or they are willing to give to "The Team." It's a common problem on teams both new and well established from what I've gathered. Even those that seem to have it together share in this jostling of team members, all vying for their shot. Individuals who have personal goals that are not exactly in line with what we're trying to do as a team. We've all been there. We feel good, we feel that if we were the one sitting in, we'd be just as likely to podium as anyone. So, we sit in, or we do just enough to look as though we're doing our job, while at the same time, saving just a little bit for the finish. Or, we disagree with the overall plan so we remove ourselves from it all together. I know, I've done it, and I've also learned that it's just no the way to do it. What's good is that we're all hungry. We all strive to be better, stronger, faster. We all train hard and deserve our shot just as much as that "next guy". The only thing is, more often than not, that "next guy" is a teammate who's just flat out stronger than we are. It's a tough pill to swallow for some of us. Tough to accept. We'll get it. We've already proven that we can pull together as a team so I'm not worried. Some days are just better than others. <br />
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Like me, AJ tends to get a little emotional at times. Though unlike me, he's a little better at "not" wearing them on his sleeve. He'd given everything he had. He was completely spent. He was also...disappointed. <br />
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We walk across the street and rest the bikes up against a tree. I'm watching him closely. His respirations were shallow and rapid. He leans his bike gently against the tree, it begins to slip, I grab it and tell him to walk over to the sprinkler and stick his head in it. He slowly walks over. His steps are short and focused. He leans over, fills his bottle and pours it over his head. He takes a few deep breathes and begins to settle down. After a few moments of drenching himself and drinking, he's completely gathered himself. To make sure he's ok, I tell him to rinse his cleats off which by now had become caked with mud. Testing not only his motor skills, but mental capacity as well. Wondering how long it'll take him to realize that there was no way he could effectively get all the mud off because he was in fact, standing in a mud puddle.<br />
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You know that scene in Jumanji where the kid runs to the wood shed for the ax, finds the woodshed locked and picks up "the ax," the very thing he was looking for, which was leaning up against the shed, and just as he's about to break the lock to the shed, realizes it? Well, that's the look AJ gives me after trying to re-rinse his right cleat. We both smile. He's good. We jump on the bikes to head back the the truck and he begins to tell me what happened. <br />
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His race started 10 minutes before mine. I'd just returned from a quick 20 minute jaunt down Putah Creek Rd. and was already dripping with perspiration. My gloves were already soaked through. I arrive just in time to see his start. He's calm, looking poised and confident. He had about 5 other members of DBC Elite squad racing with him...I liked his chances. I watch as he clips in. Relaxed and looking like he was born to do this, he easily rolls by, glancing my way for a quick nod. He's so damned mature now.<br />
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The whistle blows and we're off. First lap so no one is expecting anything to happen, at least nothing of any significance. Well, within the first 5 miles, 4 guys manage to get off the front. I'm sitting about mid pack and watch as they roll off, taking a peek every so often by standing on the pedals and "Giraffing" is what I like to call it. Stretching as tall as I can get out of the saddle without letting go of the hoods trying to see what's going on up the road. <br />
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First time through the feed zone. I'd started with 3 bottles so I slam down the remainder of my first and drop it. I didn't grab another since I had 2 full one's and wasn't at all thirsty. I roll up to Justin on the first roller and he offers me a bottle holding it out for me to grab. "I'm good bro, don't need it!" "SHIT!" he replies as he's diggin' deep to get up the hill. The first time over Cantelow is...tame. The group pretty much stays together. Justin chases back on. JB's been close to the front and I see him start looking around after a few miles down PV Road. No doubt wondering where his teammates were. Chad heads up to the front and takes a quick turn at the front before I pull through and begin to ratchet it up. I flick my arm and pull left to allow the next rider to pull through to continue the rotation, but there's no one. I look back and see Greg Anderson smiling at me with another of his teammates sitting on his wheel. I see JB back there around 5th wheel and Chad a few wheels behind him. Greg's got a teammate up in the break and isn't pulling through. I turn my attention back to the front, lower my head and start turning it up believing that shortly there after, one of my teammates would rotate up to help. I pull for a solid mile and a half before Justin comes up just before we turn right on Putah Creek. I'm thankful. He and I take turns at the front, rotating through, we find a smooth rhythm when Mike Jacques comes up to lend a hand. Mike's new to the team and is already proving to be a huge asset. He joins in and we press on. The 3 of us hammer for a few miles rotating one after the other, smooth, flawless. I feel myself well up with pride. After a few miles I tell them to throttle back a bit and allow someone else to come up and take a turn. I pull wide right and wave back to the guys to see if anyone would come up. Nothing. I float back to see what was going on and see JB sitting on Metcalfe's wheel. I lower my right hand and signal to J. "Go ahead Jas" he says as he slows just enough, opening a gap allowing me to slot in. I figure if Metcalfe was going to go, I didn't want JB to have to work to get back up to his wheel so, there I sat for the rest of the lap up to the rollers. Justin and Mike completely crucify themselves for about 10 miles, giving everything they had to bring back the break. I'm proud of them. I watch as they take turns with a few other guys at the front, sacrificing themselves for the good of the team. I want to join them, but I want to make sure I've got something for the last lap to give to JB figuring that the rest of the team must have been feeling a bit sub par since I hadn't seen any of them come up to lend a hand.<br />
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The 2nd time up the climb was a bit harder. I found myself finishing the last of my 2 bottles and grabbing 2 more. EOB was awesome in the feed zone. Producing bottle after bottle, feeding his famished, depleted teammates. Rod Fernandez, an ex teammate of ours with DBC was also there lending a hand. Cool. I've definitely got to get better at that. I was gapped the first time through the feed zone and had to hammer hard to get back on. This time was no different. Only this time, I wasn't able to get back on before the decent. Off the back baby! I pass Chad on the second roller and say, "Let's go big guy!" He jumps on my wheel as we hit the first decent. <br />
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Back before hitting the feed zone, just before Steiger Rd. we'd passed the 30+ field...actually, we flew around them like they were standing still. Well, just before we hit the steep part on Cantelow, I'm starting to pass 2 guys on my right and just before clearing both of them, the 30+ field is starting to pass me. Some A-HOLE pushes on my left hip. It takes everything I've got to prevent from slamming into the guy to my right while screaming at the A-HOLE to keep his F'ING hands off me. He flips me off and tells me to fall back if I'm not with his field. What a DICK! As I'm re-gathering myself to hammer up the road and give him a piece of my mind, I get a huge shove from behind. The guy pushes me right up next to the A-HOLE and I crank hard and bump his bar with my left hip as I fly by him. I look back to see him freak out and struggle to stay upright. I slow allowing him to catch back up expecting some sort of exchange. He keeps his head down and says nothing. Once again I let my temper and emotions get the better of me, I dump the adrenaline all over my bike as I summit. I'm gasping for air and gears at the same time trying to keep my momentum up and over the top setting up for the decent. <br />
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I've done this decent hundreds of times and know it like the back of my hand. Only difference is, we've got the whole road and don't have to worry about oncoming traffic. I hammer. I'm passing riders one after the other. Cutting corners at 40+ miles an hour, reaching 45 at the base. I love my bike. Chad catches back on about a mile down Pleasant Valley. "Ouch, that hurt!" he says as he pulls up to my wheel. We're joined by a group from the 30+ field. One of the guys says, "Hey man, I was the one that helped you back there, that dude was being an A'HOLE!" "Yes he was." "Thanks man!" I replied. <br />
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I'd just passed Rick Bradley who was with the lead group up over Cantelow but had flatted. "C'mon Rick, let's go!" I say as I passed by. I'd slowed a bit to allow him to catch on knowing he'd be a huge help in getting back to the main group. We spent the next 8 miles or so trying to chase back on, but saw no light at the end of the tunnel. My stomach had started cramping as well so Rick and I decided to call it a day after about a mile into the 3rd lap. I hated dropping out, but didn't think I'd be much help to the team at that point and was wanting to see the end of AJ's race. <br />
<br />
Turns out, Chad was able to chase back on but popped hard going into the feed zone. He'd pulled off to the side of the road and was grabbing a few bottles when AJ passed through looking strong heading up the hill for the 3rd and final time. Shortly after that, AJ flatted. He was sitting 3rd wheel with 3 of his fellow DBC elite's in a 7 man break. Now, I'm sure, or at least I'd like to think, that if they'd known that AJ was just a few points from achieving his CAT 3 upgrade, at least one of them would have offered up their wheel. But that wasn't the case. AJ was dropped. He was walking back to the feed zone when Chad rode up. Of course, AJ was absolutely distraught, after having been plagued by flats all year long and being forced, yet again, to watch, as his race left him standing at the side of the road. Chad asked, "What's wrong!?!" "I flatted!" Chad, being the cool-ass "Uncle" that he is, selflessly gave up his wheel and sent him on his way sacrificing the rest of his race. Everything happens for a reason...gotta love the Diesel.<br />
<br />
As AJ and I rode back to the truck, he began to explain what had happened in his race. I could tell he was trying hard to keep his voice from cracking. Pausing, taking a drink from his bottle, clearing his throat and trying to compose himself. My heart started to hurt. I apologized for raising my voice and seeming inconsiderate. I explained to him that I knew a lot of it had to do with the fact that he was disappointed in himself. He wanted to do well and I knew that he had it in him to win it. I told him that I knew he was a strong cyclist and that he'd just had some bad luck. That he didn't have to finish in the top 10 to impress me. Just finishing after a day like that was impressive enough. "I dropped out a mile into the 3rd lap!" I said. His head snapped around. Looking me right in the eye, he asked, "Really?" "Why?" "What happened?" "I was trashed man...done!" I replied. "So you're stronger than your "Old Man," that's for sure!" Still hoping that hearing that would somehow give him a sense of accomplishment. Not sure if it holds the water that it used to...I guess that's a good thing. No, I think he's reached that age where I just don't have all the answers anymore. The look on his face is one that, I'm sure, all of our Dads have seen at one point. A deep, despairing look. It was hard to look at him. It took me back to when he was just a little boy. His mom and I had been separated for only a short time. He missed his mom dearly. He looked up at me with those big blue eyes one night as I was tucking him in for bed and asked, "Da-ee, why doesn't Mommy live with us now?" I just sat there. How could I explain it in a way that he'd understand. I gently placed the heel of my left hand to the side of his forehead and softly let my fingers find there place as I brushed back his hair wiping the tiniest remnant of a tear with my trailing thumb from under his eye. I turned his head and cupped his little face with both of my hands being careful not to look too deeply into those eyes. I knew that this time would come at some point, thought about it often, and still, I didn't have the answer. At least not an answer that I thought would help him understand. I kissed him on his forehead and offered my explanation. The look he gave back then, is the exact look I was seeing some 13 years later. I felt empty, unworthy, inadequate. I wondered when my Dad had seen this look and what he said. Then I remembered, I was 22, AJ's Mom was pregnant with him. I was thinking about asking her to marry me. I drove over to the house. My Dad was in the garage, as usual, and Mom was in the house making dinner, as usual. Dad was working on one of the vehicles, I walked up and started helping. He knew why I was there. We shot the shit for a while, just small talk. Then, after a pause that seemed like 5 minutes, I asked him. "I'm thinking about asking Michelle to marry me." "What do you think." Without turning his attention from what he was doing, without looking me in the eye, he offered up his answer. "Well, it could be a lot worse." and turned and walked over to his workbench and went about his business. Did he feel the same way I did? Is that why he couldn't look me in the face? Did he know at that point that he didn't have the answers to my troubles? <br />
<br />
Trying to turn his focus to something else, I continued to explain why I was so stern with him earlier. I told him that we all have a choice to make when we reach that level of exhaustion. We can either sit there and allow our bodies to systematically start shutting down, or we can get up and do something about it. I told him that by simply getting up and moving around it allowed his body to start cooling down by evaporating his sweat. Getting to the sprinkler was just the carrot, at first, then of course, drenching himself probably saved him from having to have medical attention. <br />
<br />
It's been a tough year for AJ. He's had some terrible luck with flats. That, combined with a few selfish teammates has made it a very difficult year to stomach for both of us. It's tough when there's nothing you can do but sit back and watch as your son continues to learn that there are some things that you just have to accept. Things that you have absolutely no control over. I envy his strength. His ability to deal with each obstacle as it presents itself and put it behind him amazes me. His resilience. His patience. He's teaching me. <br />
<br />
As for our race...JB ended up grabbing 9th overall...and that's about all I have to say about it. A learning experience I'm sure...for all of us. <br />
<br />
Onward and Upward!<br />
<br />
I love my bike...I just don't want to ride it anymore...<br />
<br />
Thank you for reading.</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-68663182131228408512009-08-19T09:07:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:53:47.893-07:00Dunnigan Hills/Thrills/sans spills"This isn't what I had planned for the day!" I say to Jason as I pull through right smack into the cross/head wind for my 3rd rotation just 5 miles into a 90 mile road race. Was it experience, or lack thereof, maybe a bit of both? I dunno, but Rick Bradley and Chris Baker were with us, so you decide. First break attempt of the day, I was close enough to the front to react, didn't see any of my teammates in it and we were one of, if not the biggest team out there with 8 guys. So, I covered.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a> <br />
<br />
<span class="fullpost">It was great to see so many members of my "Wolf Pack" out there with me. For the majority of the season we've never had more than 2 or 3 guys in most of our races so it was cool to have some company for this slugfest. We had Judd Van Sickle, Jason Boynton, Robbin Van Valkenburgh, Eric O'Brien, Chad Demasi, Sean Smith, Stephen Janke, and myself. <br />
So there I was, red lining just 5.5 miles into a 90 mile road race. I just couldn't get those little friggin' #'s on my computer to drop below 185 bpm. I keep reminding myself that my max is 196 so I've got it in me. It does little to quiet the screaming voice in my head...or was it my body, at times like this, they tend to come at me in Dolby Surround Sound so it's hard to tell who's saying what. I take a peek back to see that we've got a pretty good gap so I lower my chin to my chest and drill it. <br />
I think one of the problems of being such a new team is that we really haven't figured out our abilities, both as individuals, and as a team. Being a Masters team it's even tougher. Life sometimes has a way of redirecting priorities what with family, work and such. Only getting to race but once a month with most of my teammates makes it difficult to gauge on another's fitness level. Up to this point, we've pretty much let the races dictate who's "The Guy" through attrition. Working for one another when the opportunity presented itself. This was one of those races.<br />
I guess everyone was feeling the same way I was. That rush of adrenaline and feeling of urgency and excitement that comes with being off the front had left us as I look back and see why. Kevin Metcalfe is hammering at the front and we're brought back. Just before the peleton envelops us, Rick comes up and says, "Be ready, the next time we hit this section it's gonna go!" <br />
Well, I'm warm now! I fold back into the shelter of the pack and attempt to recover. The winds were forecast at 8 mph but, as usual, they were way off. I drift back about 15 spots as we hit the overpass at 505 and it's immediately guttered. We're pummeled by the cross/head wind that seems to have gained another 10 mph as it smears the peleton across the road. Centerline rule is strictly enforced so it slams everyone against the yellow line. Like pieces of driftwood in heavy surf, the wind hurls us against it. A wall of desperate, diminishing riders, crouching, trying to get as small as they possibly can while struggling to find the slightest remnants of a slipstream from the wheel in front of them. I'm sitting about 20 wheels back. I know I've got to make my way up the wall and into the wind or risk getting gapped. So, I go. I jump up about 4 spots to Robin's wheel and let him know I'm there. I ask him to give me a little room. He moves 5" to the right, giving up what little draft he's getting to give me shelter. I tell him we've got to move up and without hesitation he jumps to the right and into the wind with me glued to his wheel. He delivers me toward the front as I pull up next to Judd. Again, I ask for a brief respite from the wind still feeling the earlier effort. Judd hesitates, then graciously, or maybe reluctantly gives up his sweet spot. Either way, he takes it on the chin for me. I sit for just a few seconds, enough to catch a few breaths, and jump to the front and back into the rotation giving Judd back his spot. <br />
By the end of the first lap, we've lost over half the field and half of our team. A few were able to catch back on, as we hit the first cross wind section for the 2nd time. I was told by Judd and Chad to stay in the rotation or risk getting guttered, then gapped so I do just that. Only thing is, it's me, Chris Baker, Stephen McCaw, and one other who are doing all of the work, rotating through, pulling everyone with us. At first I'm a bit frustrated. I wanted to do well and possibly place in this race so I thought I'd have at least one other teammate rotating with me to help keep my nose out of the wind or to help get another break established. After a few minutes, I'm over it as I realize that I've got Judd, JB, Robin, and Chad back there who are all riding just as strong, if not stronger than I am and we've got a great chance of winning this if we keep it tight and play our cards right. I start to ease into realizing that it's going to be a looong lap. <br />
Somewhere along the way Craig Roamer had gone off the front. We kept him within sight and let him dangle out there for a while. Then J goes up the road with Scott Fonseca and a few others. I rotate to the front and start thinking about jumping. I drift back a few wheels and nonchalantly move to my drops so as no to alert anyone of my intentions. I gently feather my thumb against my right shifter. I'm stealthy, I'm a tiger ready to pounce his prey, I'm a Ninja seconds away from launching his attack on his unsuspecting enemy, I'm....I'm...I'm too late! Judd jumps wide to the right with Chris Baker on his wheel and up the road they go. I watch as they throw their bikes from side to side, pouring themselves over their bars, powering away from the pack. I let out a silent scream, "NNNNOOOOOOOOO!" and reach my hand out, stretching in front of my bike in that despairing pose that we've all seen in those cheap, if not predictable movies where the hero or heroin has just lost a loved one and can't imagine another breath without them. Figuratively speaking of course. I can't go now. I'm stuck, left behind, a domestique once again. So, to the front I go with Chad and we proceed to slow the chase and allow the break to establish. There were a few flyers, but nothing serious. With all of the major teams represented in the break, controlling the chase wasn't that hard, but since we had 2 up, it was left to us to do it. Chad and I are on the front in the longer cross wind section and strike that all too familiar pose...the lean as we impale ourselves on the proverbial sword and heave our bikes and bodies into the unforgiving cross wind effectively doing what's expected of us. <br />
By the time we turn right onto Old Hwy 99 the break is long gone. With 10 miles to go, Scott Cole, the only Morgan Stanley rider in the break was dropped and falls back to the chase. The 2 MS riders who'd been sitting in for the most part jump to the front along with Metcalfe and start drilling it. I jump with them and in an instant, the chase group goes from 15 or so, to 8. Chad's still with me.<br />
Earlier, on our second trip through the feed zone I completely missed out. Daryl and his wife were cool enough to come out to work the feed zone for us. He and Chad had agreed to use make shift musette bags and have 5 or so bottles in them. As we roll up to the 1st feed zone I ask Chad, "Is Coach (Daryl) here, or at the 2nd feed zone?" "I'm not sure" he says. I start making my way to the right side as Chad yells, "He's here, he's here!" I'm not in position but I see Chad grab a bag from Coach two wheels up. I jump to the right and go to grab the bottle that Coach has produced with lightning quick speed and miss it. DOH! That's ok, Chad's got a bag full. I ride up to him and just as I'm about to ask him for a bottle, he's throwing the bag to the side of the road...empty. Robin, Sean, Judd, and Jason were with us and needed bottles just as bad as I did. Good thing I brought the 3rd bottle. I was still running low and knew I'd need a refill. "No problem bro, I'll share mine with you" Chad says. I was able to grab a bottle at the 2nd feed zone but ran out about 2 miles before that. In an instant, I was down to half a bottle. <br />
Metcalfe is an animal and takes monster pulls. I'm on his wheel as he flaps his right elbow. I pull through at 32 mph and the rotation continues. Only 4 of us are rotating though and I can't seem to get out from behind him. I know he's going to go, and I know that I'll be the one who has to respond. He hammers on and keeps flipping his damned elbow. I have to oblige. It must be some sort of Hammer Head code or something. I know I just don't want to be "that guy." You know, the guy who just sits in and does no work at all. Too much pride I guess. So, I pull through, again trying to silence the voices and am purposely NOT looking down at my computer. Besides, I've got Chad back there to respond if anyone goes. All at once, Rick and 2 Morgan Stanley guys attack. I'm on the front I wait for just a second hoping that someone else will respond so I can jump on their wheel, but no one does. I stand on the pedals and slam it to the right of the road looking to catch their draft, but it's too late, there's nothing there but wind. It snickers at me. It laughs at my futile attempt. It's NO friend of mine. I turn myself inside out in rebellion. I rage against it. I'm emptying myself and feel my body as it starts to systematically shut down. Again, I'm forced to sit and watch as they pull away from me. I've done the math. There goes 9th, 10th, and 11th. I fall back. I'm reduced to embers as I'd lit what I thought was the last match in the book. I slip to the back looking for Chad and a drink of water. Before I knew it, I was 2 bike lengths off the wheel in front of me. I look back and see nothing but the moto ref. Damn, something must have happened to Chad. Turns out, he'd hit a pot hole and cracked his carbon wheel. So it's down to Metcalfe, Cole, McCaw, some lame ass who's sitting at the back shaking his head saying he's got nothing left, and myself. I've got a mouth full of cotton, can hardly breath and we've got about 3 miles to go. McCaw goes and all I can do is watch. Then, the lame ass who had nothing left back about 2 miles ago drills it. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was bothered by it. Metcalfe looks over at me and says, "WTF man!?!" "I know bro!" I reply. "F that!" he says as he puts his forehead on his stem and drills it one last time. I pull through @ 30 mph as we catch him and set my sights on McCaw who's 100m up. As we hit the overpass for the final sprint I light the book with the last match and completely regurgitate my very essence all over the front of my bike. I cross the line, it's over...finally. I'm an empty shell. I can feel my skin flaking off in the wind as I'm completely reduced to ash. <br />
I see AJ and J off to the side but can't even lift my head to acknowledge them. I stop and almost fall over. I look up and see Judd. He's holding up his hand. I have to blink a few times to clear my eyes that have a sticky film of sweat, grime, and sunblock smeared thick across them. I squeeze my eyes and try to focus. Squinting I barely make out what he's trying to tell me...he's holding up 1 finger and trying his hardest to smile. He looks like I feel. Saweet...<br />
<br />
So Rocknasium takes it with Judd 1st, J grabs 6th, I end up 13th, and Chad, 20th. Yeah baby! <br />
<br />
The next day at Suisun. Judd grabs 2nd in the Masters 123's and 5th in the Pro 1-2's earning his last point for his CAT 1 upgrade. Awesome. <br />
<br />
As I'm walking back to the course with AJ to watch Judd in the P1-2's at Suisun, we're stopped by Chris Baker and Rick Bradley. "Bro, you were killing it yesterday man! You looked strong!" Chris says with Rick shaking his head in agreement. "Your team chemistry was awesome bro. You guys Rocked it!" <br />
Cool...<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading. </span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-77187542372334422622009-08-12T18:24:00.000-07:002009-08-31T15:34:35.333-07:00(8/16/08) Winters Road RaceIt's a beautiful thing to witness a well thought plan unfold just as we thought it would. Even more beautiful to be a part of it, not only a part of it, but the focal point. I gotta say that after following Mike Pugh, David Huang, and Karen Spores up Cantelow for the past three Tuesdays before the race rides and trying to stay on their wheels, made todays effort seem almost easy! (almost)<br /><span class="fullpost">After all the traffic on the list serve yesterday and seeing my name<br />bounce around, I was more than a little taken aback to be honest. I<br />just couldn't believe every one chiming in, offering to support me and<br />do whatever they could to get me a shot at a win. Something I never<br />expected being a newbie. A true display of selflessness. Then, as I sat<br />there reading all of the emails and being overcome with a feeling of<br />brotherhood and companionship...it hit me. I felt the blood rush from<br />my face. I saw that candid camera that everyone has on their entire<br />life zoom in for a close up of the look on my face. Then, at the speed<br />of life, zoom away. First to me siting at the table staring into my lap<br />top, then to the house, then to the city, then the state, then the<br />country, and finally stop at the moons eye view of the entire<br />planet...and the weight of it sitting squarely on my shoulders. "OH<br />SHITE! WHAT IF I CAN'T DELIVER...WHAT IF I DON'T HAVE IT!?! That<br />overwhelming feeling of brotherhood and companionship was quickly<br />covered by that ever daunting cloak of self doubt and fear. Thanks<br />Justin! :0)<br /><br />The phone rings and I dare not answer it. I let it go to voice mail.<br />It's Karl..."Dude, you'd better have your race legs on tomorrow, 'cause<br />if you're with me at the top of Cantelow for the second lap, you're<br />getting on my wheel and I'm protecting you the whooole way man!"<br />"Alright brutha, see you tomorrow...lets do it...Rock N Roll!" Or<br />something to that effect. The pressure cooker just jumped up about 200<br />degrees. I start hydrating immediately. So much so that I must have<br />woken up a dozen times during the night to pee. Needless to say...not a<br />very restful night. <br /><br />Race day ~ I pull into Steady Eddy's around 7:30 (late again) to Justin<br />saying, "Dude I'm glad you finally got here, everyone was driving<br />through the parking lot giving me the "Stink Eye" for saving you a<br />spot!" Get registered, get AJ reg'd, pin #'s on, get a quick warm up<br />and hit the staging area. Guess the stress must have been written all<br />over my face because everyone kept telling me to relax. Chad walks up,<br />puts his arm around me and in that calm "Uncle Chad" voice tells me,<br />"Dude, just breathe...relax and let your team do their job...it's gonna<br />be just fine!" That's something I have yet to master...the ability to<br />just relax before a race. I really never do until around 20 minutes into it.<br /><br /><br />We're off, and for me, "Class Is Now In Session!" Nice easy pace for<br />the first few miles. Then Nelson launches along 505. Lee and 2 others<br />bridge up and manage to stay off the front until about half way up<br />Cantelow. I'm on Fred's wheel for the majority of the first lap...then<br />Darin's, then Justin's, then Rod's, then Hal's, then, right before the<br />base of Cantelow I hear Chad yell, "Snovel, move up!" Just then, Karl<br />makes his move. I jump on his wheel and proceed to ride it right to the<br />front as he sets the pace up Cantelow. We're 1-2 as we crest and begin<br />to rail down the back side. Justin manages to catch back on along<br />Pleasant Vly along with about 10 others and tries to ramp it up and<br />make the break we have on the rest of the field stick, but no one seems<br />dedicated to the effort and the main field catches on. Justin stays on<br />the front and drills it down PVR. I'm toward the back at this point and<br />hear a familiar voice from my left say, "Lets go!" as Fred and Rod<br />hammer to the front and manage to string things out. As we approach the<br />turn off for Putah Creek Karl begins his mentoring. Instructing me to<br />check the mileage as we make the turn and start to pick out a few land<br />marks in prep for the finish.<br /><br />2nd lap pretty much follows suit. Then Tim launches along 505 to<br />relieve pressure. I hear Fred talking to Justin and Rod up ahead of me<br />giving them their assignments. Karl continues to tell me that we need<br />to be up towards the front as we approach the rollers right before<br />Cantelow to be able to cover any attacks. We make the left to stay on<br />Timm Rd. at Peaceful Glen, make the right hander and start to climb up<br />the roller before it drops down to Cantelow. I look up from the back of<br />the pack as the road begins to rise and see patches of bright orange and blue<br />as my teammates rise out of their saddles in unison. That strong<br />feeling of brotherhood overtakes me once again. I breathe my next<br />breath and begin to feel every cell in my body charge in preparation<br />for what's to come. I begin my self assessment and find that I'm<br />feeling GREAT! For the first time I start to believe that I can<br />actually win this. With the speed at which Karl and I floated up<br />Cantelow, I figure whoever is there this time around, will be there for<br />the end game. <br /><br />Just as we approach the feed zone, Karl and I have been able to make<br />our way to the front of the pack and sit 4th and 5th comfortably. Just<br />as we round the bend after descending the rollers Fred makes his move.<br />He drills it on the front pulling Karl and I along and lays the lumber<br />on the rest of the field. The break begins to form. He's looking super<br />strong and all of a sudden, he raises his right hand..."Flat!" Crap! As<br />Karl and I roll past he yells out, "Karl...Jason...DO IT!" Karl must<br />have felt the same thing I did as he surges and sets the pace up<br />Cantelow. About half way up, the guy from Touchstone kept trying to<br />bull me off of Karl's wheel. "Yeah right!" I continue to deny him all<br />the way up. I give him one last "nudge" letting him know that his<br />effort is futile. He finally gets the hint and offers up a whimpy<br />comment like, "Dude, you've been bumping me the whole way up the<br />climb!" and pushes my back in submission. I reply, "Well then drop the<br />F*#% back!" I reply. I hear nothing from him for the rest of the race, aside<br />from an apology afterwards...accepted. <br /><br />We crest the climb and once again are 1-2 heading down the descent.<br />Hitting 42 mph we roll onto PVR with a huge gap and 6 other riders, two<br />of which are Rio Astrada guys. The selection has been made. Karl and I<br />don't even have to pull through for the first 2 or 3 rotations, I think<br />out of respect for pulling everyone up Cantelow. Karl instructs me to<br />conserve my energy and stay on the back, but I just cant. It's just not<br />in my DNA. We hammer down PVR at about 32 mph and I begin to feel it.<br />"Careful" Karl says, making sure I don't over do it. Making the right<br />on Putah Creek we continue to paceline. Karl and I pretty much control<br />the break and offer up words of encouragement and instruction. Luckily<br />our pace slows to about 26 or so. I tell Karl to ease up as I pull<br />through and he does. I slowly begin to recover a bit and prep for the<br />sprint. <br /><br />With about 500m to go Karl looks back and tells me to sit on his wheel.<br />We round the corner at the 200m marker in 3rd and 4th. I watch the body<br />language of Karl as he begins to twitch in anticipation. I match his<br />cadence, and wait for what seems an eternity. Finally a rider launches<br />up the right side. I can almost read Karl's mind..."Not yet, wait...too<br />soon...F*#% IT!" In what looks to be a full body conniption, he<br />attacks up the left side with me 2 cm off his wheel. We're absolutely<br />on fire as we drive it toward the finish. Karl's laying down a text<br />book lead out and with about 20m to go I move left and make my way<br />around him pumping my fist as I cross the finish line for the win. Karl<br />takes second. Perfect! <br /><br />Justin ended up 9th overall taking the field sprint. 1-2-9!?! A GREAT<br />DAY FOR DBC! One after another guys from the other teams were coming up<br />to me saying that DBC totally controlled the whole race from start to<br />finish. What a display fellas...what a display. <br /><br />You guys...there isn't an adjective out there that could adequately<br />describe the heartfelt emotions that I have for this team. Seriously.<br />You guys ROCK! <br /></span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-17408145469816295072009-08-12T18:01:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:54:36.981-07:00(4/15/2008) Madera Stage Race.First off, I've got to send a shout out to Steve W.<br />
for convincing me to race with the kid instead of the<br />
"O.D's." (Old Dudes).<br />
I struggle to find the words to describe the<br />
bitter sweet feeling I had throughout the weekend. I<br />
couldn't quite put my finger on it. I was dueling with<br />
my emotions. One minute I was as happy as I'd ever<br />
been, feeling like that teenage kid back in 1988<br />
riding my motorcycle, leather jacket, hair flowing in<br />
the wind, weightless and untouchable. The next, I was<br />
as angry as my Grandpa, after having been a truck<br />
driver for the majority of his life, being told<br />
that he could no longer drive his own vehicle. I<br />
couldn't figure myself out, couldn’t make sense of it<br />
all, until it happened. It was during Sunday’s road<br />
race. In two pedal strokes and one strong, seemingly<br />
effortless move, I saw a little boy, become a young<br />
man…Damn.<span class="fullpost"></span><br />
<span class="fullpost"><a name='more'></a><br />
We pull into the Days Inn parking lot at 10:50 p.m. Friday night. Unload the gear, shower, and pass out. I<br />
get a text just as I'm waking up. It's Rod, a.k.a.<br />
"The Cuban Missile!" "You up yet?" "Yup!" I reply.<br />
"What room are you in? I'm in 114.” “I’m walking the<br />
dog.” He replies. A few minutes later my phone rings, it’s Rod again. “Dude, where you stayin’!?!” He asks with a slightly<br />
higher pitch than usual and sounding a little short of<br />
breath. “We’re at the Days Inn!” I say. He says,<br />
“Dude…I thought you were at Super 8 with us! I walked<br />
down to 114, the door was wide open so I step in and<br />
almost get my ass kicked by this big ass<br />
trucker dude…WTF!?!” I almost crap myself from laughing<br />
so hard.<br />
<br />
We arrive at the crit for our 8:50 start. <br />
Being that<br />
this is our first year of road racing, I’ve yet to<br />
upgrade our wheelsets so we don’t have a spare set for<br />
the weekend. As the season progress’s you begin to see<br />
a lot of the same faces and become familiar with their<br />
riding styles, strengths, and weakness’. So it was<br />
cool to hear Russ, a guy from another team tell his<br />
teammate to "stay on those guys’ wheel, they’ll keep it<br />
clean and in order". Russ worked with me at Bariani, both<br />
Brisbane’s and a few others that I can’t recall at<br />
this time. We’ve been able to form a solid alliance<br />
and look out for one another. Like Rod, and I’m sure<br />
all of our other Masters teammates, he’s become an<br />
“Uncle in the Peleton” to AJ and has on several<br />
occasions let me know how he’s doing or where he is<br />
when noticing me craning my neck looking for him. Russ<br />
asks if we have any spares and tells us where his are<br />
if we need them. Cool man!<br />
I’m sitting at the start line and catch myself smiling<br />
as I watch Nelson, Brian's Dad. He’s trembling with nervousness and<br />
anticipation making sure that Brian has everything he<br />
needs and letting AJ and the rest of us know that<br />
he’ll be right there if we need anything. He looks at<br />
me and I see the excitement and concern, “I got him<br />
Nelson, we’ll do just fine.” I say. “Right on Jase,<br />
good luck guys!” and we’re off. So, it’s an E5 crit,<br />
we’ve all been there, done that, so you know how it<br />
goes. You’ve got the usual, guys swerving to miss the<br />
bots dots, squirrels all over the place, so, as usual<br />
I’d offer a few kind words of advice. I decided, after<br />
hearing others say that this things won in the TT,<br />
that I was going to take it easy and just try not to<br />
over exert myself too much, but I just couldn’t stand<br />
sitting there just cruising, waiting for some dude to<br />
swerve and take my front wheel out so I jump to the<br />
front. There comes Rod and the boys right with me. We<br />
control things for the most part, then, the bell rings for<br />
the first of the primes. I just couldn’t do it. Just sit there while<br />
guys sprint off the front. It must be a primal thing,<br />
some sort of hunter/gatherer instinctual reflex to<br />
pounce. I let them go for a few seconds, then give<br />
chase. End up 2nd on both of them, but feeling none<br />
the worse and figuring those that came with me will be<br />
the ones to watch for, which proved to be true later<br />
on. Right around the 5th lap or so, I roll by the<br />
start finish and see AJ off the side being restarted.<br />
He’d punctured over the RR tracks and sure enough,<br />
there was Nelson running over to give AJ one of his<br />
spares…ride on Nelson! Way to be there. After working<br />
at the front for a while, I decide to drift toward the<br />
back and out of trouble which affords me the<br />
opportunity to watch the boys work together. They’re<br />
smooth. Taking turns like they’ve been doing it for<br />
years. I’m watching them power out of corners and<br />
gaining position working their way in and around the<br />
pack, watching the respect that they’ve earned from<br />
other riders having raced with some of these same guys<br />
in past races, when it begins to happen. I feel the<br />
blood rush from my face as the reality of what I’m<br />
witnessing slaps me right across it. The smile<br />
that was there just moments before, gone. I angrily<br />
dismiss it. I cast it away in denial and stand on my<br />
pedals, charging my way to the front.<br />
<br />
<br />
“2 laps to go!” I look up to see AJ hammering on the front,<br />
Brian on his wheel pulling all of us with him. 26…28<br />
mph…do I ride up to the front to tell him that there’s<br />
one more lap, or do I sit back and let the kid learn<br />
all on his own. I choose the latter and watch as he<br />
hits the start finish line at the front of the pack to<br />
the sound of the bell ringing. His head bows,<br />
shoulders slouch as I ride by and say, “Nice pull<br />
buddy…now lets go!” Rod takes the first pull,<br />
hammering like a man possessed. We hit the second<br />
turn, I stand on the pedals once again knowing that<br />
AJ’s right on my wheel. My back tire shoots out from<br />
under me as I round the turn and catches about a foot<br />
to the outside, I regather and lay it down. I end up<br />
coming in 6th, with Rod in 9th and AJ 10th. Not sure<br />
where Brian came in, but he was right there.<br />
<br />
Now, the TT.<br />
<br />
After lounging around for a few hours, chatting it up,<br />
cheering on the Masters as they roll by warming up, I<br />
decide to put my clip-ons…on. Now I know, I know,<br />
carbon bars and clip-ons go together like Bush and the<br />
ability to construct a proper sentence, but I play it<br />
safe and wrap my bars with some thick rubber tubing<br />
before throwing them on. “Ere’ you go…at’ll do!” I<br />
tell AJ to grab his arrow bars and set his bike up on<br />
the trainer so that I could get to work on it. A few<br />
minutes go by and I notice AJ sitting in his chair,<br />
visibly upset. I rush over to see what’s up. He’d<br />
forgotten his bars and thought that he’d miss the TT.<br />
I explained to him that that wasn’t the case and that<br />
it was no big deal. Nelson to the rescue once again!<br />
He rolls by on his warm up and I tell him that AJ's<br />
forgotten his bars, and without hesitation he makes<br />
a B-line toward his truck. He brings back<br />
a spare set that Jason B was going to be using and<br />
said just be sure to get them to JB before his TT.<br />
Beautiful! Back in business! Nelson, beers on me!<br />
<br />
AJ’s set to go off 30 seconds before me. I jokingly<br />
tell him not to get all “Butt hurt” when his old man<br />
passes him 35 seconds into his TT. “That’s NOT going<br />
to happen!” “You’re NOT passing me!” “10 seconds!” “Go<br />
get ‘em AJ!” Russ yells from a few riders back.<br />
“5-4-3-2-1….GO!” “GO-GO-GO!” I say as he thunders off.<br />
<br />
My turn. Now, for those of you who don’t already know,<br />
heat causes rubber to soften, and since I didn’t<br />
bother to get a thorough warm up, it didn’t even come<br />
to mind. “10 seconds!” “5-4-3-2-1…GO!” I release,<br />
feeling a bit like a Greyhound chasing after that<br />
little freakin’ rabbit, but more than likely resembling<br />
a Labrador lumbering through the brush.<br />
25…27…29 mph as I relax into the<br />
aero position. I give the first hard crank from the<br />
aero’s and almost crack myself right in the forehead<br />
with my bars…SHITE! The rubber was as soft as a<br />
teething ring from the heat. They were loose, but not<br />
that loose…I press on keeping my eye on AJ, who<br />
strangely appears to be getting smaller. I look to my<br />
right as I approach the first turn. There he is,<br />
looking stronger than ever not resembling my “Little<br />
Buddy” at all and about to pass his second rider. I<br />
thought for sure I’d catch him by the third turn…well,<br />
here comes the third turn…and there he goes. We come<br />
to the 2 mile marker and I begin to wonder if I’d<br />
catch him at all. Diggin’ deep now, I roll up on him<br />
with just under a mile to go. I catch myself sitting<br />
just off his left hip about 5 yards back watching<br />
him. I'm grinning from ear to ear when it begins to creep<br />
up on me again like an ominous, black rain cloud, I<br />
shake it off and power up trying to convince myself<br />
that I could out sprint it. He glances to his left as<br />
I roll up, “Damn!” I hear him say as his head drops to his forearms.<br />
“Don’t stop now Bud!” “Dig deep!” “Let’s go!” I watch<br />
over my right shoulder as he snaps himself out of it,<br />
grits his teeth, grips his aero bars and digs.<br />
Yeeaaah! I roll in at 26:39. He rolls in 5 seconds<br />
behind me with a 27:14 I think. He rides strait over<br />
to Nelson’s truck and I help J with the bars. Brian’s<br />
there, and for some reason, looks bigger than he did<br />
this morning. These kids are growing by the minute. I<br />
forget to ask him how he did though. We pack up, get<br />
back to the room where I’ve left the air on, hit the<br />
showers, slam down 2 large sub sandwiches, and crash.<br />
<br />
Now comes the RR.<br />
<br />
No need to set the alarm for this one, though I’m<br />
still up by 5:30…I haaaate that. Eat, pack up, and off<br />
to the Races. Now, for some reason, it seems I<br />
wouldn’t be able to find my own ars if it wasn’t<br />
connected to my back. I’m all turned around. After a<br />
few phone calls…we get there. Not really needing a<br />
warm up, we head on out, pass the start, turn left and<br />
contemplate climbing the hill…nnnnnNNNo thanks. I ask<br />
AJ how he’s feeling. “Pretty good, sore though!” I<br />
tell him that everyone else is probably feeling the same way<br />
and that seems to calm him a bit. I notice him riding around,<br />
taking it all in. He has this stoic look on his face and a calm<br />
demeanor about him that just says, "I belong here." That feeling<br />
comes upon me again, only this time, instead of angrily<br />
dismissing it, I let it bathe over me for just a brief moment as I sit<br />
and watch my son, almost disconnected, an outsider looking in.<br />
<br />
So we start off. No big deal, just spinning, relaxing,<br />
loosening up. Make the left hander and off we go. What I<br />
haven't bothered to tell you up to this point is that<br />
I injured myself on Saturday morning before leaving<br />
the hotel. I was up early, and hadn't had the chance<br />
to change our cleats. Both AJ and I had been riding<br />
on broken cleats and I figured now was as good a time<br />
as any to slap on our new, fancy rubber bottomed Time<br />
cleats. So, out comes the awl. An awl, for those of<br />
you who don't know is a sharp pointed tool, not much<br />
different from an ice pick. The one I have resembles an<br />
old wooden skewer. I was using it to pick out the dirt and<br />
grime from the old cleats so I could unscrew them<br />
when...ooops, I stab myself right in the left palm.<br />
Not too bad, just a tiny hole, a little blood, it<br />
hurt, mental note taken, won't do that again. Three<br />
seconds later, oops.<br />
<br />
Now, if you hold your left hand out in<br />
front of you, palm facing you, you'll notice the "J"<br />
for Jason (or Jackass) that your index finger and thumb<br />
create. You see the trough of the "J"? Thats where I<br />
stab myself so deep that I feel the awl stick into<br />
something and have to actually pull it out. Now that<br />
friggin' hurt! It's so deep that it sucks in air and<br />
gurgles the blood and air back out. DANG IT! Now, take<br />
your palm as its facing you and slowly turn it down as<br />
if you're going to grab the hoods on your bike...yup! RIGHT<br />
FRIGGIN' THERE MAN! Couldn't have aimed and hit it<br />
better. What a DUMAS' (said with a French accent) So, by the<br />
time the road race started, I couldn't hardly grab my<br />
left hood, let alone use my front break.<br />
<br />
Right from the start we jump to the front. I tell AJ<br />
to limit his pulls to no more that about 15 seconds.<br />
He takes a pull, and sure enough, about 20 seconds<br />
later he peels off. Now I'm not sure how or why, but<br />
as he starts to peel, we rub wheels, I thought I was going<br />
down for sure, I recover, barely, and feel someone hit the<br />
back of my wheel. I look back to see Russ, who was on my<br />
wheel, go down hard. Damn! We all slow<br />
up a bit, regroup and slowly make our way down the<br />
road. A few minutes later, up comes Russ's teammate<br />
happily pedaling beside us. I say, "You know, you<br />
should fall back and pull Russ back up to the group.<br />
I'll jump up front and slow it down a bit to give you<br />
guys a chance to get back on." He looks at me with a<br />
puzzled look on his face and says, "Well, I don't know<br />
if he even got back up!" Rod snaps back almost before<br />
the guy could even finish his sentence and says, "He<br />
got right back up and on his bike!" obviously as<br />
aggravated with the guy as I was. The guy got the<br />
message and back he went. We turn right onto the<br />
crappy stretch of road and the pain begins. I stay<br />
toward the back thinking that I'd be able to cruise<br />
without braking much...yeah right! These guys were all<br />
over the place. No organization at all. It felt like<br />
we were stuck in a giant slinky. Up through the feed<br />
zone and back around for he second lap. Again I jump<br />
to the front and there's Rod, right there with me<br />
taking over making sure I don't work too hard. The<br />
boys stay tucked behind us and out of trouble. We come<br />
upon the right turn and the crappy section again and<br />
this time I know better. I jump up front, kick it up<br />
to 22 mph and stay there. I'm on my tops the whole<br />
time and never have to hit the hoods or brake once.<br />
Rod yells out "Flyer" and a rider takes off up the<br />
left side. No one gives chase, so I quickly move and<br />
neutralize. Just after the crappy section, my stomach<br />
starts to cramp up a bit and my mouth is suddenly<br />
parched as we approach the rollers. I start to fall<br />
off a bit and see AJ, Rod, and Brian crank up the<br />
hill. Thank goodness for the neutral bottles. I grab<br />
one, spray myself, take a few gulps and slowly<br />
make my way up the road. I look up to see AJ cranking<br />
around the corner with the lead group. I'm about 30<br />
meters back by then. All of a sudden, I look up and<br />
there's Brian's wheel. He cranks hard and shows his<br />
potential when he unknowingly bridges me back to the<br />
main group. So there I was, in between our two<br />
Juniors, who by now are looking like grown men. And it<br />
happens. This time I buy a ticket, kick back, and<br />
watch it unfold right in front of me.<br />
<br />
On our way down<br />
to Madera, before AJ passed out, I was explaining to<br />
him that he needed to be a little more aggressive and<br />
not let riders move in and take his position so<br />
easily. Well, here comes a guy almost twice his size<br />
and he starts to move in on AJ. Things seemed to be<br />
moving in slow motion as I watch AJ in one fluid<br />
motion move from his hoods to his drops. The muscles<br />
in his forearms flex as he grips his bar, and begins<br />
to rise out of the saddle. His biceps strain, I see<br />
his lats begin to tighten through his jersey as his<br />
back arches and begins to spread like a cobra ready to<br />
strike. I notice muscles in his legs that I never even<br />
knew he had, and in one decisive, powerful move and two<br />
pedal strokes he regains position and stares the man<br />
twice his size into submission, and watches, as he fades<br />
back behind his Dad. I watch in disbelief as my little boy<br />
seemingly, in that very instant becomes a young man.<br />
<br />
<br />
Choking down the tennis ball that seemed to be stuck in<br />
my throat, and fighting back the tears, I hit the<br />
drops and make my way back to the front. Again,<br />
there's the "Cuban Missle" right there with me,<br />
protecting me. We hammer hard and manage to split the<br />
field. Our group is neutralized to allow the Masters<br />
to pass. It's too close to the finish line and causes<br />
a lot of confusion. In the end, they release us and I<br />
give it everything I've got with AJ on my wheel. I cross<br />
the line for a 3rd place finish and AJ grabs 12th. I<br />
ride up ahead without looking back so AJ can’t<br />
see me choking back the tears. I can't help thinking that more than<br />
likely by this time next year, I’ll be lucky if I get<br />
the opportunity to watch his race let alone be in it. <br />
<br />
He’s not my “little buddy” any more. <br />
<br />
I end up 5th overall in the GC with Rod grabbing 8th,<br />
AJ placing 9th, and Brian 23rd. A great weekend for<br />
DBC!<br />
<br />
<br />
It's true, what they say, “Lost time is never found<br />
again.” Take advantage of it now fellas, we’ve only got<br />
about 3, maybe 4 summers left, if we’re lucky, before<br />
they’ll be wanting to do their own thing and might not<br />
want to hang out with Dad anymore. I’ll ask any way, and try<br />
not to be disappointed when I hear his answer.<br />
<br />
It seems just last year he was up on my shoulders as<br />
we hiked up the Colombia Rock trail in Yosemite<br />
discussing life as a Kindergartner. "Da-y," he'd say<br />
because he just couldn't be bothered to pronounce the<br />
other two "D's", "I really don't like it when the girls<br />
get me into the play house and then get on top of me<br />
and don't let me up!" I pause for a moment, take a deep breath <br />
and say, "AJ, I want you to stay away<br />
from the play house son! O.K.? STAY AWAY FROM<br />
THE PLAY HOUSE!" <br />
</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4007585077986333884.post-2031594509569463102009-08-12T17:54:00.000-07:002010-07-25T11:55:09.512-07:00(3/9/2008) Berkeley TTTI always loved watching the TTT's in the Tour. It was<br />
always one of the most enjoyable stages to watch for<br />
me. The strength, the power, the speed, the whole team<br />
moving as one, in perfect unison, floating inches from<br />
each other, a sneeze away from disaster. Beautiful.<br />
Now, after having competed with 3 of my fellow<br />
compadres in my first ever...there's no feeling like<br />
it man! <span class="fullpost">Alarm went off at 4:45. I jump out of bed to turn it<br />
off so fast I don't even think I gave it a chance to<br />
reach it's full "I want to rip it out of the wall and<br />
pound it with a sledge hammer" potential. So amped<br />
about the event was I that before I know it, I'm out<br />
of the shower and in the garage for the last once over<br />
on the bike.</span><br />
<span class="fullpost"></span><br />
<span class="fullpost"><a name='more'></a><br />
Fast forward to 15 min. to our 8:19 start. "Go ahead,<br />
I'm right behind you," I tell Darin, Rod and Mark.<br />
Throw on the helmet, grab the gloves, one last swig,<br />
and head out. About a mile from the parking lot I pass<br />
a rider heading the other way cussing and trying to<br />
click in...I ask if he's ok, he hollers something<br />
about my teammates, "Cool, thanks man!" I reply,<br />
thinking he was telling me that they're just ahead of<br />
me. Rounding the next turn I come upon the guys<br />
helping Mark dust off and checking his bike out. I<br />
look to Mark, who's by that time full into the ever<br />
dreadful "Ouwee Dance." "WTF!?!" I ask. His jersey's<br />
ripped, his elbow's bloody and we haven't even make it<br />
to the flippin' start line. Turns out the guy had just<br />
collided with Mark. I didn't see the accident but from<br />
what I was told, the guy was flying, tucked with his<br />
head down, and without warning, ran right smack into<br />
the back of Mark who was pulling off the road to check<br />
his bike. Mark took the brunt of the "attack" in the<br />
"left rear quadrant"...arrow bars! OUCH! El Toro<br />
strikes. It would be unanimously voted later that<br />
Mark's new nickname is "The Matador!"<br />
Mark felt pretty bad about it even though he wasn't<br />
the one at fault. I guess the other rider fared much<br />
worse and was screaming at Mark. Maybe it was a good<br />
thing I wasn't there. Give the once over on the bike,<br />
everything seems strait, without a word, Mark jumps on<br />
and leads the way to the start line.<br />
"10 seconds!" "5-4-3-2-1-GO!" and we're off. I take<br />
the first pull. Perfect weather, great warm up,<br />
feeling good as we serpentine our way down the course.<br />
Working surprisingly well as a group for not having<br />
ever ridden together, staying tight, taking turns,<br />
beautiful. We fly into the first right hand turn. A<br />
truck burns passed us, the flagger waves him through,<br />
he stops, the flagger then tries to stop him, he<br />
lurches, we slam on the brakes. SH*T! I let out an<br />
expletive, Darin reels my emotions back in, and we<br />
press on. First big climb, we settle into a silent<br />
rhythm. I'm just starting to hum Promontory from the<br />
last of the Mohican's (it just works for me) as we<br />
level out, regain speed and hit the next climb.<br />
Pushing my 25 I say, "Thats all, no more gears!" Just<br />
then, Darin drops his chain. We slow, not sure whether<br />
to continue or wait. Looking back, hearing the seconds<br />
tick off, seeing Darin struggle, we look at each other<br />
and just as we start to head back, Darin gritting his<br />
teeth yells, "Go ahead guys, GO!" I can't imagine how<br />
tough that must have been for him. Feeling like hounds<br />
on a leash...we release.<br />
Over the hills and through the woods, we reel in team<br />
in front of us...we surge. The final stretch, laying<br />
it all out diggin' deep, done.<br />
High fives, back slappin', a few minutes later, Darin<br />
rolls in grinning from ear to ear like the rest of us.<br />
He hammered out the rest of the race solo just in case<br />
one of us had a mechanical. Way to go Darin. I think<br />
the "Toughest rider" award will have to be shared by<br />
both Darin and The Matador, who HTFU'd and pulled his<br />
share through the pain. You both rocked! And Rod, you<br />
hammered brutha! <br />
The best part, throwing back a few with Rod, Darin,<br />
Dawn and the Matador over a perfect Chicago style<br />
pizza pie and Zachary's, exchanging stories and<br />
complimenting each other, laughing so hard that my abs<br />
cramped up. I tell ya, every time I race with this<br />
team, I come away saying, "What a great group of guys<br />
man!" Any time, any place...I'm in.<br />
Dawn was the perfect TTT sherpa, helping with all of<br />
our #'s and just being there. She was also able to<br />
snap a few shots of all of the other DBCers out there,<br />
as well as a few great shots of Levi, who started<br />
about 20 min. after us and was still unable to reel us<br />
in! :0) As soon as I can, I'll upload them onto the<br />
web site. I'll let you know when I do.<br />
Not sure what our time was, i think it was<br />
"Officially" around 49 and some change. 17th out of 24<br />
I think. I think there were around 16 pro teams out<br />
there though. :0)</span>JJSnovelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07178730464254677069noreply@blogger.com0