Signals, Calls, and Marches

Traveling to Reno

2012-02-10T06:28:00.000-08:00

So I haven't written on this blog in months. It's not for lack of action over here -- in fact, I've probably gone through one of the biggest life changes I have ever faced. Yes, I'm living in Reno, Nevada. The short version: I got an awesome job that moved me out this way. Yes, Allison is still in Chicago, but we've got solutions in the works to have us living back under one roof soonish. Yes, it's been exceptionally difficult and trying, but I think so far it's been worth it.

The long version is below.

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So I took a job in Reno, Nevada as a strategic communications writer at the university here. I applied to the position the day it was posted in October and was not all that surprised when I got a hit on my website from Reno a few days later. It happens often when I apply to jobs -- a hit out of the ether to my portfolio. I wasn't even all that surprised when I was scheduled for a phone interview. The interview went well, apparently, because I was then flown out to Reno to interview for the position in front of about ten folks, all of whom were potential colleagues. From 7:30 am to 3:00 pm, I talked myself up in front of a bunch of complete strangers and made such an impression that I was offered the job and would be relocated. Now that was surprising -- Reno?

Of course, Reno is pretty far from Chicago. 2,000 miles far. Really far. So that would be tough. Also making things complicated was the fact that I was recently wedded to the lovely Allison Grant. Because of circumstances surrounding her work and the current lack of opportunities for artistic and curatorial types in Reno, we determined that if I took the job she wouldn't be able to join me out there for some time. Further complicating things was that the job was a contract position up for renewal in July.

For about five days we talked the opportunity over and I decided that when you're offered the chance to be paid to travel out west to do the work that you've wanted to do, you would be hard pressed to turn that down.

So I made one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make and accepted the position. Certainly, there was and is a lot at stake, but I felt that if I turned the job down, I would forever harbor some sort of bitterness. And it's only a job -- temporary. I could be back in the Midwest by the summer if the position doesn't renew or if I don't find the right opportunities out west for Allison that would allow her to come out here and do something in her field. Our priority is us, but we also allow the flexibility once in a while to do something completely selfish -- maybe that's how good relationships work. All I know is that Allison gets first rights on most anything for some time to come. I'm confident that everything will work out fine. Maybe I'm a dreamer or an idealist.

On Thanksgiving weekend, still recovering from the nasty chest cold I picked up sometime during my travels out west, I rented a truck and loaded up many of my things from Cincinnati and Chicago. On Wednesday, I picked up Allison in the afternoon after she got off work and we started the drive toward Des Moines on I-80.

Our travel schedule was such:

Wednesday 11/30: Chicago to Des Moines, IA - 350 miles
Thursday 12/1: Des Moines to Laramie, WY - 650 miles
Friday 12/2: Laramie, WY to Elko, NV - 650 miles
Saturday 12/3: Elko, NV to Reno, NV - 250 miles

Our trip to Des Moines was mostly inconsequential. We ate dinner at Chipotle somewhere in the Quad Cities (and was laughed at the name of the town we came in on -- Colona). We stayed at a Comfort Inn in the Des Moines suburbs so we didn't even get to see the town.

The day I was most worried about was the haul from Des Moines to Laramie. I've heard horror stories from other folks who made the drive cross-country who said that stretch was nothing but desolation and nothing. And they were right. However, the worst part about that leg of the drive was that our truck, a strapping Budget 16' unit, was blown about by a strong wind from the NW that forced us to use a heavy foot on the gas pedal to maintain a reasonable 65 MPH and fight hard to keep it in lane. The truck just guzzled fuel at a sickening rate -- about 8-10 MPG. My sincere apologies to all those poor dinosaur skeletons we burned so that I could move out west.

Laramie was awesome -- what a great place. We had dinner at Sweet Melissa's, a vegetarian joint, and with the elevation, one beer apiece had us nearly knocked out. It was cold in Laramie -- the nighttime low was about -5 Fahrenheit. The next morning, we got up early and I took a phone interview with another job that I had applied to at around the same time as I applied to the Reno position -- when it rains it pours, I guess. I ended up turning that other position down pretty quickly because it wasn't a good opportunity...and because I was already on my way out west. On our way out of Laramie, Allison and I sang David Bowie songs to each other in the snowed-over square and I spit on a statue to see my spittle freeze in seconds. Outside town, the world's most desolate Conoco afforded good postcard buying opportunities.

Through Wyoming there isn't much. Well, along the I-80 corridor, mostly. The good stuff must lie to the north or off the expressway, because all we saw were Kum-'n'-Go gas stations and occasional ranch hands. And even the ranch hands seemed bored. We had hopes to stop in Salt Lake City for a good meal on the generous per diem dime, but the Whole Foods in Park City seemed more convenient, so that's where we went.

Across the Great Salt Lake we battled mushy, slick conditions from a transient snowstorm perched over the vicinity. As soon as we crossed over into the desert, the storm stopped but we couldn't see the desert because it was at this point completely dark. When we crossed over into Nevada, there was a brilliant glow from the casinos on the state line. Yes, we crossed that line from the land of Joseph Smith to the territory of sin. It was all just dark outside anyway.

That night we stopped in Elko and we listened to our neighbor complain to his friends that they didn't care that he'd won $1,500 over the course of a week gambling. "Guys, I've won $1,500 and you don't even care! Some friends are you!" The next morning, we filled up the truck (again) and got going. Nevada's scenery is much more attractive than Wyoming's - big mountains loll in the distance, scrubland that textures the ground, and all is lovely purples and umbers in the early daylight. Our trip to Reno was detoured by an excursion to Pyramid Lake. Allison was disappointed that we had chosen the wrong road to get us close to the Pyramid, but we were able to admire it from afar using the binoculars, generously provided by the taxpayers of Nevada.

The move-in itself was unexceptional, though I was a bit put off when the maintenance man who let me in also informed me that the people who lived in my house before were, let's just say, really big into partying.

Since then, Reno has treated me exceptionally well. A further update to follow soon.

Major Decisions

2011-11-22T14:20:00.001-08:00

Bartlett

2011-10-25T12:33:00.000-07:00

The fun in cyclocross lies not with the racing, but in the party afterward. Bartlett brought the good times again. I had an awesome crash (pulled a superman due to a stick in the front wheel) and had a lousy result. It's cool, because I made up for the mediocrity with screaming until my voice was hoarse at all the Cat. 4s.

Hollerin', literally.

2011-10-18T13:48:00.000-07:00

I'm really upset by the disappearance of heirloom tomatoes from the local markets. It's the time of year to quit eating tomatoes and start enjoying squash. Speaking of squash, we have about four butternuts that are dying to be roasted. Maybe that's the plan for tonight.

Establishing Equilibrium

2011-10-06T08:27:00.000-07:00

The events of the past couple months have completely upended the daily rhythm and routine of my life. I'm a creature of habit. I give over my weekends and some evenings to the variability of life, but I like following an established routine most of the time. I'm sure I'm not alone. I love adventure, but please, only before 10 p.m., because I'm tired and want to get seven hours of sleep.

Clearly, a wedding will throw all that into upheaval. But that's over. I managed to get some good riding in during the week before the wedding, usually in the form of a quick cruise to the Schoolhouse from my dad's. That 50-75 minutes a day by myself was the deciding factor in my retention of sanity during the whole process.

The wedding itself was a blast -- so many dear friends and family members made the long haul to Cincinnati to celebrate. We have the photos, but we've been slow in getting them online. Small moments: Russ brought a stack of Gustav Chumpsky Roman stickers and "made it rain"; dancing to Nick Cave's "The Ship Song"; Hudy Delight.

We made our way to Hocking Hills and hiked and wandered for two days. We also visited my maternal grandparents and ate dinner at Casa Nueva. Tuesday morning, I sneaked away for an hour all before Allison woke up. Because Allison had to teach Wednesday morning, we left for Chicago after breakfast, but visited my brother Ian in Columbus on the way.

Wednesday afternoon we drove up to the UP. My aunt and uncle live up there in the small town of Menominee. It's not a far drive -- but one I haven't made since I was a kid. Allison and I stopped in Green Bay for the night and explored the town, which has an amazing farmer's market and an excellent brewpub. I ran on the trail along the river and did pushups in an office park.

The next morning, we got moseying further up north. We stopped in Marinnette, WI for lunch at Blue Bike Burrito and then spent some time wandering through the harbor of Menominee, taking photos of ourselves amidst the boats and walls. That night, we met up with my family and spent some good time talking at a local and rather-fancy Italian joint.

The next morning, we took the powerboat across the bay to Fish Creek with our bikes to explore Peninsula State Park. We all spent the day out there cruising about and eating and only boated back as the sun was starting to set.

Where Friday was warm and sunny, Saturday was cool and rainy. But no matter, as we were heading back to Chicago anyway. I went for a modest run to the lighthouse on the bay in the rain and came back to a feast of eggs. The drive back, we stopped at a Culver's outside Milwaukee for lunch. When we got to Kenosha to fill up, Allison realized she'd left her purse behind at the restaurant, so then began a frantic drive to retrieve the purse. All was safe and sound, luckily.

Since then, it's been an establishment of routine, but I'm just tired all the time. I raced at Hopkins Park and finished somewhere in the top third of the 30+ race and somewhere in the bottom half of the singlespeed. I'm alright with that.

Dreaming

2011-08-30T08:20:00.000-07:00

Last night I had the best dream. I dreamt that I gained the power to travel back in time, but only to August 1990. So what did I do with my wonderful power? I traveled back in time to a bike shop and bought them out of Oakley sunglasses like Razorblades, Frogskins, etc. and stashed them in a time capsule in the woods to unearth in the present day. I guess in my dreamworld, good sunglasses were extremely hard to come by and it took a hero to travel back in time to bring neon-colored Oakleys into the future.

They say that dreaming is a way for the mind to ruminate on things and make tough decisions. I think this dream is telling me that I need to buy some sunglasses.

RI

2011-08-25T13:19:00.000-07:00

First, some bike talk because I guess I should:

We went and "raced" in the underground-style and I didn't do as bad as I thought. Based on all the metrics available, I'm pretty much just as fast (read: slow) as last year.

At least now I care about racing a bit. My interest was waning pretty badly this year -- we'll see if the attention span can hold through to January. And I haven't re-upped my USAC license yet.

Now, the more interesting stuff. Allison and I recently flew to Providence, RI to celebrate the wedding of our friends Curtis Mann and Brooke Berger. We flew in to P-Town, or however they abbreviate it, on a Friday morning. Wake-up call was at 4:15 for our 8 a.m. flight. I had no problem of it; Allison grumbled until about mid-afternoon. We got in, found the place we were staying at, which we'd booked via AirBNB (and had an A+ experience), and got to walking around to shake off the jet legs.

We went and lunched at Eastside Pockets, which I remembered so fondly from my earlier trips to Providence to visit my brother Eric. We then went down the hill to Symposium Books and a few other shops and spent way too much money. We lounged for a while on the riverfront, kicking it in the sun. Then got an OK dinner at a Belgian-style restaurant with a terrible beer list. I wanted Ben & Jerry's for dessert, but we nixed that in favor of retaining our waistlines. Walked about 8-9 miles, so we could probably have had a scoop or three.

Saturday, we woke up early and got on down to Newport, RI. Our parents and it seemed everyone else told us that Newport was the place to be. The Cliffwalk! Clams! So, we hustled down there, all in a froth about the chance to look at Great Gatsbyian mansions and eat fried clams. OK, so the town is alright. We got there pretty early and found ourselves in the tourist-trap part of town. Boring and full of bad shops like Subway. So we went up and over the hill and visited a few yardsales and hung out with some locals -- that was fun. I passed up the chance to buy a RC airplane, like an idiot. We then walked over to the Cliffwalk and it was pleasant -- I guess it would be fun to run on it.

Lunch, we took the recommendation of one of the yardsale folks and went to Flo's, where I had a clam roll and Coke. Allison had a plateful of calamari that wasn't nearly as good as my selection. Afterward, we wandered around a bit and then got back to the car to head to our hotel to relax before the wedding. The wedding was in Bristol, RI, which we took a bus to like children.

The wedding itself was perfect. Perfect weather, great food, awesome music, and in a fantastic setting at Mt. Hope Farm. It was a treat, but it was scary seeing how well Curt and Brooke's wedding went off. Afterward, we went over to a rented house and hung out with the couple and I sloshed around in the bay capturing crabs and mussels.

Sunday, we were promised surfing so Allison and I started driving down the RI coast and explored the back roads. Saw lots of cyclists out and about, which depressed me, because I was not riding, I was driving. Found and explored a bit by a grist mill and got a snack at a little bakery. Surfing was canceled at the last minute, so we went on ahead to a BBQ at Brooke's parents' house and ate like pigs. Sunday night, it was Cuban Revolution and softserve. Walked another 6-7 miles in the Providence dark.

Monday, it was rainy and our flights home were delayed. Missed our connection, but I drank a huge smoothie at the Baltimore airport to cure the ache. That was nice.

Crit Season

2011-07-31T14:54:00.001-07:00

The Ten Speed Hero website is along and trucking. Here is a recent brief: "Crit Season." There are some interviews and profiles in the pipeline, so check it out in the coming weeks.

2011-06-10T08:11:00.000-07:00

Normally I like going home to Cincinnati -- I get to get great riding in and see good friends. However, this weekend the agenda is all about working out details for the upcoming wedding. Everything stinks.

Ian Came to Visit

2011-06-06T12:50:00.000-07:00

Last week my brother Ian and his girlfriend Elvira came up to Chicago to visit. Friday was the start of "summer hours" so I had a few hours to kill before they arrived -- time I killed with a nap and time in the coffeeshop around the corner reading the Omnibus of Cometbus. One of the stories I read was about Cometbus' time in Arcata, CA. The article included a map of town, which showed where all the good skating spots and record stores were, circa 1988. Because I'm curious, I Google Mapped the town and tried pinpointing the places he mentioned -- I found a few. I do this often when I'm reading a book or newspaper article -- if a story mentions something about a water tower on the horizon, I want to see the water tower for myself. It has no bearing on my understanding of the story, but maybe I do this for context's sake.

This post isn't about water towers and Arcata, though, so my apologies.

After Ian and Elvira arrived, we walked over to Andersonville for a drink at Hopleaf and stopped by Transistor. I bought a guitar USB adapter after wanting one for well over six years. Friday night was also the launch for the Ten Speed Hero website. I dropped Ian and Elvira off at the house of her friend Ducky's and went to pick up Allison before heading over to the Get-A-Grip fit studio in the Fulton Market area. The 10SH website, a long time in the making, features content about cycling, with an emphasis on photography and long essays. It's going to be exciting to see what happens with it. The launch party went exceedingly well -- a keg of Gossamer helped things along. Ian, Elvira and her friends stopped on by, too. I'm not sure they were too interested in $12,000 Parlee bikes, but they acted like they did, which I appreciated.

Saturday, it was off to a mellow start with calisthenics in the park while Ian and Allison were sleeping. After they got up, I prepared everyone smoothies and we went off walking to Andersonville and then to Lincoln Square. We lunched in the Gene's rooftop beer garden and I predicted that Allison and I would make a regular go of it. So far, we've been there twice in the past week, it's that great.

In the afternoon, we wandered back to the house and took naps, then met up with Elvira and her friends in the afternoon at Hamburger Mary's. They didn't stick around for long, so they left and we got burritos at Carmela's.

Sunday, I raced the Gravel Metric in DeKalb in biblical conditions. I came in 7th place out of 120-something, with many participants dropping out of the race due to the severe thunderstorm that decided to roll through as we were racing. I'm working on a post for 10SH on the race, so when that's done I'll link it to here. Afterward, I was treated to a BBQ at Ducky's place. Then I got sick.

Since then, I was pretty much wiped out from a horrible cold that I caught from Ian and fatigue from the Gravel Metric. I recovered in time to help Allison celebrate her 30th on June 1 in style at the Brauhaus in Lincoln Square with her parents as surprise guests. Al James, renowned magician wowed us with feats of illusion. Friday night was karaoke with a whole host of friends at Spyner's. I also rode a lot; a HP trip with Kevin Clark and Catano on Saturday and MTB action on Sunday.

Why I Ride

2011-05-19T11:48:00.000-07:00

Lucho at CI said it best here.

I ride so I can eat what I want within reason, make new friends, and explore and adventure.

Competition is part of that triad, but right now, it's been more of a frustration and barrier to fulfillment than a catalyst. Ask me if I'd rather drive 150 miles and spend $100 to race or ride out my door for 60 miles with my friends, with a muffin break, and I'll gladly choose the latter.

Late April Ohio

2011-04-28T08:42:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to Ohio for a few days. On the agenda was the following:

1. Fix the Saab
A) Oil sump cleaning and oil change
B) Replace the antenna I broke when I opened the hatch while the radio was on.
C) PCV system update

All the work was split on Thursday or Saturday. A week later, and I still have grease under my fingernails. I was so knocked out by the work on Saturday (took me four hours of work to get the pan off, cleaned and back on) that I probably burned the same amount of energy as if I had gone on some crazy long Judson ride.

2. Visit my maternal grandparents

On Friday, my mom, Jim, and I drove to spend the day with my grandparents in Barlow. They haven't been doing so well, so any time I'm in Ohio, I try my best to get out and visit with them for the day. On the way up, we stopped at the Village Bakery in Athens, which sadly I never patronized while living in Athens. Totally hippie-dippie and very much my style. They had absolutely some of the best brown bread I've ever had the pleasure of eating. Despite the rain, we got my grandfather to leave the farm and take a look at Linda and Ted's new house in Fleming.

3. Ride

I went and rode with the Team Hungry guys on Thursday, which absolutely just kicked my ass. It was a good ride through the hills of Kentucky that was made especially painful because Scott and Mike Chewning, who are pretty much Cat. 2s, were pushing the pace. I fell apart near the end -- rare that that happens. The weather was beautiful, sunny with some good wind from the east. After riding, we all rode over to forkheartknife for a feast and a few beers. I got home about 11:30, exhausted and with a still-full belly. The best kind of ride.

On Saturday I did an hour of hill repeats in the pouring rain around Mt. Storm. Because of the weather Sunday (lousy) and because I was so tired from working on the car Saturday afternoon, I went for a mild cruise around Northside. A short, lazy ride and I was back in 45 minutes. That's all I wanted and needed.

4. Plan some wedding action

Allison and I are going to get hitched this fall. On Sunday we had a brunch at my dad's to plan things out with Allison's folks, my dad and stepmom, and my mom. I'm really nervous about any difficulties between my mom and dad, but hey, that's how it goes sometimes.

5. Passover

The best of the Jewish holidays. We ate, drank grape juice, and laughed all night. Afterward, we went to see James Leg at the Northside Tavern. They were great, as always. I do miss the Black Diamond Heavies, though.

California

2011-04-11T14:11:00.001-07:00

[Links coming soonish -- probably Thursday night.]

If there's one thing that's golden it's California.

The winter of 2010/2011 has been exceptionally brutal to this soul. The chill arrived December 1 and the snow followed soon thereafter. The last weeks of autumn were hardly bittersweet; rather, bitter. I hate griping about the weather because it's such a default complaint for those who live in Chicago, but wow, this winter proved to be a real tough ride of a season.

About mid-January, I started in with despondent complaints to friends and family about how much I hated Chicago, its weather, its residents, the traffic, the stinky train, etc. About then we decided to make a trip out west to California to visit Naz and Jen and get away. We booked a trip for the last week of March, only because it would take us that long to save up enough bread to have fun.

At the risk of boring myself and the few visitors that still read my blog, I'll get on to the good stuff.

Wednesday, March 23:

Allison and I endured a delayed flight out of Midway, but we entertained each other by dreaming up wacky stories about our fellow passengers. "Hi! My name is Leonard Leonard-Leonard! I'm a salesman out of Dubuque and I'm just looking to sell you a handsome pair of thrice-pleated pants!"

After landing in SF, we made our way to the hotel in Soma and immediately went out exploring the hood. We tried to visit some Mexican restaurant on 14th and Folsom, but they were closed. We instead dined at Citizen's Band at 8th and Folsom, which was an incredibly good choice on our part. We shared vegetarian cassoulet, mac & cheese with ham, cooked greens, and eggs. Everything was very rich, but the portions were not so large that you felt bloated after. After dinner, we met up with Naz and Jen who had just arrived home from Hawaii and we made plans for Thursday.

Sleep was fitful.

Thursday, March 24:

It was slated to rain all day, so Allison and decided that we'd be better off spending the day doing indoor things. First, Naz, Jen, Allison and I took the MUNI to Brenda's to get brunch -- the bus was late and the rain was a near torrent. I was completely soaked, but I didn't care because I can deal. Brenda's is a small N'awlins restaurant with watermelon ice tea and OK coffee. I took Naz's advice and ordered a shrimp omelet, Allison had a tofu sandwich because everything else on the menu had eggs, Naz got fried chicken (amazing), and Jen, oatmeal pancakes. I got to taste all the food and was pleased that Naz gave me an exceptionally nice-sized chunk of fried chicken.

We then went on to SFMOMA and spent most of the day there. The exhibits were exceptionally good -- mostly photographs. Allison and I didn't gel with the exhibit about wine and the culture surrounding that beverage, but it was still interesting.

Naz and Jen had us over their house for fish and sauteed vegetables, which I washed down with 21st Amendment Black IPA.

Friday:

This was the day of gluttony. I prepared by going for a 3.75 mile run to the Bay to watch the sun rise. I couldn't sleep and I was feeling plump, so I sneaked out at 6:30 a.m. before the city woke. I haven't run in months, not since at least December. I'm also in really good cycling shape, so my cardio system can go but my running legs can't really keep up. Anyway, I ran pretty well and rocked some hills. I kinda forget how great running is -- I mean cycling's better, but running is pretty rad in doses under five miles. Any more than that and it's not much fun.

I came back, woke up Allison, and met up with Naz to get breakfast at Pinkie's Bakery. Naz and I both got spinach quiche; Allison bread and butter because again, everything else had eggs in it. Naz and I also split an oatmeal and cranberry cookie.

We then started walking. First stop, Jen's office in Chinatown. Then on down the hill toward the piers, where we ate In-And-Out (burger and fries, both animal style). Along the way I tried on a pair of $275 jeans that fit exceptionally well and sang songs about riding bikes at Palos (a theme during the week).

We then moseyed up toward Lombard and hung out with the other tourists, taking pictures of us standing in the middle of the second most-curviest street in the city. See this video to see the curviest street. We also checked out some awesome skateboarding and art stores. Allison bought some expensive clothes

Continuing on toward the consumption of calories, we shared an apple fritter from Bob's Donuts before going back to the hotel. After a short respite, we went back out again for Little Star pizza in the Mission. We got a regular thick pie with sausage and onions and a white pizza with lots of garlic. Oh, and a roasted garlic appetizer. Also, Ska Brewing IPA.

Then on to Bi-Rite for ice cream -- roasted banana and malted vanilla for me.

I think the total caloric consumption for the day was about 4,000ish, which was entirely negated by the fact we traversed all of SF by foot [http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4392225 ]. The meals we ate we rather small, despite being rather rich. Hey, it all balanced out. I came home from the trip lighter.

Per usual, we crashed by about 11 or so. The day's activities again giving a good knackering.

Saturday:

Allison and I woke up early and got walking down toward the ferry building farmers' market, giving Jen and Naz time to sleep in. Along the way, Allison dragged me into the Market Street Mall where she wanted to look for some perfume. I did not enjoy the experience. At the market, we bought a loaf of fig bread, which as a lover of figs, I found pretty much incredible. Allison doesn't like figs so much, so she was less enthralled with the loaf. Naz met us down at the market and made us stand in line to buy a pork sandwich from Roli Roti. Greasy, flavorful, and filling -- pretty much one of the best sandwiches I've ever had.

In the afternoon, we worked off the Roli Roti with a ride to Heron's Head to meet Corey and Judah. Sunshine and light breeze on the way out; a quick downpour on the point; sunshine and light breezes on the way back. SF's weather is a strange animal and I love it.

Dinner was Indian/Pakistani, aloo mater with some mano lassi for me.

Sunday:

It was an early morning ride to Golden Gate Park with Naz and Allison in preparation for a burrito feast in celebration of Judah's daughter's and Naz's birthday. I ate a burrito, half a quesadilla, a taco, and drank a coke. It was gluttonous and marvelous.

In the afternoon, I met with former HAC teammate and friend Adrian Silva, who moved to SF in the fall of 2010. Talking with him over a couple of beers at Brainwash, it was clear that the SF life was a dream and worth the financial struggle. He told me about the bike tours he's been on, the culture of the city, all of it. He wasn't making much, but it was enough to live the dream. It was inspiring.

Monday:

Allison and I drove up Highway 101 to Rohnert Park to visit my uncle Bruce and aunt Cheryl. In a rented Honda Civic (my, how Honda has slipped), we made the 40-mile drive in the early morning to Wine Country. Bruce recently had a partial hip replacement because the damage of numerous motorcycle crashes and falls over the years had finally caused the joint to give up. When Allison and I planned our trip to California, we knew it would be tenuous whether we would be able to see Bruce and Cheryl, but Sunday afternoon he urged us to come up and visit, saying, "I've been stuck in the house for weeks recuperating. Get me outta here!"

So we did and it was so well worth it.

Allison and I got to their house by about 9:30 and had coffee and muffins before heading up to Dry Creek, where their winery [http://pechmerlewinery.wordpress.com/] is located. Uncle Bruce wasn't moving too well, but he was determined to get out and show us around. Before leaving, Cheryl packed up a picnic basket with fried chicken, cheese, chocolates, fruit, etc. for us to enjoy after leaving the winery.

We got up to the winery in short order due to the utter negligence of posted speed limits. The tasting was pretty great -- the winemaker John Pepe gave us a tour of a number of vintages, some ready to be bottled, others in need of time. We were given three bottles to take along: a cabernet, a sauvignon blanc, and a chardonnay. Outside were some extremely cool Lamborghini tractors, which were slowly giving in to time and ferrous oxide.

We then drove over to the actual Pech Merle facility, which is still just a narrow tract of land that will eventually receive a tasting room, production line, and storage area. Also, the land is home to a 250+ year-old oak that is one of the more magnificent things I've ever seen.

We parted ways after taking a tour of the land, heading down the 101 for a bit before branching off to drive down the Russian River. During my last trip to California, Bruce and I took his Porsche 911 convertible, which is among the last of the air-cooled generation, for a spirited
drive through the narrow, curvy roads snaking through the redwood forests. It was an incredible adventure and I was determined to give it a go with the Honda. Heading toward Occidental on the Bohemian Highway, the curves started giving Allison the heaves, and I, being unsympathetic to those with sicky stomachs, pressed on, trying to hit each apex nicely. She then accused me of being mean because of my hustling of the car, so I passed on the wheel to her. Her breaking moment was when I nearly hit a UPS truck head-on on a blind corner, or so she says (I maintain that there was a good 3-4 inches between us.)

By now it was 3 p.m. and we were starving, since all we'd eaten that day were a few muffins and some wine. Coming down Coleman Valley Road, we pulled off at a good spot, unpacked the food. After eating the fried chicken, some ripe pears, and gouda, I finally got around to proposing to the girl. The most awkward, yet great, experience ever; fantastic and horrible. We took some photos of ourselves cavorting about the field and then got driving back to the city. About time, huh? It only took me 6 3/4 years.

Driving down Highway 1 was one of the more memorable experiences of the trip. Tracing the edge of the coast, the highway would swoop up and down with the elevation, affording stunning views of small-town coastal California. Cyclists abounded and with each rider we passed, I sighed with an envious heart. I tried to check out Black Mountain Cycles, but they were closed. I've been following their blog for some time now and I love all that they do -- lots of steel classics and modern bikes framed within that classical steel tradition.

Dinner that night was at B-Star in the Inner Richmond, which was an amazing meal. We celebrated Naz's birthday in style -- well, Naz and Jen were styling. Allison and I looked like hoodlums, matching in black hoodies and worn blue jeans. After dinner, we wandered over to Green Apple books and I bought a copy of the "Kindly Ones" for $3. Dessert was a crepe at Genki's. Much like 2009's experience, I was completely and sickeningly stuffed afterward.

After walking around a bit to stretch the legs and help the food digest, we drove back to the 'hood, packed some of our stuff, and went to bed.

Tuesday:

Coffee at Sightglass, a short walk around the neighborhood, and a long day of travel. I had a great seatmate on the flight from San Diego (the layover spot) to Chicago. The Orange Line ride home sucked. Also, I made the mistake of not taking a day off after travel -- I felt miserable at 6 a.m. Wednesday morning, when I woke to return to the office.

Wolf Lake

2011-03-15T14:31:00.000-07:00

Allison and I spent Sunday exploring Wolf Lake. We had plans for some time to go use-up a gift certificate at 3 Floyds, so we decided to just take a day to drive down and go exploring to work up an appetite. We were going to go hiking at Palos, but driving cross-county seemed somewhat pointless. So Wolf Lake it was. I'd only been there once -- with Kevin Clark on a lazy 60-mile ride on a sunny day. Well, if 60-mile rides can be called "lazy" endeavors.

I was itching to get back, if only to spend some time in a fresh location.

(Click to embiggen)

We posed by memorials to Project Nike.

And had our way stymied by a cut-out in the causeway.

It was a brisk, chilly day -- perfect for March. Gloomy in all the right ways, but not so bad that you wouldn't want to leave the house.

Spring is the Time for Whining

2011-03-03T14:14:00.000-08:00

Everything's changing, but nothing's changed. This winter put in a real digger on me as it was just cold out, all the time. I fancy myself as some kind of real tough nugget so I'm pretty tolerant of bad weather. I love the rain, I love wind, and I love rainy, windy days. I hate the snow, though. I'll gladly ride or walk around in gale force winds and a deluge, but if there's snow on the ground, I just want to sit inside and mope.

There was a lot of moping this winter. I've been a big baby about riding outside, ever since I almost ended up taking a dunk in Lake Michigan on a 10 degree day last year.

So there's that.

Things are starting to turn, though. The calendar finally pushed on toward the third month and with that, I think I can hear birds chirping in the morning and when I leave work, I can catch the sun as it's setting.

I've been too busy to enjoy all that, or nearly so. Finishing up the last edits on my graduate thesis will do that. I successfully defended my body of research back at the beginning of February and I'm on the home stretch. Most nights the past month I've come home after sitting in front of a computer all day to sit in front of my aging G5 for an hour or two as I reconcile my advisors' marks with the mess I've spent the past two-plus years bashing out. I can't wait to put that thing to bed.

Allison and I are going to San Francisco March 23 through the 29. We're staying across the street from Naz and Jen's pad. It'll be a good trip -- we're going to eat like pigs and enjoy decent weather. Even if it's rainy the entire time, it'll likely be better than what's going on in the Midwest.

Other notes:

I'm riding better now than I ever have before but I don't care much about racing. The economics of racing is ridiculous. Even for the cheap races, it's still at least a $60 day with registration fees, food, gas, etc. Lately I've been all about going on hard three hours muffin rides with my friends. I may change my mind by the time CX rolls around -- probably will. Still, I have better things to spend my money on than racing.

Someday I'll move this over to Wordpress. Someday.

Winter 2011

2011-01-19T12:50:00.000-08:00

Sean and I were talking about winter riding and commuting. Seems that we've not been doing a whole lot of it due to weather and laziness. I'm pretty reluctant to ride outside when the air temperature is less than 22 degrees or so -- my feet and hands really suffer to the point that riding is just thoroughly unpleasant. So instead I've been riding the trainer. A lot. I'm now to the point that I like riding the trainer. That's not supposed to happen, right?

Jividen and I rode up to Tower on Saturday for the "team" ride. It was just the two of us. Tempo/LT all the way -- we were at a conversational pace for a few minutes, I think. I was working hard, but it may have had something to do with the CX tire on the rear of the bike. I forced the turnaround because I could no longer feel my feet; Jividen could no longer feel his hands. We warmed up at Peet's in Evanston and hustled home.

This week and the past few weeks, I've just been riding the trainer a lot and when I'm not riding, I'm doing lots of yoga, core, etc. It's working a treat.

---

I was struggling mightily after the holidays. I had something of a big disappointment that really put me through the wringer, but I'm feeling better about it all now. After seeing all my family in one place, spending good time with my parents and my brothers, and getting in some great conversations with my still reasonably-healthy grandparents, coming back to Chicago really knocked me out. I admit, I get homesick more than I should. I'm not sure there's anything I can do about that.

---

I'm going back to Ohio in early February to defend my thesis in front of my committee. At that point I'll have turned a serious corner of my life (and lifted a major weight off of my shoulders). It'll be nice to spend evenings and weekends away from the computer and without the guilt that comes with delaying work that needs to be done.

Off

2010-12-21T08:37:00.000-08:00

After Montrose, in which I had an abysmal finish, I've spent the last two weeks in the start of something of an off-season. The cycling off-season to many is the time when you don't ride much, eat like a pig, indulge, and party. Well, maybe. I've never let myself relax enough to stop riding and really pig out. The off-season for me is always a time of re-evaluation of why I care about training and racing. My interest always ebbs and flows -- sometimes I'm gung-ho on driving five hours to race a CX series. Other times, and more usually, I find it hard to rationalize the expense of racing a local event only an hour from my door.

My training, though, is unlike my dedication to racing -- I always like feeling I'm working for something. The OSRS road series, Barry-Roubaix, and Schabobele in the spring, sure. All that stuff is in about three months and I have plenty of time to prepare. Or maybe I just won't care -- a lot of it is contingent upon discretionary funds, which I have very little of. Student loan payments, rent, food, all take away from racing. I'd rather eat than race my bike, sorry. Also, it's always free to ride to Highland Park, $4 for a mid-ride muffin and coffee. Plus, more fun. Racing's a good way of making riding a bike a horrible and stressful activity.

See what I mean? Evaluation of priorities.

This December, I've only been riding about three times a week in lieu of P90X workouts, coming out of a Simplefit routine. I'm not going to preach that gospel because any time that someone does, it comes off as shilling. But holy hell, does that protocol work. I've been fairly trim for a while, but even my hipster tight Levi's 511s are getting loose on the waist. Plus, the improvements to my core strength and flexibility are pretty evident to me.

I know cycling's a great workout and it's my primary form of exercise, but riding a bike lots is pretty bad for any muscles above the waist. When I'm 50, I want to look like and ride like Al Thom and to do so, I have to do other forms of exercise other an riding a bike. Steve Edward's website is a pretty good resource -- plus, he rides for Ritte, which is straight-up awesome.

I probably won't talk about this much, just because I know no one really cares.

Update

2010-12-02T13:04:00.000-08:00

Just laying low.

Spent Thanksgiving week visiting Philly, NJ, Columbus, Pittsburgh, Marietta, Barlow, and Cincinnati. The Saab passed the 1,200 miles without a hitch, though I had to replace a long-leaking power steering line in Allison's driveway.

Campton Hills

2010-11-04T14:32:00.000-07:00

This race wasn't as muddy as last year. I went in costumed as the "Cross Commando" in camo, but I never secured a gun and I didn't want to test the ire of USAC by using a WWII army helmet as I intended. Jason Knauff of the ChiCrossCup called me out on my "half-assed" costume. He was right. I got a call-up, though, which proved modestly helpful.

The day before, the crew and I went out for a pretty hard tempo ride of three hours to Highland Park and back. I was at first trying to reserve my juice for Sunday's race, but that's no fun, so I put in the digs. I ended up paying for that on Sunday when about 35 minutes into the race, two Pegasii came around me, followed by Isaiah Jay. I managed to hold off a couple of dudes for 36/52. I did better last year.

After screaming and heckling lots of guys and gals faster and slower than I, Mike Palmer and I drove to Elgin where I got a bunch of used Saab parts for really cheap. The cooling fan has a funky resistor and the headlight relay is on the fritz -- got the parts I needed for 10% of list.

This weekend I'm not racing in order to save money. I'm itching to skedaddle in the winter when the wind's blowing hard and the mood is bleak. Vacation>CX, at least until Ohio and Illinois State Champs.

Check out my recap of the Campton Hills race on Gapers Block. Yeah, I shot the video.

UCI3

2010-10-26T09:35:00.000-07:00

Three days of racing October 8-10 in Cincinnati nearly killed me.

Friday, pulled with two to go. I was a complete wreck, dehydrated and tired. 46/52, pathetic.
Saturday, came out with a 59/79, still pretty rotten, but I felt good.
Sunday, a repeat of Saturday's performance. 55/78, serviceable.

The bruises on my legs I earned from a spill on Sunday's Harbin Park race have finally faded, though I'm still just tired all around.

The UCI3 weekend is a yearly celebration of lactic acid. I've raced Harbin every year since 2005, except 2006 when I was recovering from a broken wrist and in graduate school. Every year, I've seen some good friends and former teammates from the Campus Cyclery crew; every year, I hack up a lung full of dust. Cincinnati had not had significant rain in months and it showed in rutted, dusty racecourses that blistered hands.

Big props to the dedicated Chris Jensen who flew to Cincinnati after a business trip to NOLA, rode back with Allison and I, and filled our car full of gas, too. He's a generous man.

---

I had a better result at Hopkins Park, the race that my team Half Acre Cycling, throws in DeKalb, IL. I raced on a borrowed Ridley way too small for me and with a non-working front brake and got 32 out of 64 racers. I can roll with that.

Cars I've Owned

2010-09-30T13:39:00.001-07:00

1988 Saab 900S
1987 Mazda 626 LX
1988 Mazda RX-7 GXL
1990 Mazda RX-7 Turbo II
1986 Mazda RX-7 Base
1994 Mazda Protege DX
1988 Mazda 626 Turbo
1990 Mazda RX-7 GXL
2001 Honda Prelude
1994 Saab 9000 Turbo
1996 Toyota Avalon XLS
2002 Saab 9-3 SE Turbo

I'll get into a more detailed list with photos. This will be good.

Updates in Mediocrity

2010-09-22T07:05:00.000-07:00

On August 28th, I raced the Unnamed Epic, a 76 mile mountain bike race that went from Mineral Point, WI to Blue Mounds. The race was on a mix of terrain -- road, doubletrack, singletrack, with lots of climbing, but also big stretches where we basically rode a road race.

Chris Jensen was the real hero of the day, driving the pace in our group, and climbing better than I. At about mile 30, I started to cramp up some and fell off the back of our group and Chris Jensen, hero of the day, gave me a massive tow all the way back into the group. At the Barneveld climb (which came after the Barneveld descent where I hit 50 mph), I started falling apart and started riding solo on the trail up to Blue Mounds. In the park itself, I had the worst leg cramps I've ever had -- it was as if my legs were coursing with electricity. I rode one mile into the singletrack, starting veering left and right into trees and rock, and stopped. I looked at my bike and down into the hill toward huge razor-sharp rock gardens, boulders, and gnarled trees, and turned around and rode out of the woods.

Yeah, I quit.

Unlike my DNF at Palos, I was accepting of my fate and my inability to complete the race. As I left the race, I started riding up the hill to the parking area and ran into Dan, who encouraged me to turn around, ride back down the hill, and get into his car. I was OK with that as well.

Chris finished the race in 6:45 -- and finished around the middle. The Unnamed Epic was a stupid hard race -- I may do it again next year, most likely not. I'm just not tough enough.

The next day, Chris and I raced the xXx-Racing/Athletico relay cyclocross 1/2/3 race at Jackson Park in scorching heat. I also did the co-ed race with Allison. My race with Chris went pretty badly -- we came in dead last. My race with Allison went much better -- she wasn't keen on riding offroad or barriers, so I tried my best to make up the difference. She was also on her singlespeed Raleigh One-Way commuter and way overgeared. We ended up 39/49.

Allison finally learned what cyclists mean when they say they rode so hard they felt like they were going to puke. She came close, apparently, so good for her. She's not going to give cyclocross too much of a go, but she may be out racing on occasion if I can entice her.

Processed Lunch Day

2010-09-13T06:55:00.000-07:00

I just got really nostalgic for a lunch consisting of a Wonder Bread PB&J sandwich, ridged potato chips, a Coca-Cola, and maybe a packet of Gushers as a side.

My mom packed my lunches all through high school and the only thing from that list that was occasionally in the brown bag was the Coke. We were healthy eaters, a tradition I uphold to this day, albeit amplified.

But man, have you ever had a Wonder Bread PB&J? It tastes great -- especially if the bread has been smushed down from riding around in a brown paper sack with books in a backpack. It's even better slightly warm.

I know I won't act on this desire for processed food, but I'd like to think I would, given that it's not a regular thing.

Palos Meltdown

2010-08-25T07:20:00.000-07:00

The Meltdown melted me. I had a horrible race -- cramped up and dehydrated by the end of the first lap, my rear tire started going flat so I just decided that I was done with not having fun. I was in the dead-man zone for about an hour after I got back, which never happens to me. Oof. So much for a repeat of my 4th place last year.

At least I looked really pro sucking. Thanks to Jen Mosley for capturing a shot of me where I didn't look like absolute hell.

I did win a Specialized Phenom saddle in the raffle. I don't really deserve it because I didn't finish the race, but that's just an ethical quibble that I'm gonna just ignore.

This weekend is the Unnamed Epic -- 80 miles of MTB action. Then, the xXx Relay 'cross race in Jackson Park where I'm doing the 1/2/3 with Chris Jensen and the Coed with Allison.

Gonna be tired come Monday morning.

914-6

2010-08-17T07:29:00.000-07:00

Why hike through a fen when you can just drive through it?

From BZRONG.

Sweat

2010-08-12T08:42:00.000-07:00

I sweat like it's my job.

Big Journeys

2010-07-20T12:19:00.000-07:00

My friend Robb Hunter is cooler than me and is riding a 1985 Honda Nighthawk 750 across the country. He stayed with me from Saturday until this morning, whereupon he left with Alaina Laumer, a Walnut Hillsian, to ride to Minneapolis and then onward to Canada, Seattle and California. You can track his progress here -- his Droid's beaming a GPS tracking signal to the webz and then to your home computer. I was getting worried I'd have to drive out and rescue him and Alaina when I saw them stationary at a truck stop for about an hour, but I think they were just eating a late breakfast.

It was a pretty relaxed weekend, starting off with a jaunt with Sean to Tower Road. We made it a mile shy before we got tired of killing ourselves in the heat, so we turned around and hung out in the JJ Peppers parking lot for an hour. Birchwood won out for dinner with Sean and Jessica. Saturday, it was a solid 60 miles in the sun on Saturday to Willow Springs. Sunday, nada, except visiting Evanston to see some bike racing and dinner in Matt and Amanda's backyard.

The girl whose company I keep was interviewed for Future Shipwreck. Read the interview here. I'm pretty proud of her.

Fourth of July

2010-07-06T13:34:00.000-07:00

Dairy Queen in Wolcott, Indiana.

Big globe in Hoffner Park in the Northside neighborhood of Cincinnati, Ohio.

It was a trip to pack up more ephemera and visit with old friends.

Rip-off Ray Bans leave good tanlines.

Big miles on the Mystery Route on Saturday with Judi and Eric of Team Hungry. Here we are taking a break at the top of Flick Road. We scoped out the Duke Energy powerplant and got in way beyond the RDA of Vitamin D. Sunday, it was up Kirby to Sheed to some other stupid steep stuff in the noon heat. I woke up with 5 hours of sleep Monday and ended up doing hill repeats in the shade of Mt. Airy's Shepard's Creek so that I could eat the Dairy Queen (white Oreo strawberry Blizzard) without guilt. Ride to eat, dawg.

James and Pam have a really adorable kid. He's well-behaved, too -- good parenting.

It's always sad to get back on the road west-bound on I-74. The house I grew up in is on the market and while it's not received any real offers, it'll be gone someday. That building's got good bones -- and a dingy handprint of mine from when I was 9 in the back stairway.

My dad and I talked about gardening. I helped my mom plan out a new business.

Ohio.

Sigh...

2010-07-01T07:56:00.000-07:00

2009 CONTINENTAL IN RETROSPECT from RAPHA on Vimeo.

I love this stuff.

Selling my Seigler

2010-06-27T15:57:00.000-07:00

Help me pay for my last thesis hour of graduate school:

Seigler ALR large (57cm) frame/fork/seatpost made of Dedacciai 7003.

Seigler's no longer in business, but this frame was made in the same Taiwanese factory as many of other quality race bikes. Beautiful welds. This bike's made of the same tubing as the previous generation aluminum Pinarello Prince, et. al. Extremely light, very quick handling, and an all-day rider. English BB; braze-on FD.

I'm asking $400.

Never crashed, never tipped-over. It's been rained on a few times, but never saw salt. I had the frame built up with Campy Record and with a Powertap, it was sitting at 15.5 pounds. Damn!

I've put in 7 hour long rides on this frame and I was no worse for wear other than being exhausted out of my mind. Stiff for the sprint; climbs like a goat. I'm sticking with steel for now, so hey, this one's got to go.

Included is a CarbonLord 31.6 seatpost and a Reynolds Ouzo Pro fork. The stock fork had a "line" on the inside of the steerer and I got paranoid, so I replaced the fork, while keeping the stock one in a box. I really think the OE fork is fine -- the line looks to be from the molding process -- I just was in an overly cautious fame of mind at the time.

The paint on this frame is fairly fragile -- a few minor chips and a chainsuck mark. No dings, no dents.

I have parts available to build the bike up if you want. At this time, I'm not looking to sell this stuff outright, but if you want a jump start building the bike up I have a Centaur brakeset, Centaur or Chorus crank and BB, Centaur FD, stems and handlebars.

Belleville, Illinois

2010-06-25T10:31:00.000-07:00

I got back last night from a last-minute, mid-week trip to Belleville, Illinois to help Jen lay her father, and Naz's father-in-law, to rest. It was good to see Jen and Naz, albeit the circumstances could always be better. Andrew, Cinnamon and I helped out as much as we could, which basically meant being there.

Jen and Naz (and family),

You guys are strong, real strong.

***

I went out for a run and came across this abandoned railroad trestle. "I've grown tired of holding this." That's a sentiment we all share at some time or another.

Necessities

2010-06-15T12:32:00.000-07:00

I've been doing some thinking about downsizing and rightsizing, to borrow those horrible words that are so tossed-about when discussing the layoffs of hard-working Americans. I'm interested about reduction, slimming down the weight of possessions. I've talked about this before, and it's something I'm still working on, even if I'm not doing such a good job.

All I need to make my life complete is:

A) Panini press, which I have thanks to my mom. Love ya! I grill asparagus, I grill sausages, I press sandwiches, I grill burgers thanks to this fancier version of a George Foreman grill. (Maybe the Foreman's a more basic version of the panini press.) I don't want a BBQ -- I have no use for that fuss.

B) A nice, medium-quality 'cross bike. I don't need three road bikes in various states of repair, a 'cross bike, a mountain bike, a fixed beater, and a mountain bike. I ride all of my bikes lots, but I only need one. I'm not sure how, if ever, I'll achieve the whittling down of my collection to one machine, but it's kinda nice to think about making it so. OK, fine. Two bikes, one 'cross, the other mountain. You can't rip rocky trails on a 'cross bike.

C) A good knife. I got a lovely one from Naz for my birthday. I'll post up a picture of it tonight. Most food worth eating ain't worth eating without cutting it. Something's wonderful about slicing some manchego cheese and a ripe pear for your beau in a park on a lazy Sunday afternoon while you catch up on the news (see E).

D) A French press. You can't have revolution without caffeine.

E) The New York Times. Quality information in a portable non-electronic format is indispensable for killing the commute, luxuriating in a park on a lazy Sunday afternoon, covering one's head in a hailstorm, or blocking out a crack in a drafty door. A newspaper is so much more than reading material -- it's a tool.

Ridiculous

2010-06-11T10:48:00.000-07:00

Via Big Ring Riding.

I wish my legs looked like this.

Sausages

2010-06-11T08:18:00.000-07:00

Dinner two days ago:

Mushroom and swiss sausages from Gene's Sausage Shop in Lincoln Square
Sauerkraut
Lentil and spinach soup

Thomy Delikatess senf mustard was applied liberally to the sausages, which were consumed via a whole wheat bun.

Life was golden that evening. Post-sausage feast, we went for a walk and sprinted in the park. I told more jokes about cats and tried to do a headstand.

Destinations

2010-06-09T14:14:00.000-07:00

Moscow, Idaho
San Francisco
South Dakota Badlands
Prague
Warstein

If only my bank account matched my ambition. I'll be lucky if I make it to Moscow or SF.

WEMS 12 Hours of Northern Kettles

2010-05-26T11:25:00.001-07:00

It pays to know the rules.

Sean, Jessica and I drove to the heart of Wisconsin last Saturday to race the three hour solo WEMS Northern Kettles race. I went in feeling pretty optimistic about my chances -- I do prefer longer endurance events instead of shorter, sharper efforts. Good golly, though, was this a tough cookie of a race.

We started off with a Le Mans-style start and I was about the 8th rider into the singletrack. I was moving pretty well and riding reasonably clean over the "babyheads" that lay across most of the first half of the course. The track was pretty technical -- some of the more technical trail I've ridden and it demanded constant attention. A few times during the race, I'd space out and start thinking about things other than racing and I'd find myself running of the course into a bush or bank of dirt. About 10 minutes in, I snagged a good sized branch in my rear wheel and stopped to pull it out, which gave an opportunity for four riders or so to pass me by. That sucked.

What also sucked was that I started wallowing in the corners and riding sloppy. Where the first half of the first lap had me cruising and railing, the rest of the race I was a mess on wheels.

Oh, and my saddle kept on coming loose, forcing me to stop and tighten it up. This also caused me major discomfort because the Arione saddle I use on my MTB was now in a pretty bad position for riding.

And I was overheating like a pig and started running out of gas in the third lap, despite three bottles of normal-strength Perpetuum. I was coming off a cold, but I felt good enough to ride.

I was pulling in OK lap times. 45 minutes apiece for the first and second, 48 for the third. As this was a MTB race with a set duration, I was to do as many laps as I could in the time allotted (three hours). For some reason I thought that we were to continue riding as much as we could within the three hours, including going out for a final lap knowing that we'd finish after the three hour window. I was wrong. We were supposed to finish under three hours.

As I went out for my fourth lap, I saw the clock say 5:19, which gave me only 41 minutes to do a lap. If I wasn't riding like complete garbage and was feeling better, that might have happened. But the odds were against that and if I so wanted, I could have left the race at that moment and finished. But, I did an extra lap as I'm a glutton for punishment and I don't understand the rules.

That's OK, though, as I ended up 18th out of 34. Not as good as I had hoped, but not as bad as it could have been. I really do think I'll improve at the endurance MTB game -- apparently the Northern Kettles course was a real tough nut, an assertion with which I agree.

Afterward, we stopped at the Hamburger Haus in Dundee and met Scott, a forklift operator for Piggly-Wiggly, who broke the ice with us by asking if we ever shopped at the Bass Pro Shop in Chicago. He was a real awesome guy, just hanging out, eating his ice cream.

Ohio.

2010-05-23T13:25:00.000-07:00

Everything's green and verdant in Ohio. The southeastern and southwestern corners of the state are where my heart lays to rest. It's familiar territory and familial -- the rolling hills and fields of the farm is my heritage.

I spent five days in Ohio visiting my grandparents who are along in years along with my brothers and some friends. I cleaned out gutters, worked in the yard, got some superlative riding squeezed in. This was my birthday gift to myself. It wiped me out, though. 85 degrees and thick air. It was a day of hard steep sharp climbs, up-and-down with little rhythm. 30 minutes in, I was covered in hives from some sort of allergic reaction. I slogged through, scratching the entire time. Special thanks to Pepsi Co. for the salvation in form of a soda at the Bartlett Exxon. Every day was a variation of the Deming Loop -- I did explore the Veto Lake wilderness area on Sunday before a breakfast at my aunt's. Thanks Cindy for the eggs.

God bless the Midwest.

Leaving (for a bit)

2010-05-11T14:54:00.001-07:00

5/12/10: Chicago to Columbus
5/13/10: Columbus to Barlow
5/16/10: Barlow to Cincinnati
5/17/10: Cincinnati to Chicago

It'll be a long trip to see the family. I'm looking forward to some John Deere and Caterpillar time out in the fields of the family farm.

I may never come back.

Winona Lake/Public Image

2010-05-04T08:00:00.001-07:00

So, I bought a new mountain bike, a new-old-stock Jamis Dragon for a stellar price, which arrived last Monday. Five days later, I raced it at the Fat and Skinny Tire Festival in Winona Lake, Indiana. The big idea was that I'd race the Cat. 2 "expert" race that did two laps of the 10 mile course and aim for a top-10. It didn't really happen like that.

Saturday morning, Pete met me over at my place and with Allison, we got ourselves on the road by about 8 a.m.. Which was about an hour too late to do the Cat. 2 race, because I completely forgot about the time-zone difference from Chicago to interior Indiana. I arrived at the race two minutes before the start of the Cat. 2 -- if I hadn't gotten lost in Warsaw, I probably could have made it and had a moment to warm up. I registered instead for the Cat. 3 "sport" race at 2 p.m., which only did one lap of the course, which looking back was a kind of good idea.

As teammates Paul-Brian and Jen came back in from doing the 2, they told me how treacherous the trails were with mud and roots. The critical takeaway notes were to run the rock garden and watch the bridges, which were slick with mud.

Chris and I at the start, ready to bring the awesome. Thanks to Paul-Brian and Jen for the photo.

The start was a loop through the grass with a hairpin to string the field out. We all sprinted off the line like we were in a 'cross race, which at about an hour long, would approximate. I was in third place going into the woods and just felt good. This sensation of feeling confident and at ease on the bike lasted about another five minutes. At the rock garden about a mile in, I disregarded Jen's advice and tried to ride over the stones, which caused my bike to drop its chain. Five riders passed me by right then, including Chris. Then, I tried to get going, but I was in the 44x15 gear or something and was on an uphill -- I couldn't even get the bike to start rolling, so I had to jump off and run it to get some momentum. Then once I got moving, I stalled out a few more times on some small ridges and had to run the bike.

This was not good.

I was stressing out and watched my possible finish on the podium disappear in a sweaty frenzy of grunting and crashing. After about five minutes of awkward, bad riding, I started to get back some rhythm and began making up some time and places. I also ran into some trees with my shoulders, both of which are now heavily bruised, and also flew over the handlebars in a crash.

Little by little, I brought it back. I ended up passing Chris in the last couple of miles, as he'd broken his chain. Like a true Hero, he was running it in to finish with dignity. I managed to come in at a decent 6th place, covered in mud, blood, and bruises. Afterward, we all went to the festival in town and enjoyed pulled pork, ice cream, and other healthy post-race food options.

Sunday, it was a hard ride to Highland Park with Sean with the usual mid-ride espresso. Sunday night, Allison and I went to see Public Image Limited, who are in the States for what is undoubtedly a tour all about the lucre.

PIL, playing "Death Disco" aka "Swan Lake"

PIL put on an amazing, inspired show, which is funny to say considering they've not played together in some 17 years. But, there was Johnny Lydon and a band made up of two former PIL players (former Damned and Slits) playing the classics and with a smile. Dark early blasts such as "Albatross," "Death Disco," and "Religion II" were a mixed with their later post-rock new-wave such as the eponymous "Rise" and "Warrior." Two-plus hours of bass-heavy sound with Lydon showing-off the throat singing skills, Sunday's show was one of the best I've ever seen. I'll stand by that claim.

Beauty

2010-04-23T10:45:00.001-07:00

Jamis Dragon

2010-04-21T08:06:00.001-07:00

I just consummated the purchase of a brand-new 2008 Jamis Dragon Comp hardtail. It's nothing exceptional -- 631 steel frame, Tora fork, XT/LX mix -- but it means that I'll be able to hit up the late Spring/Summer mountain bike races. I've done pretty well with what was described by many as an obsolete bike, so maybe with something that's reasonably within the arc of semi-state-of-the-art (it has discs and 9 cogs in the back), I may improve just a bit.

I'm still itching to own a Specialized S-Works hardtail or Yeti ARC with XX, but my budget right now is tight and I can't go on looking for the diamond-in-the-rough bargain, because if I do, the season will pass me by and I'll have not done any MTB races or gotten in trail time.

Now I've got Spooky on the mind.

Dang, just look at this thing. $1,100 for the frame, anodized. I'd choose black or orange, maybe both, Halloween-stylee.

Two days ago, I dropped $80 to register for the Unnamed Epic, a 75 mile point-to-point MTB race in southern Wisconsin. The braggadocio came in full effect and I said something to Jensen about finishing it in four hours. I can and have done 75 miles solo on the road in four hours, but in the dirt's a different story. Let's say five and if I can come in under 5:30, I'll be tickled pink.

The Dragon comes to me on Monday. I'm chewing my nails off in anticipation. Expect some serious-looking sepia-toned pictures of me on it in double-time.

Leland

2010-04-20T12:04:00.001-07:00

In sum: I flatted five minutes and 2 miles into the 60 mile Leland Kermesse. I rolled over a huge rock and punctured a brand-new Gatorskin. Patrick stopped and said "Take my wheel! Take my wheel!" like a true Hero, but in my hesitation, the pack was already way down the road. Patrick wasn't feeling well and wanted to drop out of the race, so when he saw me at the side of the road, he stopped to help me out.

I should've taken the wheel and tried to get back into the race, but with the wind at near gale force, it would've been hard, maybe impossible. Hey, it's always worth a try.

Instead, Patrick and I rode around to various corners and cheered on friends and teammates. With the tailwind, I saw a speed of 40 MPH on the flat. Woah.

I had to make up the difference Sunday morning, so I woke up early and did the Judson ride -- 71 miles in 3 1/2 hours all the way up to Libertyville, IL and back.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around with Allison, getting coffee, engaging in feats of strength in Winnemac Park, and other really interesting and fascinating things.

Allison and I are talking about moving...again. Our current place sucks, despite how it looks on the surface. There are holes in the building that are home to pigeons, with some pigeons setting up shop in the bathroom ceiling. We've complained to the landlords several times, but nothing. Our rear security gates are still broken, even after several complaints and months. It's stupid. When people on Yelp call your landlords slumlords, it's best to take heed.

H8TR100

2010-04-12T11:24:00.001-07:00

Oh, where to begin!? The Hell of the Southern-End-of-Wisconsin, or H8TR100, was just this past weekend and I, along with some of my best pals from Half Acre and from other teams, descended upon Madison for a helluva 43 mile bike race, er..."ride" that had us sweating like the dickens through field, forest, and railroad tunnel.

I brought the Voodoo, for what is looking like its last race before I take the damn thing apart to do the overhaul I said I was going to do back in December. But so long as it kinda shifts and brakes, I couldn't find a reason to get greasy with it. And it didn't break down on me, so maybe no maintenance is good maintenance.

Ben and I drove up Friday evening and made the 140 mile haul from Chicago to Madison in about two hours, with traffic. The Saab's a highway star if ever there was one, but man, does that thing suck down the premium fuel with two bikes on the roof. But, like I said over in the Ten Speed Heroes blog, a car with bikes on the roof looks dang good, so wasting a little gas is no bother for the bragging rights. We made it to the Essen Haus just in time for Josh and Lauren to give Ben and I each a free Bitburger. We both also stuffed our pockets full of peanuts to snack on until we were able to get our eat on.

We walked up to the Great Dane and ate like pigs and argued about what constituted the best way to have the "last bite." On our way back to the car we met our new friend Maggie, who left her friends to hassle us about something. Not really sure what was going on there. Then it was to Jason and Amber's lovely little place on the shore of Lake Monona to hang out with their bunny Scout and for sleep. Thanks again to those two for enduring their teammate's stink and sweat for a night.

After breakfast, we rolled on over to the race, whereupon I got to drinking lots of coffee, provided gratis by the handsome promoters. I drank about a pot of the stuff, it was that good. Then after a brief discussion about the dangers of the route and chants of "H8T!" we got down to the business of bike racing. The course started with a neutral rollout through a residential neighborhood to a overgrown, grassy strip of field next to a road. There, the race started in earnest and the crashes commenced!

I'm not the fastest dude on the block, nor the best bike handler, but I can kinda get things done when they need to be done. And done I did. Through the grass, I passed traffic as I could and was sensible, and then when the route transitioned to the gravel/sandy main trail, it was on. I settled in with a few guys and we took hard pulls to try to lessen time loss to the leaders. Oh, and who were the leaders? Just your usual fast-as-hell regional stars such as the Lalonde brothers, Ben Popper, Polska, etc. I have no pretension of thinking I could hang with those guys unless they were going really slow or were rolling on a MTB and me on a motorcycle, but I didn't want to roll in to the finish a half hour behind them.

So, in propelling myself forward on my bike, I was dropping the dudes I was with pretty easily. This kinda sucked. Why? I wanted to ride with other people, but ride fast. I could opt to ride fast and solo, or go kinda-fast and with other people. I guess I'm pretty competitive, so I opted for the former. And I ended up riding with a number of different folks, who helped me get a breather and vice-versa.

At the railroad tunnel, it was just me and this guy B.J. on a singlespeed and we had to slow due to the tunnel being completely, absolutely pitch-black on the inside. Oh, and there were firecrackers going off and speed metal playing out of a boombox as we rode through. Totally and completely awesome. About a mile or so from the turnaround, the train of elite racers, led by Ben, came screaming by. I offered a whoop and a pumped fist to spur him on. He kinda just looked at me like I was a mirage or a ghost.

We were offered a choice of beverage at the turnaround, PBR or water. I slugged a PBR down my gullet to help with the hydration; however, once in my stomach, though, that light pilsner proceeded to mix in strange ways with the Hammer Perpetuum that I'd been gulping. But, my stomach is ironclad, so after a few belches, all was well.

Then back to the park, it was mostly a solo ride, except for about 5-7 miles I shared with Dave from Flatlandia until he had to drop off to let off some natural pressures. I kept on trucking along, the wind at my back, and got myself back to the park well ahead of much of the field. No results, because I finished outside the top-10. Let's say I got 15th!? OK! 15th!

Then we partied, well, I ate about four bagels and drank a gallon of water. My face was encrusted with salt, my legs were covered in filth and dirt, and my eyes were bloodshot. I was a walking, talking mess and it felt great.

I won a t-shirt at the raffle, but so did everyone else. The team also provided some booze that went out to three hardest dudes around -- one had just recovered from a broken shoulder, the other a broken ankle, and the last some wicked kidneystones. All three rode a hard race and all three deserved some Half Acre Lager.

Notch my first H8TR100 down; let's make this a yearly tradition.

Then it was back to the city and an evening spent hustling around with Matt and Amanda. Holler.

Yesterday I rode an uninspired and lazy 35 miles to Highland Park because I was tired and sore. I should've just gotten brunch or slept-in instead.

H8TRate

2010-04-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

Ben and I are driving up to Madison, WI to take part in the H8TER 100 with teammates Jason, Tim, and Josh. We've got a case of Half Acre to give out as a special prize for the racer who most epitomizes "suffering".

If I don't make it back, look somewhere by the railroad tunnel we're supposed to ride through. Gah.

Mitchell Memorial

2010-04-07T07:52:00.000-07:00

So, when the Ohio State Race Series schedule was posted up a few months ago, I saw that there was an event titled "Mitchell Memorial". Huh, Mitchell Memorial is on the west side of Cincinnati -- and where I do most of my riding when I go back home. There's very little traffic, and a mix of short-n-steep and long-n-gradual climbing.

I'll argue that the riding in Cincinnati is some of the best in the midwest and the racing scene is great, too. This is a typical "killer loop" that I like to do. It hurts like the dickens, but it's such a great ride. There are a few reasons I go home as much as I do: I do my laundry for free, I eat Graeter's ice cream, and I get in real hard hill training.

There aren't a ton of crits, but lots of hilly and flat road races, a long-running weekly time-trial series, and tons of 'cross. Chicago's crit scene is amazing, so any other locale pales. Chicago's got a bigger scene that's also for many people, me included, most of their social circle. For a transplant, most of the people I consider my best friends in town I know from riding and racing bikes.

But Mitchell Memorial -- that's home turf for me. I know those roads -- I know every crack in the pavement, every turn. And to race it? Shoot, got my target race, even though I've never been that interested in "targeting" races; I like doing as well as I can in every race I enter. I pay good money and relationship capital on amateur bike racing, so why waste it on a half-assed effort?

Saturday morning, I rode the 7 miles to the course easy. The weather was calling for rain, thunderstorms, hail, etc -- a dreadful forecast, but I like riding my bike in bad conditions, so I looked at the sky with relish. I got to the registration and talked to Judi for a while; it seemed that a gust of wind had come through and tossed the registration tent into the woods along with most of the registration forms. The race was >< this close to being canceled, but the hard work of volunteers running through the woods to chase down numbers and forms kept the race on.

I then got to hanging with my boys from Team Hungry, which is the team I would probably be on if I were still in Ohio. Team Hungry was borne from the ashes of the Campus Cyclery squad, so in a sense, it's an extension of my former team. Everyone on the squad is solid and all race with heart. I told Scott Pardi that I'd work for him as a Hungry for a day.

The 41-rider 4 race started with a steep descent down Jordan Valley that everyone took cautiously owing to the fact that 30 mph gusts and spits of rain were now making riding conditions challenging. I got to the bottom of the descent, made a right onto East Miami and pushed hard up the short climb, staying in the front 1/3. After a few miles of this, we made a right turn onto Buffalo Ridge. And this is where the pack came apart. I stayed near the front of the climbing group, but saw Scott make an attack with a Main Street Velo dude on the second half of the climb. At the top of the climb, I looked around and saw that it me and about 12 other guys had survived the ascent, which meant that we had to hustle if we were to stay ahead of the rest of the field.

For the next four laps of the 8.2 mile course, we pushed hard, but there were a few moments that our pace slowed to the point the race felt like a normal hard training ride. Well, until we got to the Buffalo Ridge climb where everyone gassed it as hard as they could to either A) shred the pack, or B) hang on for dear life, or C) both. I was in the C camp, maybe all of us were.

Nothing felt better than the right turn onto Jordan where the white-knuckled descent only offered a few minutes of rest where one could coast and allow some recovery. There wasn't any bad riding in our group and everyone kept their line.

The final time up the hill, a few guys broke loose ahead and I couldn't bridge it back up to them. I blew up some at the end and rolled in for 14th. I wanted to get in under 10th place, maybe that was my goal, but I'm not at all disappointed.

Scott ended up winning. Stud. (Now I can rationalize my performance by saying I was regulating the pack to prevent them from bridging up to him as he soloed it in. Ha.)

Good news for once

2010-04-02T07:40:00.000-07:00

This happened.

More information here.

It seems rare when justice is served and truth and honesty prevails. I still have and hold doubts about the OU administration but this move at least means that the powers-that-are at that school can act reasonably.

Barry-Roubaix/Panini Party

2010-03-29T07:49:00.000-07:00

The last time I was in Michigan, it was about 18 years ago. I remember going to the Henry Ford museum and climbing all over some locomotives and P-51 Mustangs. I went back again on Friday to race the second edition of the Barry-Roubaix 'cross/road race. I did pretty well, which is the first time in a long time I've done well in a bike race.

Preliminary notes:

1. Taco Bell and Dairy Queen is good pre-race carboloading food.
2. Registering for "Sport" category is sandbagging if you train on the road.
3. Five-door hatchbacks are Europro.
4. Paul-Brian's got the best inflatable pads.
5. "Expert" unless it's technical.
6. Gear range is overrated.

The start of the race was cold. I'd underdressed in a Craft thick long-sleeve base layer, jersey, and uninsulated team issue knickers knowing that I'd warm up through exertion. Still, standing on the line sucked -- we were all shaking and shivering waiting for the call to roll.

Eventually the party got moving onto the road for a semi-neutral rollout to the first gravel section. The transition off the road into the dirt, which was more like sand, wasn't all that bad. People were playing it safe and slow. Once into the dirt, I was able to pick up speed and start passing riders who were bogging down. At a small incline, I had to get off and run with the bike due to stalled traffic -- and ended up passing a good amount of them.

Once over the crest, it was a steady mix of rollers. The gravel and dirt was intimidating on the fastest of descents, but you could really fly over the stuff by getting weight off the handlebars and over the rear wheel. I rarely had to touch my brakes.

After a couple miles, I was settled in with a few dudes, all expert racers, who along with me took good pulls and kept the attacks and speed high. I passed by Paolo and worked a while with Isaiah who'd had better starts in the Expert category. Up and over the hills, none all that long nor steep. Which is good, because I totally botched a shifter cable replacement job and couldn't get my front derailleur to move out of the 46 ring AND I could only use my 12-20 cogs in the rear. The longest climbs had me out of the saddle, grinding them out at 45 RPM.

God bless my long legs and 175mm cranks; I've got leverage and know how to use it.

Funny, I actually dropped a fair number of riders on the climbs -- climbing's one of my stronger suits, but it's interesting that even with a gearing handicap, I could still put in a drop effort. By the time our group got onto the 3 miles of pavement left in the race, we were all pulling hard to try to get in under two hours. Turning into the park, some guy made an attack, and I followed suit. A few hundred feet from the finish line, I went into a sprint to stay away from some monster on a MTB who was gaining on me.

I ended up pulling a 1:58:44, which was good for 2nd place in the 30-39 category. My time would have earned me a result in the teens out of 50+ riders if I raced Expert, which I will next year. Unless I decide to race Elites (err...). I came home with a ton of Bob's Red Mill steel cut oatmeal and lots of free beer. Al Thom beat me for a convincing result in the Expert 50-59, but Mike Hemme crushed it in the Elite race, which had to go around that damn course twice.

Afterward, it was to Bell's for beer and eats and the back to Chicago.

I also played host to my cousin Isaac Ward, who was in town with his wife. She was at a bachelorette party and he needed a place to stay. I was more than happy to oblige -- Isaac's a brother to me and we don't get to see each other much outside of the big holidays. We got dinner at Bad Dog and brunch yesterday at M. Henry -- all the while we made jokes about our family and discussed ways of creating a new family legend.

Then my wild weekend was capped with me and Allison's hosting of a panini party at our apartment. Two panini presses, BYOF&B (Bring Your Own Fixings and Beer) and a good group of friends rounded out the evening. Allison and I provided cheese, cole slaw, potato salad, sauerkraut, and pork loin -- our guests did the rest. It was fantastic and it seemed everyone had a panini-filled stomach when they left.

I think we may make this a semi-regular thing. Paninis and bike racing -- a good combo.

2010-03-24T14:00:00.001-07:00

I've got a new rose.

Viva Agostini

2010-03-22T13:04:00.001-07:00

I rode the self-propelled bike a whole lot last week in North Carolina and Cincinnati. Pictures here. It'll take a while to write something interesting up, so entertain yourself with some sweet photos. I think I got in 18 hours and 280 miles of riding in last week. I'm not even that tired -- I'll attribute that to the Hammer Recoverite I started choking down after every workout.

I've gotta say, everyone on the Half Acre Cycling squad is top-notch. The best around.

Viva Agostini, er...or something.

2010-03-03T09:32:00.000-08:00

I just remembered the time I was eight years old and at my grandparent's farm for the Fourth of July. My mom, brothers, and some other family members decided to walk through the woods behind the farm to go look at an abandoned house. I got separated along the way and ended up stuck in a huge blackberry briar patch, covered in scratches from the thorns. I think I was trying to crawl through the patch to get to the other side.

I remember looking up and seeing tons of big, ripe blackberries hanging from the canes. I don't think I ate any -- it didn't seem like a good idea with my family using sticks to push the canes aside so I could crawl back out.

2010-03-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

I rode in today listening to the New Bomb Turks. For the first time in a long time, the sun was shining over the lake. Sunshine and the New Bomb Turks.

Things are gonna be alright.

Do the Strand

2010-02-22T09:12:00.000-08:00

We've all been here in a literal or figurative sense. Covered in crap, exhausted, but exultant. Right now I'm definitely underwater and tired, but I feel like the finish line is coming up ahead.

From Yay Cycling!

2010-02-08T07:43:00.000-08:00

Rode with Ben and Sean to Calumet Park yesterday to scope things out for the upcoming Gapers Block crit series. Three hours, 48 miles. It was slow going at times - the path was iced over much of the way south of McCormick and 23C tires don't grip all that well. I didn't stack it, although Sean did in the sand by 57th. The way back was much better - the sun melted a path through the ice and I was able to drag race Ben at a few spots.

Somehow I managed to ride 9 hours this week. Now I'm tired and I have this huge urge to drink lots of orange juice.

Orange juice.

Chill Out.

2010-01-21T07:45:00.000-08:00

Lanolin over at Ritte Van Vlaanderen says it best:

Cycling for recreation and sport is a silly silly thing. Seriously. Most of us are grown ups who shave our legs, wriggle into spandex, and fret over color coordination to such a degree only a hipster could understand. We’re all just riding around on bicycles for shit’s sake. And perhaps to make the scene even more absurd, we’re racing each other, like little kids at recess. The next time you’re on a group ride, sprinting for an imaginary line just think about how inherently silly the situation is. And then to take it a step further, we pay lots of money to organizers to let us sprint each other to actual lines so we can get points and race against people who are even deeper in clutches of the Obsession.

[...]

The vast majority of roadies out there are good people, but the assholes taint the scene, pun intended. Just go to a cyclocross race… the vibe is completely different because the inherent absurdity of cyclocross is undeniable by anyone, so therefore nobody makes the mistake of taking it too seriously. But the road scene won’t change unless we all recognize that we too are doing something very, well, silly.

But most importantly:

In the end, we’re just grownups riding around on bicycles. And there’s nothing serious about that whatsoever.

Freezing Rain

2010-01-20T08:08:00.000-08:00

I picked a really lousy day to ride the Seigler to work. The weather calls for freezing rain sometime in the afternoon and the slick tires on the bike are no match for that. I checked the weather this morning and all seemed well. Sucks.

I'm not feeling particularly brave on ice either, ever since I smashed my face into the top-tube of the Voodoo while trying to avoid falling on the ice a few weeks ago. Coming into work with a busted nose kinda sucked.

Unrest

2010-01-16T11:15:00.000-08:00

When I moved away from Cincinnati in the summer of 2006, I had to put my collection of CDs and LPs into storage at my parents' houses. I loaded up my computer and iPod with as much stuff as it could hold, sealed the lids, and stuck the bins into the basement. They've sat there ever since -- I barely remember what I even have. I won't get rid of any of them, not unless my situation is dire, but it's funny to think about how something that was such a big part of my life (collecting and buying music) fell by the wayside. Now I don't even keep up, other than reading Pitchfork every couple of days or stopping in Reckless or Shake It! whenever I'm close by.

I really got into Unrest, a DC post-hardcore/pop/punk band, right before I moved away. When I first moved to Athens, I would listen to nothing but Unrest as I'd ride up and down the hills in the afternoon after class. They always sounded so lonely to me, desperate. Considering that they made these songs in their 20's and 30's, Unrest was really good at channeling the dire situation of being a teenager. "Perfect Teeth" is one of my favorite albums ever, the song "Cath Carroll" one of my favorite songs. It's the sound of caffeine-medicated loneliness, traced with a crush.

Difficulties.

2010-01-12T11:14:00.000-08:00

I had a minor procedure done last Friday to remove a small cyst from my lower back. Gross, I know. I don't think many people care about the details enough to hear them, so I'll oblige on that end. I have no urge to elicit sympathy, either. In the healing process, I find it hard to walk as each step is painful, not even when I take short, slow ones. I can only sit very still and can only touch the ground by crouching. I'm moving like my grandfather -- hesitatingly and with care.

It's frustrating to be compromised in my movements. I'm a fast impatient walker. I squeeze past people on escalators, move them out of my way with my arms on the train. I now stand still and hope that no one pushes hard into my back because if they did, I'd likely drop to the ground in pain.

I'm optimistic that I should start feeling better in a few days, though the complete healing process takes weeks. Some yoga I can manage, but nothing else. This breaks my heart some, as the weather here in Chicago has finally turned slightly. I can't imagine throwing my leg over the top-tube of the bike, let alone actually riding it. No big deal, though. The lesson learned from back in the spring is that it won't take too much hard work to get back to where I was. I came into this thing in good shape, so provided I don't gain a big spare tire, I'll be alright.

No News

2010-01-07T12:11:00.000-08:00

The only green thing these days is the moss.

I spent a week and a half in Ohio as a vacation from the noise, congestion, and the people. Half of that time was spent at the family farm. Now that's a vacation. I would do anything to live in the country -- I feel like I'm just biding my time.

Ohio riding is the best: Athens to Barlow. Cincinnati Loop. I daydream about going up and down these familiar hills under my own power when the weather's as ratbelly grey as it is today. I go home to visit my folks and I spend half the time out rolling around, doing my thing.

I finally bought a 24-hole PowerTap 2.4SL Campagnolo-specific hub to replace the Shimano unit that I've been using with a conversion cassette. It's being laced up to a DT Swiss aero rim and with blue nipples. I guess that's cool.

Also we bought another Saab, a 2002 9-3 SE with the high output turbo engine. It's the third Saab I've owned, the others being an '88 900S in red and a '94 9000 CS-Turbo. It's good to be back in something Swedish, even though GM's probably going to kill the brand. All it needs now is a roof rack and a "SAVE SAAB" sticker on the rear window -- both in the mail.

Team Pizza

2009-12-10T13:13:00.000-08:00

Because I'm going to be forced off the bike for several weeks due to a minor medical procedure in January, I feel compelled to keep on training as usual for the rest of the month. This week's been lazy -- I haven't ridden in to work once this week and I didn't even touch the bike Monday or yesterday. I'm kinda cool with that, but I love the balance that putting in good riding hours affords. You can eat half a pizza and your body needs the calories (albeit without all the grease). The pizza these days is still forthcoming, but I'm hesitant to knock down half a pie with the same gusto as I did in September when I was putting in 12 hour weeks and racing MTB or CX every weekend.

Next week I'm in Ohio for about 9 days and each day I'll be out in the hills and exurbs of Cincinnati, just cruising, drinking gas station coffee, and enjoying myself in the company of empty roads and ex-teammates.

The hope is that I go into my forced leave from riding with some decent fitness. Back in March when I hurt myself something awful on a turnstile, I was off the bike for about three weeks. The first couple of rides back, I had no high-end. However, after a few good days of Tabatas, things were back to a reasonable state of normalcy. So yeah, February will suck when I'm trying to get the high short-term power back together, but these days, I don't really care.

Besides 'cross, I'm not fussing with any non-endurance type events. I'd like to get down to Ohio and Indiana and up to Wisconsin for long road races, but these days, I'd rather go mountain bike racing. Less pressure, more fun. There I said it. I'm also into time-trials, too. But I'm not enough of a nerd to have a TT bike and aero helmet.

You won't see me at the line in a crit, except maybe the Half Acre Calumet races. Value to dollar to risk don't add up, especially since I never liked racing them anyways.

Team Pizza.

Montrose

2009-12-08T11:32:00.000-08:00

Katsu warned me two weeks ago that I should aquaseal the rear Vredestein Campo clincher that I've been rolling on since last season because the sidewalls were looking rough and some cord was fuzzing out. I just wanted to finish the season on the tire, as I've been too lazy and busy to do the regluing job on the Challenge Fango/Mavic SSC SL rear wheel that I've had sitting around my place. I did a bang-up job on the front, but when it came time to do the rear, I got more glue on my hands than I think was left between the tire and the rim, so as such, I don't trust it to race on.

I should've just taken Katsu's advice, because I ripped that tire open on the second lap of the final ChiCrossCup race at Montrose Harbor -- the Illinois State Championship. I noticed it was flat after the sandpit section and I started running with the bike to salvage my dignity and finish the race, even if I came in dead last. Teammate Al Thom came by and yelled for me to take his bike, as he was shot from pulling in a convincing second place in the earlier Masters 50+ race. So, I took his bike, a beautiful Independent Fabrications with Easton deep section carbon tubulars and got to racing, despite people heckling me saying "Hey! That's an illegaaaaaaaaaal bike change!"

The thing was, was that I use Shimano pedals, Al uses Eggbeaters. Shimano cleats don't clip into Eggbeaters. Eggbeaters have no surface area to speak of. Al's also 2-3 inches shorter than I am.

So there I was, riding a bike that didn't fit me with pedals I couldn't clip into nor stand on. My riding style has me out of the saddle to accelerate out of every corner -- on Al's bike, it was sit and spin. Which I did to come in at about 35thish place, but because I took an illegal bike change and an official noticed, I was marked DNF. Huge thanks to Al for saving my race. Of course, I would've been in the 20's or better were it not for my mechanical, but see, I've got great excuses.

I realized later that I could've taken the rear wheel out of his bike and put it in mine. 9-speed Shimano clusters work with 10-speed Campagnolo, or well enough to finish the race. No matter, I was glad to have just finished the race strong.

Afterward, I enjoyed the company of my team and friends and heckled the hell out of the hundreds of other racers in the other categories.

I'm on the right, cheering Al's son on.

I'm gonna miss you, cyclocross.

Ohio Valley State Championships at John Bryan State Park

2009-12-03T10:05:00.000-08:00

Next time, it would behoove me to pay attention and get to the starting grid on time to get my call-up. As it were, I started at the very back of a 45 racer field and worked my way up to a solid 20th.

Yeah, I bet I could've done better if I was at the front, but I'm not going to dwell on that. It's not like I would have earned 8th or golly, even won, the damn thing.

The highlights for me:

Only having three of the masters riders who started 15 seconds after us pass me. Those guys are fast and if I can keep ahead of them, I'm doing something right.

Hanging out with Katsu and letting him fixed my poor, rickety 'cross bike that's seen too little maintenance in a long and hard racing season.

Occasionally catching glimpses of Mike Chewning as he battled for a third place podium spot and by virtue of only losing to non-Ohioans, is now the Ohio State Cat. 3 CX Champion. Holler.

Really pushing things hard in the fourth of five laps to drop a few strong guys. I finished my race alone with only masters racers immediately ahead and behind.

Realizing that Chicago has an amazing 'cross series and group of fans. Ohio, I love you more than anything, but you've gotta step it up with the screaming, shouting, and cowbell. I think this is one of the first races I've done where I wasn't half deaf afterward.

That said, racing in Ohio is fantastic and I'm happy to say I got a fair amount of it in this year.

Priorities

2009-11-23T14:36:00.000-08:00

I blew off racing 'cross the past two weeks. Not because I was tired, injured, or had a broken bike. Nah, one weekend it was to ride 96 miles, the other to go to the wedding of a long-time friend to his lovely lady. Then I raced yesterday, had an acceptable result, and did Myoplex shots.

The 96 mile ride was a repeat of the Double Loop, a ride/"race" organized by my favorite artist-cum-cyclists in Chicagoland, the Ten Speed Heroes. It was a long day on the bike, but the weather cooperated with mild winds and lots of sunshine. I was hoping for rain and mud, but y'know, now after the fact, it would have been a pretty miserable six hours on the bike if it had precipitated.

I love riding in miserable conditions. You're in a war of sorts with the elements and your sole task is to slog through to the last mile without giving up and taking shelter in a train station or coffeeshop. Most of the time, though, I'm quite happy to have a day where I don't have to wash sand out of my mouth and launder my cycling clothing 10 times before it's no longer stained grey.

The Double Loop Part II had none of that. In short, me and Troy Simeone drove the pace hard in a group with Isaiah Jay and Kevin Clark. Troy attacked at the end for the win; I came in second. We barbecued after and I ate what was quite possibly the most delicious cheeseburger ever.

The next weekend was to Cincinnati for 28 hours to see my friend Pete Fosco exit the realm of bachelorhood and marry the sweet Heather Alley. I sweated on some of my favorite people, ate way too much cheese, and made ridiculous faces.

Next morning, I got in an easy ride on the Schwinn Prelude I was selling to my brother, wearing an oversized helmet, t-shirt, soccer shorts, sneakers, and with a fanny pack holding my tools and phone. Basically, I was dressed like a Fred and it was fantastic. No team kit, no lycra, dressed as how I used to ride back in 2004 when I first got into cycling. Lycra has a certain purpose and is suitable for the sport, but being without felt great. If I saw a kitted-out rider, I would've chased them down and tried to pass them on a hill, but none were to be seen.

Yesterday, raced in Woodstock. 29th out of a field of 50. My start was crap -- at the get go, the race funneled down to single file and I was stuck as the front line riders took off on a clear course. I crashed in the second lap taking a corner too hot, and two guys passed me, one of which was Cliff Golz from Pony Shop. Oh, Dave Moyer passed me right around then, too, but I expected that.

And then I spent the next three laps about 15 seconds back from Dave, 10 seconds back from Cliff, and 10 seconds ahead of David Dokko. The course was a blast with lots of power sections and climbing. There were also a few nice ess-curves to lean into, but nothing outright technical.

This weekend, it's to Ohio for Thanksgiving. Tonight after work, I'm going to Columbus to visit Ian. Then tomorrow afternoon, to the grandparents. Back to Cincinnati on Friday, and back to Chicago Sunday. Sunday afternoon I'm racing the Ohio State Cyclocross Championships. I came second in this race a few years back -- I have no illusions that I'll probably end up somewhere in the teens or twenties this go-round.

Other notes:

Le Ramrod is going in for its yearly overhaul. The end of 'cross season means that the snow will be here soon, which means that it makes more sense to ride a bike that has clearance for good fenders and muck.

I spent a little money and got lots of bike.

I'm looking forward to eating way too much food. You should, too.

My Heroes.

2009-11-11T14:42:00.001-08:00

This is my grandpa, Charles Edward Lawton, Jr. He's 85 years old, lives in Barlow, Ohio, and worked for Union Carbide while also working a 200+ acre farm. My mom sent me this picture of him in his Army uniform today in honor of Veteran's Day.

It's a beautiful photo worthy of sharing. That's all.

Consuming

2009-11-05T08:34:00.000-08:00

Buying is not the answer.

Consumerism is such a trap. Just a year ago, when I was living a fiscally-minimalist lifestyle forced by my lack of consistent employment, I was able to make do on a yearly income of about $14,000. I was able to pay my bills, buy groceries, go out once in a while, and get by. I wasn't saving anything, but I still had a cash reserve. Now a year into full-time careerism, I blow a good portion of my paychecks on gourmet food, expensive bike parts, and restaurant meals when I'm too lazy and tired to cook. I'm saving and investing lots, which I somehow think rationalizes any bad fiscal behavior.

I've always been amazed by the tales of former-millionaires who went broke because they spend more than they make. How can someone plow through $10 million? It's easy -- just as easy as it is for someone making $30,000 to go broke just living a little extravagantly in an expensive city.

But money isn't really the point of this, right? It's the acquisition of stuff to take care of problems that don't need money to solve. Paying someone to tell you how to live your life or solve your small insignificant issues, such as a cluttered closet, seems extravagant, wasteful, and stupid.

I'm one to talk -- I have a room in my apartment dedicated to "my stuff", being five bicycles, books, and my computer. But, that room is everything, and despite its appearances, I don't feel encumbered by what I own because I use it all. Well, the books are something of an albatross -- anyone who has helped me move knows how many books I own and how heavy they make a box. But yeah, that's not the issue here, either.

The issue is getting out of the trap of trying to create value in one's life by the purchase of things. That's something we all have to reckon with, but unfortunately, something only few of us are cognizant of.

Bartlett CX

2009-10-26T07:12:00.000-07:00

33rd at Bartlett out of 50 starters. Eh.

I had an awesome start and spent the first lap in the top 15, then started sliding backward. The course was deceptively hard due to the recent rains that made the grassy/muddy sections just tacky. Most flat courses I can roll in my 46, maybe downshift to the 39 for a climb. Here, I was in my 39 from the start and all too often found myself riding in the 39x23 or 39x25 on a flat section.

By the third lap, I was in a group with teammate Al Thom, Flatlandia's Ted Burger and Martin from the Pony Shop. We were pacing each other pretty good, but at the penultimate lap, Ted and Martin surged past me in the back whirlpool section and I couldn't bridge up. On the final lap, behind me about 10 seconds back, Jason Alvarado was coming up and I couldn't pull away to get any safe distance on him. Since we couldn't get the guys in front and because there was no one behind us, we were playing some cat-and-mouse to the finish line. He gapped me on the run-up about 200 yards before the finish and I had to chase back on.

My race came down to a sprint finish and Jason finished just two feet ahead. While I'm not entirely happy with 33rd, I worked hard for it. These CCC fields are getting fast and faster, which is awesome. Lots of superstrong dudes from road and MTB are coming over and it's making these races just really competitive. It's humbling for sure and I know where I need to make up the difference.

Me being the optimistic sort, I had registered to do the 1/2/3. After the 3 race, I decided that I'd had enough of racing so I took myself out. I want to do the double, but on a day that I don't completely tear myself up in the earlier race.

After I ate some cookies, Sean and I tried to find some decent roads to ride to get some extra miles in. We just went and did an out and back because everything else was too busy with traffic or didn't have shoulders. I guess suburbs riding is hit and miss.

The Upcoming Slog

2009-10-15T08:33:00.001-07:00

'Cross season is nearly halfway over. I've got seven races in the legs and about ten more left to do. It's exciting stuff and for the first time since '05, I've really had the ability and resources to dedicate to the discipline. More so now than back then, as I don't have to work nights in a restaurant while going to school full time.

The years between were either passed-up because of the demands of graduate school or financial issues. Working part-time and without steady income really kills any discretionary spending such as amateur bike racing. 2006 was dedicated to school, 2007 I was too poor and I cracked a rib, and 2008 I was really poor. Those three years in between I just rode lots and learned to love fast group rides with friends more than racing, at least with regards to the road. You can't really casually simulate a 'cross race, but you can always pretend you're on a last-ditch heartattack breakaway in Paris-Roubaix as you streak toward the county line.

I suppose I should figure out what the point of this post is. I think I went into it thinking about base miles and cold misty silent mornings. Or maybe it was a reminisce about some races long ago that I entered, did well in, and in which earned just a pair of socks or ill-fitting hat.

I'm already thinking ahead to spring with lots of travel to Indiana, Ohio and Wisconsin for hilly road stuff. I'm also planning the purchase of modern mountain bike to contend the WORS series on. The racing emphasis is on the dirt these days, but I still love the road -- only endurance circuit stuff, though. More Double Loops, too.

OVCX Cyclocross Weekend

2009-10-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

The OVCX Darkhorse/UDF/Biowheels Cincinnati three-day weekend are the races I look forward to every year. The highlight of my calendar, if not that I'm targeting them, because I'm necessarily not, it's just that I relish the chance to race in front of my parents and friends from back home in Cincinnati. Even if I earn mediocre results, as I tend to do in these Cat. 2/3 races. It's also a nostalgia thing -- my first 'cross race ever was at Harbin Park -- and back then I did pretty decent, earning a 7th place (out of 15...'cross wasn't so popular then).

Chris, Dave and I left Chicago Thursday evening in the pouring rain -- rain that would soak Friday's course in Devou Park in Northern Kentucky. Speaking of fond memories and nostalgia: Devou Park was the place I always took my lady friends to appreciate the view of Cincinnati's skyline. Or something like that.

At the course, we parked next to Greg Heck from xXx-Athletico, hung out for a bit, then got changed into the kit to warm up. Chris and I rode up a few hills, but didn't bother going out onto the course due to the ridiculously muddy conditions. Every single bit of the grass sections of the course had been torn to shreds by the earlier races -- and the rain that was continuing to fall was making things worse. But, since cyclocross cherishes those muddy days and races, the mud was something to relish and enjoy.

I had a decent start and tried to stay ahead of the pack as it surged down the muddy embankments and off-camber sections. There was a ton of running because things were so slick that it was impossible to ride; I crashed five or six times, about once per lap, often at a near walking pace. It was slow-going, technical, and tough. I passed my teammates about halfway through the race -- Dave dropped far back with a rolled tubular, Chris was 30 seconds behind. I got 29th place, the best result of the weekend.

Chris drove me over to my dad's house after the race and I celebrated my grandmother's birthday with her at Bella Luna. Everyone from the race went to a burrito party, hung out with Molly Cameron, and drank Burger beer. Though dinner with my grandma is always a good time, I'll admit that I was a little jealous.

Saturday the skies were clear and the air cool for the second race of the weekend at Sunset Park in Middletown. Sunset Park is a small, tight course that is deceptively long -- the organizers pack a ton of course in. The race started on an uphill climb and entered into the park on a wooden ramp. Descending down the grass, one entered into a sand volleyball court with a 180 at the end. See my video of the pros riding through the sand here. Then the course hit a series of switchback off-camber sections followed by a nice muddy section behind the fieldhouse. There was a lot going on -- and it required lots of accelerations followed by hard braking and turning. On and off, on and off.

I felt good going into this race, I was warmed-up, but about halfway through the race, about three laps in, I started sliding backward. Chris passed me first, then Dave a lap later. I couldn't maintain contact and in the last lap I lost six places. I just didn't have it. A jour sans, something we all get every so often. 41st out of 55 finishers.

That night, we all went down to Mainstrasse in Covington for a mediocre meal at Cock & Bull, followed by Goldsprints at the Strasse Haus. In a match with Chris, he started whaling on my arm while Mike Chewning shoved money in my face. Not surprisingly, I lost the sprint.

We woke up Sunday to some serious cold -- a reminder that winter's on its way, as if cyclocross season wasn't enough. The group got to the race and we were all complaining and crabbing. Dave was sore, Chris was hungover. I actually felt good, albeit just tired from racing and serious post-race hang-out sessioning. The three of us warmed up and I chugged a Coke, my preferred pre-race drink.

I managed to snag a call up to the front of the start line, which is not only intimidating, knowing there's 80 racers behind you, but that I totally don't deserve it. I'll take it every time, if only to get me off the pavement faster and onto the dirt and away from any stupid crashes.

At the whistle I sprinted and was fifth place going into the grass. At this point I was passed by most, if not all the Cat 2 guys, and I settled into something of a steady rhythm punctuated by the awful climb toward the finish line and sandpits. Someone said that no other 1/4 mile takes so much out of ones' self -- and that's entirely true. The grass sucked the will and speed from me, but as it did for everyone else. The rest of the course was a great time, with some power sections, a short, hard climb and that amazing descent into the back section of the course. Four laps to go, I crashed on a corner and Katsu passed by me, yelling encouragements.

At the end I outsprinted one guy but was unable to get past the five other riders just seconds ahead. My loss, their gain.

I managed to finish 48 out of 63 finishers, and likely 70 some starters. Definitely not my best result, but one I feel like I put everything into.

Hopkins Park CX

2009-10-06T06:50:00.000-07:00

Setting up a 'cross race is hard work. Setting up a 'cross race in the pouring rain with soaking wet feet, frozen hands, and an empty stomach is even harder.

But it's fun and totally worth the reward of seeing 400 racers tear around on the track that you had a hand in assembling and then coming up to you afterward to give thanks for the good times. I deserve little credit -- I showed up, staked the lines, and rolled out tape -- but others worked much harder, chief among them Tobie from North Central Cyclery, Chris Jensen and Coach Bob Meinig.

After we set the course up on Saturday night, we rolled over to Pagliai's Pizza, which was staffed only by the cook and a server/delivery driver. I walked in to hear a customer berate the cook for taking too long to get his food to his family. We didn't wait as long -- the fact we offered the cook some of our beers probably spurred our pizza along.

Josh's parents let us crash and we all marveled at Josh's dad's collection of war memorabilia. Asleep by 11, up at 6, we were back out on the race course to finish off taping the back stretch and assemble the starting grid.

At 11, it was my time to race. Guaranteeing myself a bad start on the 2.1 mile course, the maximum allowed under USAC rules, I lined up on the left side of the grid where I would be pinched in the first hard left corner 100 feet from the line. And yes, I got stuck behind the pack and then was stuck behind a group of guys who were afraid to pass teammate Kevin Clark, who was dragging 30 feet of course tape from his rear wheel.

After Kevin pulled over, me, Paolo, Ernie from Pony Shop, and a few other guys all were lumped together. I passed Paolo on the back half of the course with three to go and eventually it was just me, trying to bridge up to Ernie. I tried making my move in the curvy section just before the start/finish, which was stupid. It was too late at that point, so I came in solo -- 25/51. Midpack hero.

This weekend has me and the crew in Cincinnati for three days of hardcore UCI racing. My mom's promised pizza.

Half Acre Opens a Store

2009-09-29T14:40:00.001-07:00

Click here.

We’ve been getting a ton of questions about the store and upcoming changes.

Here is a general overview and some quick answers.

Our goal with the store and thought behind building a production brewery right in the middle of a busy neighborhood was to make it a place where people could connect with our brewery, the process and those making the beer they drink.

It will also allow us some flexibility. To be more specific:

The Half Acre store is not a bar and will not serve food. We will sell our beer to-go and the beer & spirits of brewers and distillers we want to support. We will have six draft lines that will allow for sampling and the purchase of growlers (1/2 gallon jugs) to-go. We’ll also have a soda that we’ve made on draft as much as time allows. You can buy our beer in 6packs, 22oz bottles, growlers, 1/2bbl kegs and 1/6th bbl kegs. We’ll also sell Half Acre merchandise to outfit your entire neighborhood.

Enjoying what we do very much and doing our best to continually offer new / different beer, we will have things available here that might not be available at other locations. Not everything we brew lands in bars, stores and restaurants – it’s time consuming and expensive to develop visual identities and distribution paths. The store will allow us to share some of the things that usually don't make it out of the brewery.

Basically, the store will grant us some flexibility to readily offer you Half Acre Beer in as many forms possible in the freshest state imaginable.

We will open the week of Oct 5, 2009. We’ll be gearing things up slowly, so some things might not be available right away, but keep your pants on – we’re on it. We will offer formal tours Friday’s at 5:00pm and will add Saturday’s in the coming months. People can go out to the brewery at any time to see the machine at work. During regular working hours it will be like being at the zoo, watching us work in our native habitat kind of vibe. However at tour times we will chat it up and answer any questions anyone might have.

This should be awesome. See you here.

Cheers,

Half Acre Beer Co

Chicago, IL

USGP: Sun Prairie, WI

2009-09-28T18:41:00.000-07:00

Photo by Ben Van Couvering

Helge and I drove up to Sun Prairie, Wisconsin last Friday for the first weekend of the US Grand Prix of Cyclocross. I love doing the local racing, both here in Chicagoland and in Ohio when I'm home, but it's always great fun and a huge challenge to line up for USGP/UCI races. Where local races have the same faces and the usual sparring partners, the big races bring all the hotshots from the region and elsewhere. The fields are larger, the races harder, and the speeds faster. I don't care that my results start slipping toward midpack, because the racing and atmosphere is usually so much fun.

And as long as I'm not earning top 10 results, how I end up usually means squat. Well, just so long as I'm not lapped, or even worse, last.

The big problem with USGP/UCI racing is that I'm in the Cat. 2/3 category, full of strongmen who compete well in their local series as Cat. 2s. I compete on a mediocre level as a 3 (but I got my upgrade based on results back in '07, like that means anything), so these races are humbling. Sometimes.

The Madison/Sun Prairie USGP race, being only 160 miles away was a must-do on the calendar this year. A bunch of Half Acrians, including myself, got themselves preregistered and I snagged decent starting positions both days, 23rd on Saturday and 25th Sunday. I booked a motel room, a smoking one, apparently, which Helge and I discovered when we checked-in at the Super 8 in Sun Prairie. Being a UW home game, motel rooms were in short supply, so I took what I could get. I got a dank room that smelled like a trucker bar.

Saturday morning, Helge and I got to the course early to scope things out before our 10:15 start time. Rain the night before turned the corners sloppy and swampy and in pre-ride, I was sliding all over the place. I had my tire pressure as low as I could get it on the clincher Vredesteins I've been using since last fall, but I don't think the traction problem was mine alone -- plenty of guys who had yet to race already had brown streaks of mud up and down their kits from laying it down in a corner.

The start was a fast one, albeit with a dumb crash that took out Greg Heck of xXx. I bagged the start bad -- I started off on the third row and found myself in the back 1/3 of the 81 person pack by the time we got to the barriers. At that point it was just damage control and picking people off one by one. The run-up, four railroad ties in a 12% grade hill, killed me, but I slogged up it well enough to get 57 in a strong field. I wasn't lapped and I beat all my teammates, so three cheers for small victories.

Watching the pros a couple of hours later was a more humbling experience than racing against some Cat. 2s from Milwaukee hopped up on espressos. Those guys were riding over the railroad ties and accelerating up the hill rather than just struggling up as all us mortals were. Kevin Klug and Ben Popper looked good and were riding well, well, Ben was until he crashed bad in a corner.

Afterward, it was La Hacienda for eats and margaritas and then Essen Haus for drinks. I had half a beer and that was it for me. Isaiah and Kevin came up from the city to race the next day and were splitting the room with me and Helge. We were all asleep by 11:30.

The course on Sunday was changed and tweaked from its Saturday version. The chicanes after the barriers were longer, the off-camber stuff a little easier. Plus, the course had some time to dry out so those tricky bits were less so. The run-up was now a ride-up, provided you could negotiate a hairpin corner and accelerate from 1 mph on a 12% grade without swerving into the course markers or other riders.

My start Sunday was much better in the field of 91 riders. We all rocketed into the first corners and I was holding on much better. I think I'm a good second-day rider -- I felt so good after racing Chequamegon that I'm more inclined to think that I'm always better for the second shot. I was hitting the barriers better and I was able to ride the hill every time, except when I stalled out after getting stuck behind the editor for Velo News, who was my rabbit for most of the race. Lots of Team Pegasus helped me up the hill with their screams and pushes and for that I give thanks.

I got 47th and again, beat all my teammates.

ChiCrossCup #1: Jackson Park

2009-09-28T18:38:00.000-07:00

I got 28th in the 3s at the first race of the ChiCrossCup at Jackson Park. I think.

Chequamegon 40: Hayward, WI to Cable, WI

2009-09-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

I registered for the Chequamegon 40 mountain bike race back in March only after my teammates convinced me by saying that it was a road race on dirt. Lots of double-track, sand, and few technical bits. I like riding off-road, but big rocks freak me out a little, and my technical abilities are extant to that needed for cyclocross, so of course, I was game. Plus, I love endurance events. Racing's a lot more fun if you're on the bike for more than two hours, except 'cross when anything more than an hour is an eternity.

A pretty decent result at the Palos Meltdown in August gave me the sneaking suspicion that I could have a decent result at the race. I was right.

I took Friday off from work and drove with Al and Chris in Al's X5, laden with hot mountain bikes. German luxury's great for driving to races, unlike the sad Toyota Avalon that I share with Allison that has 215K on the clock and chain grease stains all over the backseat. At least I fit the stereotype of the poor bike racer. The drive to Hayward, Wisconsin is a long one -- and after stopping for Subway and gas twice, we made it into town by about 4 a.m. We saw the Four Jesuses on the way in toward our cabin, who blessed us, as only he could.

Once we got ourselves to the cabin, the three of us kitted-up and got out to ride easy to the registration at the Telemark lodge in Cable to stretch the legs some after sitting all day. We rode the 6 of 7 miles before we had to turn around because Al remembered he left his ID at the house. We rode back to the house and got into the car, drove to the lodge, and then ran into a near-hysterical Julie. Seems she was trying to call us all day and since we had iPhones, with intermittent service in the north woods, she couldn't get any of us on the horn. So she went out driving, saw us riding, but then lost us. By the time we got to her she'd spent some serious time in the bar, talking to the keep about bear attacks.

After we registered, we formally initiated Team Pizza aka Team Hot & Ready. At dinner, I burned the garlic bread and we all ate like some strange, smelly family.

The next day, we were all up by 6 a.m. to prepare and at 7:30 we were rolling into Hayward. Already at this point the starting grids were mostly filled, so we all set ourselves up together and hung out until race time at 10 a.m. We got coffee, chilled out and tried to strategize -- Al, Chris and I, all being of reasonably equivalent fitness and talent (where I may have some speed, Al and Chris are better bike handlers), decided that we'd stick together as long as we could. And surprisingly enough, this actually worked.

The start of the race was a huge three mile rollout on Hayward's streets toward an open grassy meadow that served as the official start of the race. From that point, I was pushing hard and flying by huge numbers of riders. I told myself to hold back some, but since I expected to finish the race under three hours, I could put in some solid efforts here without problem. Al and Chris found me and we started pacing off each other on the hills and forming pacelines on the flat fireroads.

At about the 20 mile point, we all were in a solid five rider paceline and I made an attack on a hill. No one came with me so, well, that was that. I got trucking on the descents and made up good time on the climbs. I had to walk the Tower climb due to heavy traffic -- and I ended up running the hill faster than I probably could've ridden it. The last five miles, I was battling hard with a couple of Flatlandia guys, whom I think I dropped, but I was outsprinted at the line by some feller I can't place.

Lots of the race was an absolute blur -- the speed and intensity was high enough that I could only look ahead and nowhere else. Chris said it was the hardest ride he's ever done -- I agreed with him. Afterward, I felt drained and empty. And I can't wiat to do it next year.

I finished in 2:44, 41st in my age group. 480 out of 1500-something. I can live with that. And covered in grit and dirt.

Tough Award: Teammate Jeremiah Smith separated his collarbone in a crash with 15 miles to go, tied his arm up with a tube, and rode himself to the finish. You think you're tough? You aren't.

After the race Al and I drove back to the seven hours to Chicago so we could race Jackson Park cyclocross the next day. Talk about tired -- I walked in the door at 11:00 p.m. and was asleep on the couch at 11:07.

Proposed Interstate Bike Map

2009-09-23T07:07:00.001-07:00

Via Urbanophile:

Richard Layman pointed us at this cool map of a proposed national bicycle route system.

You might think cross-country biking is crazy, but keep in mind this was put out by the Adventure Cycling Association.

Naturally, I'm a huge fan of this idea as concept. In execution, I'm sure lots will be lost to the difficulties of securing rights-of-way, community resistance, and budget issues. Nonetheless, if even 25% of this comes to fruition, it would be a godsend.

A goal for me this year was to ride from Chicago to Cincinnati, a 320 mile trip spread out over two days. It didn't happen and probably won't with racing, weddings, and other events going on every weekend between now and New Year's. Next spring it probably will, owing to my resurgent interest in endurance riding and all things epic. Who knows? Maybe I'll find myself doing some lengthy riding in December or the end of November before it gets truly cold. I just know it'd be nice to have a dedicated bike route to ride on.

Other notes:

Last weekend was a wild one -- I raced MTB in Hayward, WI on Saturday and CX in Jackson Park on Sunday. Still working on my race report, sadly, as work's taking precedence.

This weekend is the Sun Prairie USGP. I'm going up with Helge and Mike on Friday night and staying for the weekend.

Next weekend is DeKalb. Eek.

Illinois State Road Race

2009-09-13T19:35:00.000-07:00

Well, this didn't go as planned.

I went into the race hoping for top 10 and with my skin intact. I came out of it without a scratch but near the bottom of the results. Kudos first to Tower Racing who put on a well-run road race in an improbably-close-to-Chicago location.

In the weeks leading up to yesterday, I was surprised at how the race wasn't packed full to the gills from the moment registration opened. Out of a possible field size of 100, there were only 50 or so in the 4s. I'm not complaining about the field size, because I'd rather deal with a smaller pack than a huge mess, but it was interesting.

I have no moments of glory to speak of yesterday. No breakaway attempts, no contention for the sprint -- I was just hanging out going for an easy $38.50 group ride with some friends and lots of people I don't know.

I felt good leading up to the race -- had lots of sleep, the legs had snap, and I was feeling better than usual. Chris asked me what I was thinking strategy-wise, and all I said was "Well, we'll see what happens."

Which for me, apparently, wasn't much.

I Spent four laps stuck in the middle of the pack trying to get up front and couldn't make it happen. The pack filled the road and I couldn't get forward from either side of the group. Each three corners of the course, I tried to move up as the pack spread out, but nope, I ended up back where I was before, usually right by Adrian and Isaiah and a xXx guy. The "hill" had no effect on the peloton -- it was a sprint up the hill each time and everyone glommed back on in the nice descent off from the finish.

There was a stupid crash going up the climb in the third lap when some guy started weaving between the cones that marked off the lane, knocked one over, and another racer hit the cone and highsided onto his shoulder. Other than that, people raced really safe and the pack wasn't all that aggressive.

The last time up around the course, things were really mellow until we got to the staging area about 1/2 mile from the start of the climb. I got myself into a decent position behind the Cuttin' Crew train and started the hill trying to get through the traffic. Then, of course, the awful sound of bicycles hitting the ground I could hear up ahead. Completely boxed in, I was headed toward the Cuttin' Crew rider and his bike sprawled out on the pavement, so all I could do was stop. Yes, stop on the climb in the final sprint of the race.

I helped one of the racers off the ground and rode back uphill. I was angry for about 10 minutes and annoyed for another 20. I guess I can take consolation in the fact that some of my teammates did really well in the race and that I didn't end up on the ground, too.

Lots of friends on other teams did really well. Jeff Perkins of Cuttin' Crew, whose butt I was staring at for most of the fourth lap, won the race. Props.

Well...

2009-08-21T08:50:00.000-07:00

Here is the Tumblr.

I've resolved the issue that was preventing me from logging into Blogger. Well, found a workaround. Seems as if I need to post a comment to someone's blog which signs me in without having to sign in through the Blogger login screen.

I still prefer the look of Signals, Calls and Marches, but it's frustrating when you have stuff to post up and you can't do it without getting an error message when trying to log in. I just want to scream out the world the details of my inane life. If I can't, then what's the point of this silly existence?

Notes:

See the Tumblr blog for the details of my trip to San Francisco. It was awesome.

The Super Tempo is coming back and coming back swinging. This is going to be exciting.

I still love running as much as cycling, but I find bikes more interesting than running shoes. What do runners geek out on?

I've recently moved to the corner of Winnemac and Damen, across from Winnemac Park. This means I have access to a pool. I also have access to a running track.

I still miss Rogers Park. I was up there a few days ago and it all feels so right. The new home still feels alien and cold.

Too much of my money has gone into my bikes lately. This makes me depressed but also makes me happy.

WTF.

2009-08-03T13:58:00.000-07:00

I'm not dead, but Blogger's been ridiculously wonky on my home computers. It's probably something to do with the cache, but I really haven't had the impetus to track it down. Either way, I've written a number of entries but I'm not going to load them here.

I'm probably going to migrate all my stuff to TypePad at some point tomorrow or next week after I get back from my trip to SF to visit Naz and Jen and my aunt and uncle.

Projects

2009-07-06T04:49:00.000-07:00

My excuses:

Work's been exceedingly busy.
Traveling lots.
I've been riding a lot.
I've been writing in other places.

Naz and I started up The Super Tempo, a cycling blog more concerned with ruminating about the mindset and aesthete of the sport. So far it's off to a good start -- and hopefully the project expands over time. I have lots to add over the next week or so, keep an eye out.

In Ohio right now, and I've been here since Thursday. Got to spend some quality time with the grandparents in Barlow and went for a quality ride with Katsu and John Lefelhocz of Cycle Path (and current Ohio Master's Crit, Tandem and Road champion). Spent lots of time solo in the farmland and rural-ish areas of Cincinnati. About to go and do a hill repeats ride on actual hills.

Back in Chicago sometime this afternoon -- don't wanna go.

Spring Prairie

2009-06-11T14:10:00.000-07:00

Four days after the race and I'm now just talking about it. I already missed inclusion on CBR's write-up of the race, and now my memory of the whole affair is a rather fond one.

For all sorts of reasons mostly due to injury and surgery, I haven't raced road as much as I wanted to this year. I was registered for Hillsboro, but I could hardly walk, let alone ride my bike. I was planning on doing Snake Alley, but plum forgot. Now spring is over and I've raced four times, counting Spring Prairie, the Wisconsin State Road Championships, that I raced this past Sunday.

It's no secret of mine that I love riding and racing hills, even if I don't do as well on them as I'd like. I started my amateur racing career racing hills and it's what I prefer. Flatland freaks me out -- I like some terrain to string things out and shatter the field than hurtle toward a bunch sprint surrounded by 50 Cat. 4s. I may be turning out Cat. 3 power, but I don't have results or talent yet for upgrading.

Adrian got me all psyched-up for Spring Prairie, though. Lots of climbing on a 10-15% grade, albeit short, with lots of rollers. Count me in. Even if I bagged out, at least I'd do so safely and practice my climbing and descending (going 8 mph uphill and 45 mph downhill is difficult in each its own way). Race day, it was me, Adrian, Isaiah, Sean Fitzgerald and his girl Jessica, who I rode up with. All of us got to the registration at the same time, and I was reminded again that I need to print out or find my 2009 USAC license before next race I enter.

We all got suited up and went and did a reverse lap of the course to see what it was all about. Yeah, it was bumpy, alright. Ate some food, spun around and tried not to get hit by a car, and lined up in the field for the neutral roll out.

At the top of the big climb, the race was on and at a hard pace. I was pushing big numbers in the draft, with a tailwind. These 4/5 riders love to start stampeding, I guess. Two laps in, I fell off a little in the back stretch on one of the rollers, cramping up something terrible. I rolled back on on the descent and stretched my legs out while safely in the draft. Starting back up the climb again I popped, my calves just killing me.

And there I was, by myself, some people, nay lots of people behind me, but the pack, where I really wanted to be, was going up the road faster than I could muster. So I just pedaled as hard as I could and was joined by a WDT rider named Reed who worked with me. We were by ourselves for a bit until we caught up to Sean and a TATI rider who got popped off the back, too. Our little foursome worked well together, riding hard, but not killing each other with the gentleman's agreement to keep it tempo until the last trip up the sharp climb, of which there was seven.

Up the hill, Sean and I attacked hard at the bottom and he pulled away to finish about 3-4 bike lengths ahead of me. Reed and the TATI guy were rolling up at their own pace, just content to have finished. Isaiah and Adrian informed me that we finished maybe 2-3 minutes off the pack, not where I wanted to be, but not horrible considering that the race was a peak race for many riders.

Since the race started at about 5:15, it was already about 8 when we finished packing up and got ready to leave. We stopped at Culvers on the way out and I enjoyed a chicken sandwich, fried cheese curds, and a milkshake. Gotta replenish those calories with delicious, artery-cloggin' food.

End result? 25th or something out of 50 something. Eh.

Why I Ride

2009-06-10T09:15:00.000-07:00

Why I ride: from here.

Nightbucks

2009-06-08T09:51:00.001-07:00

From here.

Crushed Gravel

2009-06-04T08:15:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Luke and crew for the awesome photos.

It's funny that I've not ridden over 100 miles in over four years, not since I rode to Dayton, Ohio from Cincinnati in 2004 shortly after I got into cycling as sport. I've come close dozens of times, 89 miles, 96 miles, 97 miles, but never edged over the straight 100 mark. Time was the only reason why, because I've always carried good enough fitness to do 100+ with no problems and no preparation other than my usual training.

Scott from Team Hungry told me that I was an all-rounder when I went home last week. Maybe that means I'm kinda OK at lots of things, but not really great at anything. Makes sense, but I digress.

A while ago, drunk on Grolsch at an art opening in the West Loop with Allison I ran into Luke Batten, photographer, bike collector, and casual wearer of Rapha, and he told me something about a "Gentlemen's Race" of a century he was planning for the weekend after Memorial Day on the crushed gravel Fox River and Prairie Path trails. I was in, naturally.

Day of at 10 AM, at Luke's girlfriend's parent's place in Glen Ellyn, we congregated, slathered on chamois cream, and got ourselves ready to go. The group contained Luke, Ben Gill, Brooklyn Man, and Half Acre riders Patrick Kenny, Joe Schubert, and Isaiah Jay. Joining us for a few miles were some ladyfriends of our gruppetto, who turned off to buy Dairy Queen. At some points of the day I wish I broke off with them.

The first loop was at a moderate pace. As the group consisted of riders of varying abilities, things were kept at an even tempo. The trail traffic on the first loop was pretty bad, at least worse than I've seen out that way, which kept our speeds down a bit. We stopped at Sammy's Bikes in St. Charles for espresso and a chance to gawk at some CF Cioccs -- I may give up on steel yet.

With a KOM jersey in contention, I went after the two hills, both basically sprints up out of the Fox River valley. The first, I was impeded by strollers and caught second place; the second, a potholed Koppenbergian climb, I captured first.

One loop down at the trailhead, the girls brought along our "musette" bags, i.e. sandwiches and sodas that we'd brought with us for a picnic in the grass. Too soon, we were back on the bikes and split into two groups: HACT in one, and the artist crew in another. I felt exceedingly good and set tempo for much of the second loop, along with Isaiah. Took both KOM hills again -- the first, I outsprinted Isaiah and eased-off half way up the hill thinking he was out of gas. Turned around and saw him gaining ground, so I stepped back on it and rolled over the top with him coming up only seconds behind me. A bit closer than I like.

Coming back into Glen Ellyn, with about 15 miles to go, Isaiah and I put in a hard dig and broke off by ourselves, both working together. I still felt strong, likely due to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Hammer Perpetuem. Isaiah and I rolled off the trail and as I lacked directions back to the house, I followed closely behind (plus, I was getting kinda tired at this point). I kept asking, "Are you sure we're going the right way? Are you sure?" I'm a doubter, my apologies.

Eventually, with house in sight, I sprinted to roll into the driveway first, thought I had it in the bag, but Isaiah cut me off to roll over the curb ahead of me. I'm no sore loser and I took comfort in knowing I had the KOM jersey, whatever it would be, wrapped up nicely, tied with a bow.

The rest of our ragged crew rolled in over the next few minutes -- everyone sunburned, sore, and covered in dust and sweat crust. But the best time was about to commence: a BBQ held in our honor, prizes, and kisses from our group of four lovely podium girls.

And funny enough, I managed to set my 5s, 30s, 1minute power records on this ride in my sprints up the hill, and 107 miles, 6 and 1/2 hours of riding, and 3,800 calories later, I'm surprised I felt as good at the end as I did.

Now I can't wait for next year.

Prairie Roubaix

2009-05-28T10:11:00.001-07:00

A 104-mile gentleman's race out where they smash atoms together. 66 miles on dirt and gravel paths, the rest on pavement. A promise of some sharp climbs, and a Directer Sportif.

And I quote:

The Rules:

Race Neutral 75 miles

Attacks start when we return to the dirt section in Warrenville. No sympathy for flats, bonking or puking at this point.

Podium Prizes for the top three.
Combativity Prize for heroic futility (Patrick).
Lantern Rouge gets a round of applause.

King of the Mountain competition when we cross the Fox River and climb the FOXRIVERBERG both times.
3pts for First
2pts for Second
1pt for Third

King of MTNS Prize: Bottle Belgian Brew.

Hellyeah

2009-05-24T15:43:00.001-07:00

I've spent the past couple of days since Thursday in Cincinnati hanging out with the family, eating lots of food, sleeping, drinking, and riding. None of it is exciting other than the riding, but except to a small minority of people, even that's not very exciting.

Thursday: Just about 72 miles into Northern Kentucky. Something like 2400KJ burned and an average wattage of 205 for four hours of riding (I think) I was looking so forward to a hard Kentucky ride and I got one. Back when I first started riding road, I immediately hooked-up with the Campus Cyclery guys because, well, it was the bike shop less than a block from where I lived. It was there that I went when I needed some tool, part, or tube. Brian, the store manager, and Glenn, the owner, were nice to me at first, but as they got to know me, we struck-up a friendship that continues to this day, rooted in lots of smack-talk, naturally.

At some point, as I got fitter and started racing, I was invited to the Tuesday and Thursday evening shop rides which left from the UPS depot downtown. 40-60 mile hammer-rides into Northern Kentucky -- these rides were hard and did more to help me learn about riding well than anything I'd read in books. The original group's disbanded somewhat, but the Team Hungry guys have kept the rides going.

Thursday, I confirmed with Mike Chewning that the ride was to go on at the normal time and showed up after riding the long way from my mom's house to find Glenn and two Hungry riders. Mark Hooton, still Cincinnati's only messenger showed up, too. After working a whole day on the bike in 85+ degree heat. Off we went, we started upon the "Dairy Queen Ride" that naturally finished at a DQ in Newport. Out on Rt. 8, I settled in to a good pace, pushing on the flats. In Silver Grove, we split off from Glenn -- he wanted a flat ride and we were looking for some hurting. Up came the first of several good climbs and I just slid backward down the hill. At one point, I fancied myself a good climber, but Mark and Scott, the Hungry rider in our group of three, flew up the hill. Chicago's done a number on me, alright.

On and on we went, hitting some descents at 45+ mph, crawling up some hills at 10 mph. A medium cone of soft-serve from Dairy Queen got me home, and I was in the door at about 9:40 pm, tired and gross. Perfect.

Friday: An "easy" recovery ride, if you count sweating up a 15% grade easy. Visited Mark to pick up a new bottom bracket and then went by Campus to have it installed. My crank no longer wobbles and my bike no longer rattles with the sound of a loose BB. About time.

Saturday: Tired from a night of hanging out with my brothers, I went on one of my favorite solo rides on the west side. Bombing Thompson and Lockwood Hill, I saw speeds over 45 mph, and could've gone faster if it weren't for cars ahead of me. I was thinking of doing the Cleves TT loop for an extra 10 or 20 miles, but I had to get myself home to visit the grandparents and eat way more curry than I should have.

Sunday: I woke up late from seeing my brother Ian's band Make It Nasty play a show, I only got out on the bike in the afternoon and ahead of what looked to be some nasty clouds. I felt better than I did Saturday and pushed harder in the little time I had. Nothing special, except a variation on the day before's route. The rain never appeared, so I botched what could have been a nice long day.

Tomorrow, back to Chicago, the LFP, and Sheridan Road. Dammit.

Spring

2009-05-13T09:33:00.000-07:00

Riding this spring has been a hit-and-miss affair. Time off from injury, time off from having my wisdom teeth extracted a week ago, and time off just cause. I'm still excited to get out there and do my thing, but when that thing is mostly done on the path that I've ridden on several hundred times since I moved to Chicago, it's all a little dull. I can't and won't complain about that any more than I just did, because we all complain about it.

I'm planning on doing Highland Park/Fort Sheridan rides during the week in addition to whatever I do on the weekend to up the volume and change things slightly. I'm not sick of the route to Fort Sheridan, at least not yet. Some terrain to change things up and the lousy pavement in some sections doesn't bother me as much as it should. My own personal Paris Roubaix.

This weekend, I was all set on Saturday to see The Vaselines and race Monsters of the Midway. That was until I remembered that Allison's parents are coming up to Chicago for Allison's graduation. Whoops. Maybe I can get away for a quick sprint up to Kenilworth the morning of, but the last time I did that when they were in town, I ended up in the hospital with a broken wrist.

All I want to do nowadays are time-trials, centuries, hill climbs, and cyclocross. I wonder if I'm boring.

Rules and observations

2009-04-28T14:33:00.000-07:00

1. Drinking out of normal water bottles sucks except when on the bike. I don't like the taste of plastic.

2. A 20 cent PB&J is the exact same, nutritionally, as a $2.50 energy bar.

3. Don't spit, snort, or drink when at the front of a paceline, no matter how small.

4. If you can't ride no-handed, chances are you probably can't take your jacket off without getting off the bike. Don't try, or at least, be behind me when you do.

5. Racing kinda sucks.

6. Going fast is great, but getting fast sucks.

7. Most cyclists don't know how great running is.

8. Aerobars.

...

2009-04-24T14:47:00.000-07:00

Out this morning for an interval session at 6:50 AM of 6x6@a-pace-good-enough-to-sting and I started to feel good. The humid air left me dripping after the first of 'em, but with each hard effort, the two minutes of recovery between left me aching to go at it again. Well, until the last, but that's because I was running out of time before I had to be at work, ready to start the day.

Today's prediction of 80 degrees is darn near spot-on. Lunch in Millennium Park was toasty in my dress clothes -- can't wait 'til I can wear shorts every moment that I'm off the clock.

Tomorrow's calling for a thunderstorm or two. I'm planning on 60-80 miles up north with the crew to sweat some, have some fun, and urge on the coming of summer.

Celebrity Lifestyle

2009-04-20T08:13:00.001-07:00

Joe and I were out on Friday morning before work, just getting an easy spin in with some jumps, and moving the legs. The Chicago Tribune took a photo of us and included our picture in a photo gallery, just because having good lookin' dudes in lycra on your website helps draw web traffic It feels good, no great, to be back riding again without fear of messing myself up. I have lost some fitness -- my heart rate spikes to about 95% of max where before it would stay steady. I figure the three weeks I wasn't training will necessitate some serious work to recover. I re-start my intervals this week in hope of getting a few more road races in before focusing on time-trialing and building for 'cross.

Saturday, I got out with a huge crew to ride my recently-acquired Bontrager OR Race mountain bike in the Palos Forest Preserve. 2.5 hours of hard riding following some real hot-shots, and I was spattered in mud, exhausted, and bloodied. Now I know why MTB racers are so durn fast when they race road -- riding MTB is unbelievably hard and a hard workout. Your upper body takes a beating coincident with the legs. I'm hooked on getting dirty, is all I'm saying at this point.

Wasting

2009-04-09T12:40:00.000-07:00

I haven't ridden outside in little over a week and a half, and the only training I've done has been about four 1/2 hour trainer sessions at 100 watts. I ended up tearing muscle fibers in my left quadricep somehow from my accident and I've been laid low.

I've taken the time to get well-acquainted with working on strengthening my core, back and arms. Y'know, the parts that don't exactly propel a bike but make a big difference in the ability to do it well. My personal favorite activity? Plank exercises. Those hurt; they hurt in a good way. I miss feeling the springy tiredness from a good morning ride, but these are a good substitution until I am able to pedal with any kind of force.

I might ride tomorrow to work, easy of course. If not then, maybe this weekend.

Ha.

2009-03-30T14:35:00.000-07:00

Because my leg felt decent enough, despite some serious brutality, I rode to the team races on Friday. I was planning on just working a corner and eating cake, but I decided at the last second to jump in. I couldn't bend my leg more than 45 degrees without it feeling tight, but it didn't hurt to pedal easy. My thinking was that I would jump in, see how I felt, and get my mass-finish -- 11 or 12 I need to upgrade to 3, where I'm sure I'll live out my days.

At the start, I sprinted off the line as if I were in a CX race and after the first lap as a leader, I settled in to the front of the pack. The legs felt decent and I was putting in good power into the wind. Third lap in, some riders touched wheels in the back and someone went down -- I pulled off to see if it was one of my guys and I moved to the back of the group, which is right at the same time that the front riders, all of which were killing the races earlier in the week, took off to form the break that would finish the race. The pack was smaller because most riders were scheduled to do the Burnham Supercrit the next day in Beloit.

I spent the rest of the time riding hard and easy with teammates and friends contesting sprints and working on my cornering. Afterward, we all indulged in some major sweetness and Amy gave me a lift home because Allison hadn't yet returned from Cincinnati. Once home, my left leg started stiffening up and I knew I'd made something of a mistake. I was registered to race the Burnham race in the 3/4 and all I wanted to do was survive, which if I wanted to do, I wouldn't have raced hard the night before.

Saturday morning, I could barely walk. I did some stretches and walked around in the apartment for a bit before Chris came over to pick me, Joe and Adam up. I was half-thinking I'd skip racing and spin easy on the trainer, but at race time, I was up in the front of the line. I spent a long time warming up in the cold and wind, so by the time I had to race with some heart, I had some heat in my legs.

The first two laps were easy -- one rider went off the front and no one chased him down, letting him dangle out there to tire out. At the start of the third lap, I went off on a flyer with another racer and after he dropped back after 1/2 a lap, I was out there by myself, hurting myself and looking brave and foolish. Joe tried to bring me back in, but I was too spent and cramped-up to do anything so we creeped back in to the car and loaded up for home. Sorry about that.

Yesterday, I felt like trash. Any recovery I'd made since I'd hurt myself was lost in racing two days. I got on the trainer and spun for 1/2 hour and then went to the Lincoln Park Conservatory with Allison, walking all over the park and the Nature Museum for most of the afternoon.

Before I went to bed last night, I took some ibuprofen to try to relieve any swelling or pain. This morning, the leg was hurting even worse. I'm registered for Hillsboro-Roubaix this weekend and if things don't improve, I ain't going. Seeing as how I dropped $30+ on that race, let's hope they do.

Turnstiles

2009-03-26T13:17:00.000-07:00

The plan was that I'd work my team's races Monday and Tuesday, race Wednesday and Thursday and take Friday easy in preparation for the Burnham Supercrit.

Thanks to my impatience at the Loyola Red Line station, those plans have been thrown around a bit. On Tuesday, I decided to take the train to work because I was tired from a hard weekend of riding. As I was walking in the alleyway from my apartment to the El station, I heard the announcement saying, "Attention customers: an inbound train, toward the Loop, will be arriving shortly." I hate waiting for trains. I like sitting in my seat, facing the back of the train so that I can read my NYT and ponder my existence while heading in to work.

That's all I wanted Tuesday, but what I got was a whole bunch of pain.

Since I could hear the announcement, that meant that a train had just left the Morse station and would be closing in on Loyola in seconds. So I started running. I entered into the station, headed to the last turnstile because the others were full with people, took my wallet out, hit it against the pad (Chicago Card with the chip, natch), heard the beep, and kicked against the turnstile with my left leg. Hard.

Can you see where this is going?

The beep I heard was not my beep, but someone else's. My turnstile was immovable because the card hadn't registered with the meter, and basically I slammed into a 3" stainless steel bar with just about as much force as I could muster. Because I was in a hurry, see? It felt as if my left thigh had just been hit with a baseball bat, which in a way, it was. It hurt, bad.

I got through though after re-running my card and ran up the stairs and got on the train. At least that went well. Got downtown and my leg was already stiffening up so I walked around for a bit and went inside, got my coffee, and got to work for a bit.

About an hour later, I got up to get some water and my leg just about buckled underneath me. I remember thinking, "That ain't right." Took some ibuprofen, got a bag of ice and sat back down.

I'm going to skip ahead a bit to about 6:00 PM.

6:00 PM, I'm hobbling around like my leg is broken, my thigh is throbbing and painful to the touch, and if I lean backward, the pain in the quad nearly buckles me. I nonetheless keep on hobbling because there's a race to run, 2 of 5. People both feel sorry for me and laugh at me when I tell them the circumstances of my crippling. Dan threatens to kick me in the leg and I just about cry.

After the race, Vince gives me, Joe and Jenn rides home, and it takes me a good thirty seconds to get into his car because I can't bend my leg. The climb up into my apartment is no better -- I stomp up one-legged, balanced over the banister.

Yesterday, I woke up and it was a little better, today, even more so. I haven't been on the bike since Monday and likely I won't be able to ride until tomorrow, or more likely, Saturday. Saturday's the day of the race in Beloit and I'm doing the 3/4. It's tough hanging onto the crowd when feeling good -- feeling like Pete Rose (bless his heart) has clobbered your quad with a Louisville Slugger is another matter entirely. Gotta say, though, I'll race with heart and soul (if'n I do.)

Week's End

2009-03-20T07:29:00.000-07:00

A week back from Georgia and I've had way too much going on and only some of it good.

The roof and bedroom walls of my apartment have decided to spring a leak and now the wall in our bedroom and the bedroom closet is buckled in, weeping gypsum from water contamination, and is in need of serious repair. This happened before in September because of the rain Chicago received from the remnants of Hurricane Ike, but all the landlord did was patch and paint the wall without actually fixing the root cause of the problem, that being a hole somewhere outside that lets rainwater in whenever it rains a lot.

Infuriating, especially when all of your clothes and your girlfriend's clothes are in baskets all over the apartment because the closet is unusable. Pictures have been taken and the landlords have been contacted -- let's see if something positive comes of this.

Training's been a positive thing this week. Commuting felt great, hard intensities felt better, and I'm taking the day off the bike today to save my juice for a long jaunt to Calumet Park to scope out things for our races next week.

CHI-GA->GA-CHI

2009-03-16T14:06:00.000-07:00

690 miles.

That’s how far of a distance it is from the very center of Chicago to Blairsville, Georgia. That’s a big chunk of distance and that’s the distance that a group of 10 members of Half Acre Cycling traversed in order to spend four days and some odd hours training in the mountains of beautiful, bucolic, friendly northern Georgia.

But first we had to get there. Last Tuesday at 7 pm, Half Acre Cycling gathered on the Chicago lakefront to load up cars with bikes and bags in the pouring rain. This rain seemed to follow us like a curse, or a stink, as we drove down in a caravan on I-65 south through Indiana. Cars aerodynamically burdened with bikes on their roofs swayed in the 50 mph crosswind, raindrops washing away bearing grease and chain oil. The going was slow — by 1 am we had all adjourned to a Flying J/Arby’s, where Chris treated all to some jalapeno poppers, and Dan wasted money on a sad excuse of a horse racing arcade game.

Shortly after, we all got back on the road and eventually the skies cleared up enough that driving was no longer a white-knuckled affair. Too bad this was at about 3 in the morning, when most other sensible people are slumbering in warm beds. Half Acre had hills to ride and fueled by Spike Shooters and bad truckstop food, it was a marathon cruise toward the south. In the Ford Focus driven by Chris, and accompanied by Dan, Joe and Zach, disaster was averted by a quick stop at a gas station in Lexington, KY to check out a mysterious vibration coming from the rear of the car. Seems as if the lugnuts on both rear wheels were loose and only miles from falling off, with the wheels likely to follow.

The other members of our convoy, Helge’s Forester with Mia, Soupy and Kevin, and the Scion captained by Jeremiah and skippered by Adrian, had much better luck than us. For all of us in the Focus, though, we made a diversion to Deal’s Gap, otherwise known as The Tail of the Dragon, where we tested the limits of adhesion and our stomachs on the 318 turns in 11 miles of that strip of pavement. This post ain’t about driving cars fast, however.

We all eventually rendezvoused at Waffle House in Blairsville at about 11 am on Wednesday. A short drive to the rental office and to the house, tucked on the side of the hill in a gated community, and we were finally able to relax and stretch. Of course, an easy ride came first, just a short cruise to ease out the aches of travel, and for many of the Half Acre riders, this was their first time plying their bikes on anything resembling a hill. Adrian managed to break a chain during a badly-timed downshift from his large to small chainring and Helge was chased by a dog.

Dinner that night was spaghetti, as it was every night, thanks to the foresight and generosity of Jeremiah, who had brought along 10 pounds of the stuff to Georgia. ‘Course, we had Helge to help make the stuff taste good. Beers were guzzled, and ice cream devoured. Mostly everyone was in bed by 10, because we had mountain climbing to take care of for Thursday.

Shepherded by Soupy, who’d ridden these hills a year earlier, we selected a 40 mile loop that would have us climb three gaps, Wolfpen, Stone Pile, and finally, Blood Mountain. After a group warm up, Joe launched an attack on the first climb of the day and was the first to top Wolfpen, followed shortly by me, Adrian, Kevin and Mia. We all waited at the top, took some pictures, and then bombed the descent to Suches. While Joe is a climbing ace, Soupy is a descending monster and would often pass me without pedaling on the steepest of pitches. At the bottom, we hit the rolling terrain hard and at the top of Stone Pile, I was able to outsprint Joe for KOM points as we crested the top.

The view at Stone Pile was amazing — and being that it was at the intersection of the Appalachian Trail, we were able to talk with some hikers who were starting or were finishing their trek across the trail while we regrouped for the descent. The descent off Stone Pile was one of the most amazing experiences any of us have ever experienced on the bike. Smooth, perfect pavement, wide turns, nearly every turn could be taken at 45 MPH without touching the brakes. All one needed to get down quickly was guts, experience, or both.

The final climb up Blood Mountain was a brutal one. A long slog at grades from 5-8% that sucked the life out of one’s limbs, all one could do on this slope was look down at the handlebars (or the ridiculously low number in the display of one’s computer or PowerTap), and hope that it would all end sooner rather than later. Some of us tangled and battled on the way up the mountain with a rider from the Jamaican National Team and a few Cat. 1s who were kind enough to not annihilate us 3/4/5 riders, but for most of Half Acre, it was a solo effort. At the top, Chris weighed his bike on a scale as old as its operator and Kevin chugged some Gatorade.

Course, the descent back down to the cars made it all worthwhile. Exhilarating. That afternoon, a small group of us went for a “recovery” ride to even out the mileage to an honest 50 for the day, but hardly was it easy, nor did it help us recover. Something about all those 10% pitches on the way out of the neighborhood helped dispell the notion of any ride being an easy one in northern Georgia. That night, a carload went to North Carolina to buy beer because our town was a dry one. Next year we’ll go wet, for sure.

Friday, we hooked-up with a group of three Canadians we’d befriended at the Waffle House on Wednesday, and they took us on a 55 miler all over the area, the route of which I cannot remember. The rain we’d escaped two days earlier had finally made it to us 10 minutes after we’d set out the door, and by the end of the ride, we were all covered in grit, dirt, and worm guts. The Canadians were all strong riders and made all of us hurt some — a good thing for a training camp. The climbs were shorter, steeper, and punchier. Mia was crushing the guys, and that day was the one she earned the moniker “Rocketship.” With any luck, she’ll be a serious contender in the women’s fields this year on her amazing, beautiful Eddy Merckx.

Friday night, we gorged again on excellent cooking, washed our bikes, and fought over who got to read the issues of Vanity Fair, Maximum Rock ‘n Roll, and Cog Magazine that were lying about. And much like both days before, we all passed out from exhaustion by about 11 pm. I promise we can party when we want to.

Saturday morning, the drizzle had turned into rain, but for me, Adrian, Jeremiah, Kevin, Mia and Soupy, it was a fine day for a bike ride. We’d set out on an out-and-back to the humorously-and-mysteriously named municipality of Deep Hole. We never made it that far, because the rain turned torrential and our feet and hands numb and cold. No matter, because while we were out riding and getting tough, the rest of our team was eating BBQ and visiting sad, depressing flea markets.

Saturday night, Chris drove Jeremiah, Mia, Soupy and myself to the top of Brasstown Bald, which we were unable to ride because of the weather. Certainly, driving up a mountain is a poor substitution for a bike ride, but it had to do. The view from the top was of nothing but grey, as the peak was ensconsed in a drizzly, mopey cloud. We all then drove on to Helen, where we bought more booze and Tostito’s Lime chips and I made another annoying joke referencing The Kids in the Hall skit, “30 Helens agree…”

That night, cold water was poured on Adrian, Helge, Mia and Kevin while they were in the hot tub, and Dan fell down the stairs of the house. Surprisingly, he wasn’t hurt — a first perhaps.

Yesterday, we were up before the sunrise to pack the cars and clean the house before heading the way we came to Flatlandia. A reminder to all: never visit the Casa Festiva somewhere in southern Kentucky. Our team almost broke apart over plates of heavily-salted refried beans and mediocre salsa. Taco Bell would’ve kept everyone happy and contented, well, except maybe Helge and Kevin.

Home by 7:45pm, we all slept in our own beds, comfortable and with sore legs earned from serious, heavy climbing. No crashes, no injuries other than nagging knees, the 2009 Half Acre Training Camp was a resounding success.

Georgia

2009-03-10T09:39:00.000-07:00

Tonight, at about 7, a whole crew from the team is making the red-eye drive south to Georgia for about four days of riding in the hills, hollers and mountains of that corner of Dixie. I'm most interested in conquering Brasstown Bald, but any other peak will do.

The weather looks fairly lousy, but so long as it's not pouring, me and everyone else will be out riding.

Driving down will be something of an adventure. I'm riding in a car with Chris, Dan and Joe, and only Chris and I can drive a manual transmission. So unless we give Dan and Joe something of a crash course, it'll be me and Chris to drive the 12 hours total. Good thing Dan's planned a soundtrack of gabber and hardcore techno to keep us going.

Since I won't have much access to the Internet, please check my Twitter for occasional 140-word dispatches from Georgia. I'll be sure to let ya'll know if I get anything good to eat at Waffle House.

...

2009-02-27T13:01:00.000-08:00

A long, rough week is now coming to an end. Two hours of work left, a few things to do to help pass the time, and then I'm out to enjoy a dinner with Joe, Jenn and Allison at Ethiopian Diamond. Three days this week, I had to be downtown at 7:15 for work-related meetings and conferences, and I managed to ride into work two of those days, opting to take the train yesterday because of the insane rainstorm predicted (and accurately at that.)

My nights are still insane -- get home late from a training ride or hop on the trainer immediately after walking in the door, shower, eat, and then work on the thesis. I went out Tuesday night with Jen and Naz for dinner at Spacca Napoli and ice cream at Margie's and the huge wad of dairy, dough and clams in my stomach gave me fits all night long. It was worth it, though. Not much a NOLA-ian, never been there, but I sure sinned on Fat Tuesday.

I worked it all off with 1:30 on Tuesday, 2:30 on Wednesday, and 1:00 last night, setting personal wattage records for my 5 minute and 10 minute power on Tuesday and Wednesday respectively. I guess that's good. Hopefully, I can keep things up through the spring road races and back off for summer before building back up for fall cyclocross.

Also trying to knock out a few features for the Gapers Block column. Anyone know anyone cool who rides a bike?

Escaping

2009-02-23T07:13:00.000-08:00

Because it was my brother's birthday last week, or maybe because they predicted goodly amounts of snow over the weekend, I drove back to Cincinnati on Friday after work for a short 36 hours in my hometown to do some laundry, eat burritos at the Comet, and stumble around with my brother at the Northside Tavern. Mission accomplished in all regards. I also picked up the Volcano Suns All Night Lotus Party, just reissued on Merge.

I also brought my bike down, hoping to do some long road riding. I had a free morning Saturday, but it was sleeting at the time I could go out, so on the trainer I rode, listening to David Bowie's Scary Monsters and The Chargers Street Gang. Sunday was the same story, but I had no time, so a half hour was all I got. I guess I should've woken up a bit earlier. No matter though, it was a hard half hour.

After brunch at my grandparents', I was back on the road, headed back to Chicago and wishing it was warm. Only a matter of weeks now.

Small things

2009-02-13T07:17:00.000-08:00

Because the weather hasn't been overwhelmingly lousy, I've been able to commute most days this week to work. Which is nice, because I can get my training in in the morning, shower at the bike garage, and walk into work nice and tired, instead of jittery and wired.

What isn't so nice is doing intervals and sprints with my big Chrome Sultan bag on my back. The backpack fits great, holds all my stuff, but with everything I need in it, it's just heavy. I don't know if it'll make me faster having this thing hanging off of me while I try to break Joe in an interval, but I figure I'm at least working my core while on the bike a little.

Tonight, Allison has an art opening at the Vespine Gallery in Pilsen. Rumor has it that we're going to get tots at Skylark afterward; rumor has it that I still need to buy her a Valentine's Day gift.

Whoops.

Thanks, Blogger

2009-02-10T07:53:00.000-08:00

So I can't post to here from home, using Safari or Firefox, as I get an error message that I can't track down. Maybe purge the cache? I shouldn't be blogging from work as I'm doing now, but I hate not updating for 10 days.

I dunno, maybe it's just time to move and migrate this thing to the domain I bought back in December: www.zachthomas.org.

37

2009-01-30T21:21:00.000-08:00

They're predicting highs of 35-37 degrees for both tomorrow and Sunday.

The plan is 50-60 miles each day, easy tempo with some sprints thrown in -- let's say six hours for the weekend, capping off five hours so far during the week.

I'm doing alright. I don't hate the bike yet, and I'm feeling good. I might have to go in for a minor medical procedure next week, so I'll have some involuntary time off, but at this time of the year, what's the bother?

I have nearly all the parts to put Le Ramrod back together. Maybe this week I'll find the time to do so, if I can find the time to work on my thesis, too.

It's tough being busy all the time, but it's better than being bored.

Thanks, Eddy

2009-01-19T17:48:00.000-08:00

Doing two hours on the trainer goes much better with A Sunday in Hell on the TV. Joe let me borrow his copy and while today was nice enough outside to do a good ride, I just didn't feel like it. Funny that the trainer now is a perfectly acceptable way of spinning the legs. Mid-February, my guess is that I'll do anything to ride outside.

I'm also bummed out – seems as if 2009 won't find Schabobele being run. In 2005, it was the first race I'd ever entered. I dropped out halfway into the race because I'd gotten spit off the back and Allison was waiting for me to finish, but I was hooked. The next week, I entered and won the Mentor-Mentor road race with a two mile breakaway. The guy who got me into racing, James Huff, doesn't race or even ride much any more, but I still remember fondly the training rides by Fernald. I'm bummed, too, because I'm awfully proud of my Ohio roots and I want to drag some of the Half Acre Cycling crew to ride my favorite hills and pitches, get some mid-ride Graeters and eat my parents' food. Soon, maybe that weekend, even.

Cold

2009-01-16T14:18:00.001-08:00

If there's one thing that this cold business makes one appreciate, it's the warmth that will eventually come. Optimistically, that'll be two months from now; realistically, more like four.

Meanwhile, it's a struggle to get the motivation to do anything outside other than go to work. Ain't been riding the bike, though. I haven't ridden that thing outdoors in about a week and a half.

And it won't be for at least a few more days that I will, either.

At least I've got time on my hands to work on the research and cook some mean chili.