This past week three major bicycling events and resulting lessons occurred.
1) The last (of three) Snake Creek Gap race. I put on an easier gear (thanks to an 18t cog hook-up from Shanna, who now owns Endless and is on the path toward general awesomeness), bigger tires (2.2's) and ran lower pressue. This, plus rediculously nice weather, helped me take a good amount of time of my, uh, time. I never really look at results, so I don't know how much better I did, but the point anyway is that I learned that just because I ride a crappy set-up during the week, doesn't mean I shouldn't put forth the effort to put together an appropriate set-up for racing. See, I'm trying to be more professional this year. And I think that mainly means less retarded.
2) Alex's birthday party! Which was a Whiskey Crit, and post-crit havoc. The Crit went great, with such stand-by racers as Jut-Rut, Winston, Marshall, Brucey, Beth, Philly Cheese Steak, Thomas, and, of course, the Birthday Boy. I gave them the option of taking a shot of whiskey each lap or chugging a solo cup full of Kool-Aid. I accidentally told them that I made the latter with hose water, which I think detered some folks. I mean, everyone. They all went for the whiskey. But despite the relatively high alcohol consumption and the slick roads (due to a light, yet persistant, Northwest-esque rain), nobody got hurt and everyone had fun. Until a couple hours later, of course, when everyone thought it'd be a good idea to go for another, more casual ride. And of course, casual rides at this point during a party means everyone is going to sprint like hell and act rediculous. Which, of course, everyone did. Marshall busted his teeth and Alex broke his collar bone. But both boys are fine, I think, more "haha, that was dumb" that "waaah!" which is good. From this event I learned that boys are uncontrollable and so be it and I also learned that there is an "e" in whiskey. I think I always thought it was "whisky". But the bottle told me otherwise.
3)Asheville on Bikes had their little St. Patrick's Day group ride, where they showed off future greenways, and the result of all their hard-work advocacy. They also showed us a good time at a couple keystone bars in Ashevill. AOB is run my two people, I think, named Mike and Rachel, and these two people are great and I really like what they do. I told Mike this very thing, that is, that I like what he does, and he said, "Well, I like what you do, too." And I told him, "I don't really do very much." And Mike said, "Yeah, but you're intolerant." I don't really know what caused him to say this. It may have been because I took off in the middle of the ride to go do my own ride because I couldn't stand the group-lingering that much. I had spent all morning in the ER which Broken-Bone-Birthday-Boy, and couldn't handle not riding all over the place all afternoon. So that's what I did until I came back to rejoin the group and get called intolerant. I kind of liked it, though. From this event, I relearned that Asheville on Bikes is going great things and everyone should support Bike Advocacy and I also learned that as I say this, I hate the idea of being part of an advocating group, and I'd rather just tell other people to go support them, while I just ride pointlessly around town.
That's all for now. Enough lessons for one week. I kind of need the rain to stop so I can't plant my little beets and carrots and stuff and go for a clean mountain bike ride and have dry socks for the first time in a week. But whatever. It's good for holing up in the library and blahging, and for kicking it at home with my dear invalid.
Keep riding. Keep yelling at cars.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Ah, so.
Three races into the season so far: two Snake Creek Gaps and one Icycle. The latter should be pronounced just like the word icicle and not to be made to sound like I-Cycle. The word Bicycle rhymes more with icicle than I-Cycle anyway. Only people who don't ride bikes say "bi-cycle." Like today, when I went to the YWCA to become a member (hey, now...) the woman was like, "Oh, you rode your bi-cycle here. That's great." And I was like, "Heh-heh, yeah. Bi-cycles." And then I went to work out with old people.
Speaking of which, a couple boys from IF came and played these past few days, and that was pretty cool. We did neat things like riding bikes, playing cribbage, and making home fries. Harlen is officially #1 on the Cool List, which he managed by his ability to portray his unabashed awesomeness in the most over-top and understated way possible. What did that sentence mean? I have no idea...but basically, Harlen rocks my face off, and I'm very humbled, honored, etc. to be racing with and for him. We made sense of my annual training plan this weekend and created an awesome race schedule, and he inundated me with invaluable advice, which I will take to heart, and try to follow. My goals are learning how to J-Hop all pretty over big ol' logs (like, over 8 inches, heh-heh, uh...) and learning how to rest. The latter is going to suck.
Otherwise, besides bike riding and not working, I'm working on ordering seeds for our little garden plot, working on trying to find work, exciting about getting to work this Friday splitting wood for Sarah's grandparents, and I've joined the Greenman Brewery's women's soccer team. Honestly, I'm a little nervous, having not played outdoor team soccer since high school. Oh well. I lost my dignity long ago, I have no one else to fool.
Asheville on Bikes canceled their little ride around town today because of the rain, which I think is missing the point, and I had a conversation with the folks at Riverlink about bikes as reliable transportation, and how disconcerting it is that bikes don't usually count as reliable to most people. Fools. Anyway, in the spirit of my inability to rest, I'm carrying on with my individual Critical Mass ride, which could be called a Lack-of-Critical-Mass-and-the-Point-Entirely-Missed Ride, which is just me zipping around town on my townie, trying to simultaneously find inspiration and inspire. Usually I just wind up at the library to check my back account and write on this Blahg. But someday...
Anway. It's icicle. Or Icycle. No need to pronounce differently just because they spelled it with a "y" instead of an "i." But maybe I should check with Wes Dickson before I publish this. But never one to do what I should, I won't.
I got 2nd to Jamie. Like always and forever. Ah well. She's currently winning the Snake Creek series by like a million minutes. I think I'm in third now. And supposedly Willow's coming to SNC #3, which means I need to step up my game like woah.
Speaking of which, a couple boys from IF came and played these past few days, and that was pretty cool. We did neat things like riding bikes, playing cribbage, and making home fries. Harlen is officially #1 on the Cool List, which he managed by his ability to portray his unabashed awesomeness in the most over-top and understated way possible. What did that sentence mean? I have no idea...but basically, Harlen rocks my face off, and I'm very humbled, honored, etc. to be racing with and for him. We made sense of my annual training plan this weekend and created an awesome race schedule, and he inundated me with invaluable advice, which I will take to heart, and try to follow. My goals are learning how to J-Hop all pretty over big ol' logs (like, over 8 inches, heh-heh, uh...) and learning how to rest. The latter is going to suck.
Otherwise, besides bike riding and not working, I'm working on ordering seeds for our little garden plot, working on trying to find work, exciting about getting to work this Friday splitting wood for Sarah's grandparents, and I've joined the Greenman Brewery's women's soccer team. Honestly, I'm a little nervous, having not played outdoor team soccer since high school. Oh well. I lost my dignity long ago, I have no one else to fool.
Asheville on Bikes canceled their little ride around town today because of the rain, which I think is missing the point, and I had a conversation with the folks at Riverlink about bikes as reliable transportation, and how disconcerting it is that bikes don't usually count as reliable to most people. Fools. Anyway, in the spirit of my inability to rest, I'm carrying on with my individual Critical Mass ride, which could be called a Lack-of-Critical-Mass-and-the-Point-Entirely-Missed Ride, which is just me zipping around town on my townie, trying to simultaneously find inspiration and inspire. Usually I just wind up at the library to check my back account and write on this Blahg. But someday...
Don't get the message? Ah well.
Friday, January 16, 2009
A MAN A PLAN A CANAL PANAMA
That is: AMANAPLANACANALPANAMA. It's a palindrome, and one hell of a one at that. Kind of like RACECAR, only much cooler.
Anyway, I have a plan now. Sort of. That is, a training plan. Harlen is letting me in on his little secrets of advice, which is awesome, because I've got determination and dedication, but I tend to lack direction. So instead of riding myself into the ground all the time this season, I'm going to ride myself into the ground scientifically. I'm excited. And he's not really making me take rest days, just a couple days of easy spinning around town. Alex said to just ride around with a cup of coffee, so that you can't really get out of the saddle or sprint or anything, 'cause then you'd spill your coffee. That's a pretty good version of a PowerTap, I think.
A couple weeks ago was Race #1 of the 2009 season, which I tend to still write as 2008, which I think is a widespread problem. I think people generally get the hang of it around mid-February. But in the mean time, it's Jan. 16, 2008. Fuck. 2009. Right.
Snake Creek Gap, part one of a three part series. It was awesome. Held somewhere around Dalton, GA, the course was super, with lots of singletrack, and good climbs, and fun traversey sections, and a good crowd of people. I raced my singlespeed, because that's all I have right now, and despite what everyone said, a 32-17 turned out to be ok. I think it'll be even better for Part 2 and Part 3, you know...when I'm a little more in shape and such. Fatty McButterPants here, all winter-styled out. I think I got 2nd to Carrie Lowery, if that's how you spell her name, who is one of those awesome, badass, professional women that I look up to. So that's ok. The weather was in the 50's and it was all misty, so that was even better than ok, it being January and all.
I rode most of the 34 miles with Doug [I never know if it's appropriate to use peoples' last names without their permission, so I'll leave this one out. If you know him, you know him...] who is one of those awesome, badass, not professional at all men that I look up to. He usually has a wad of chew in his mouth and a bottle of wine in his hand directly following the race. He's cool. Also, all the Yazoo guys were there, and the NC version of Yazoo, the newly formed Pisgah Brew Crew, so it was pretty much a good party scene as well. Good race, good post-race...I'm already rediculously excited for the next one.
Last week there was a classic group ride out of the Fish Hatchery. I hadn't been on a group ride with kids my own age for over a month, so I was hurting for one. And this group was 75% Floridians, which means it was awesome. Dan Guiness Ennis and Chris Janaeskiwekiskzie97838kdisk and that guy who rides La Ruta six times a year, and Alexis and Nate Dog (not Dawg) and Thomas and such, and it was great. Followed by El Chapalas, and the wondering why it's El and no La Chapalas, and it turned out to be a great day. Oh group rides. So good for the soul.
Not good for the soul is temperatures below 25, which is what it is today, and what it was yesterday. Yesterday I rode Bent Creek and whined, today I townied all over the place with, like, 4 sweatshirts on, and it was fun. Tomorrow, I'm going to make people go ride Laurel with me. I'm going to go fast up it, and try to clear Pilot. Which won't happen.
In the meantime, I'm trying so hard to find a stupid job. Which is really, really hard, and really hurts the ol' ego being rejected all the time, and I really do dislike not working. I'll keep trying, and keep hoping that Obama creates some sort of neo-CCC thingy, and employs a bunch of healthy youngsters like myself to do pointless things like move big rocks from here to there. That would be sweet.
Otherwise, just waiting for spring. Three more weeks til our Homebrew is ready to drink (a Nut Brown, yum...) and a couple more weeks and we'll start some plants indoors, and then there's 12 hours of Santos mid-February, which will be like a Pseudo-Spring, and then it'll be almsot Spring here, and Landscaping places will be hiring, and daylight will last forever, and so will smiles.
Word.
A man a plan a canal. Panama.
Anyway, I have a plan now. Sort of. That is, a training plan. Harlen is letting me in on his little secrets of advice, which is awesome, because I've got determination and dedication, but I tend to lack direction. So instead of riding myself into the ground all the time this season, I'm going to ride myself into the ground scientifically. I'm excited. And he's not really making me take rest days, just a couple days of easy spinning around town. Alex said to just ride around with a cup of coffee, so that you can't really get out of the saddle or sprint or anything, 'cause then you'd spill your coffee. That's a pretty good version of a PowerTap, I think.
A couple weeks ago was Race #1 of the 2009 season, which I tend to still write as 2008, which I think is a widespread problem. I think people generally get the hang of it around mid-February. But in the mean time, it's Jan. 16, 2008. Fuck. 2009. Right.
Snake Creek Gap, part one of a three part series. It was awesome. Held somewhere around Dalton, GA, the course was super, with lots of singletrack, and good climbs, and fun traversey sections, and a good crowd of people. I raced my singlespeed, because that's all I have right now, and despite what everyone said, a 32-17 turned out to be ok. I think it'll be even better for Part 2 and Part 3, you know...when I'm a little more in shape and such. Fatty McButterPants here, all winter-styled out. I think I got 2nd to Carrie Lowery, if that's how you spell her name, who is one of those awesome, badass, professional women that I look up to. So that's ok. The weather was in the 50's and it was all misty, so that was even better than ok, it being January and all.
I rode most of the 34 miles with Doug [I never know if it's appropriate to use peoples' last names without their permission, so I'll leave this one out. If you know him, you know him...] who is one of those awesome, badass, not professional at all men that I look up to. He usually has a wad of chew in his mouth and a bottle of wine in his hand directly following the race. He's cool. Also, all the Yazoo guys were there, and the NC version of Yazoo, the newly formed Pisgah Brew Crew, so it was pretty much a good party scene as well. Good race, good post-race...I'm already rediculously excited for the next one.
Last week there was a classic group ride out of the Fish Hatchery. I hadn't been on a group ride with kids my own age for over a month, so I was hurting for one. And this group was 75% Floridians, which means it was awesome. Dan Guiness Ennis and Chris Janaeskiwekiskzie97838kdisk and that guy who rides La Ruta six times a year, and Alexis and Nate Dog (not Dawg) and Thomas and such, and it was great. Followed by El Chapalas, and the wondering why it's El and no La Chapalas, and it turned out to be a great day. Oh group rides. So good for the soul.
Not good for the soul is temperatures below 25, which is what it is today, and what it was yesterday. Yesterday I rode Bent Creek and whined, today I townied all over the place with, like, 4 sweatshirts on, and it was fun. Tomorrow, I'm going to make people go ride Laurel with me. I'm going to go fast up it, and try to clear Pilot. Which won't happen.
In the meantime, I'm trying so hard to find a stupid job. Which is really, really hard, and really hurts the ol' ego being rejected all the time, and I really do dislike not working. I'll keep trying, and keep hoping that Obama creates some sort of neo-CCC thingy, and employs a bunch of healthy youngsters like myself to do pointless things like move big rocks from here to there. That would be sweet.
Otherwise, just waiting for spring. Three more weeks til our Homebrew is ready to drink (a Nut Brown, yum...) and a couple more weeks and we'll start some plants indoors, and then there's 12 hours of Santos mid-February, which will be like a Pseudo-Spring, and then it'll be almsot Spring here, and Landscaping places will be hiring, and daylight will last forever, and so will smiles.
Word.
A man a plan a canal. Panama.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Lately I've felt the internal nagging that is the, "what I'm a doing with my life?" sort of feeling. And I honestly don't know what I have been doing, except that all of it feels pretty alright, if only it weren't for that nagging feeling, which I need to shake in order to achieve utmost contentment. Anyway, it's taken me over six weeks to get half-way through my current book, which is Sometimes a Great Notion by Ken Kesey. It's a great book, I love it, but no time to read, I've found, because I'm always doing other stuff that I can never put my finger on. You know, like not doing anything important at all. But what the hell is important? Do I feel like I'm wasting my time? Is it just because I have the vague intent of going back to graduate school someday? Is it because it's the off-season? Is it because it's winter which just seems to lend itself to the over-abundance of down-time? I'm a just restless? Yes. My bad.
Anyway, last week was the Holidaze Alleycat/Scavenger Hunt put on by the Pisgah Brew Crew (i.e. Justin and Beth) and it was quite the blast. I raced it with good ol' Phil Shaw and Kevin Booth, and I think we got third, though the scoring was all subjective and silly, so who knows what that even means. Either way, sprinting through town, across town, over and up town, out of town and back into town, all the while forgetting that traffic is still a threat and you're just racing for glory, so its not worth killing yourself over...oh but it is! So friggen fun. Go Alleycats. Asheville needs more. But in the mean time, a big thanks to the Brew Crew for putting that on, it was sweet.
Besides that, I've clocked quite a few hours, even a few with Alex, which makes my heart swell to an enormous size. Trackie Boy who can also hold his own riding street and can bunny hop, like, 4 feet, has built up quite the agressive cross country hardtail, and damn, boy can ride. Especially uphill, on a 2:1. He kills it, and then I get all embarassed, but don't admit it, and he's like, "whatever, you already ran an hour today and rode four hours yesterday." And I'm like, "yeah, that's all it is (sob, sob, sob.)" Anyway, the favor was returned, or whatever, as I built up a fixed gear. He calls it my track bike, which I think makes him proud, but it's a Trek 420 with one hell of a dented top tube and I think I paid for the chain and that's all, and calling it a "track bike" just seems too over-flattering. So I call it my townie. But I think it's my new favorite bike, of the arsenal of crud that I own. Go fixed gears. I can't track stand worth shit on it, but I'm figuring it out, slowly-but-surely. And getting bolder on the downhills, and around turns...and yes, pussy me funs a front brake. Sorry purists.
Anyway, I gave most of the parts off my singlespeed to Alex so he could build up his XC war machine, and in the process, striped down my geared race bike and turned that into a pimped-out singlespeed. So no more gears for awhile, which so far is treating me quite well. I'm running a 2:1, which has proved difficult but great on such standards as Bent Stupid Creek, Squirrel Gap, Rainbow Ridge, Kitsuma, etc. Snake Creek Gap #1 is the first race of the season, coming up a week from Saturday. Wtf!?! Right? Anyway, I'm excited. I hear a 2:1 is a bad choice for that course, but over-geared seems to work for me. I can't spin worth shit. Then a month later is the Icycle, then 12 hours of Santos, and then race season will be in full swing. Word!
Anyway, last week was the Holidaze Alleycat/Scavenger Hunt put on by the Pisgah Brew Crew (i.e. Justin and Beth) and it was quite the blast. I raced it with good ol' Phil Shaw and Kevin Booth, and I think we got third, though the scoring was all subjective and silly, so who knows what that even means. Either way, sprinting through town, across town, over and up town, out of town and back into town, all the while forgetting that traffic is still a threat and you're just racing for glory, so its not worth killing yourself over...oh but it is! So friggen fun. Go Alleycats. Asheville needs more. But in the mean time, a big thanks to the Brew Crew for putting that on, it was sweet.
Besides that, I've clocked quite a few hours, even a few with Alex, which makes my heart swell to an enormous size. Trackie Boy who can also hold his own riding street and can bunny hop, like, 4 feet, has built up quite the agressive cross country hardtail, and damn, boy can ride. Especially uphill, on a 2:1. He kills it, and then I get all embarassed, but don't admit it, and he's like, "whatever, you already ran an hour today and rode four hours yesterday." And I'm like, "yeah, that's all it is (sob, sob, sob.)" Anyway, the favor was returned, or whatever, as I built up a fixed gear. He calls it my track bike, which I think makes him proud, but it's a Trek 420 with one hell of a dented top tube and I think I paid for the chain and that's all, and calling it a "track bike" just seems too over-flattering. So I call it my townie. But I think it's my new favorite bike, of the arsenal of crud that I own. Go fixed gears. I can't track stand worth shit on it, but I'm figuring it out, slowly-but-surely. And getting bolder on the downhills, and around turns...and yes, pussy me funs a front brake. Sorry purists.
Anyway, I gave most of the parts off my singlespeed to Alex so he could build up his XC war machine, and in the process, striped down my geared race bike and turned that into a pimped-out singlespeed. So no more gears for awhile, which so far is treating me quite well. I'm running a 2:1, which has proved difficult but great on such standards as Bent Stupid Creek, Squirrel Gap, Rainbow Ridge, Kitsuma, etc. Snake Creek Gap #1 is the first race of the season, coming up a week from Saturday. Wtf!?! Right? Anyway, I'm excited. I hear a 2:1 is a bad choice for that course, but over-geared seems to work for me. I can't spin worth shit. Then a month later is the Icycle, then 12 hours of Santos, and then race season will be in full swing. Word!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Updating
In the past week and half or whatever it's been, I've:
Or something.
Don't tell Jamie I didn't take his advice. He'll be pissed. He said that's why my road bike got stolen--so I couldn't ride it. Knowing him, he's probably got it stashed at home, or he sold it to some kid at the BMX track for $125. Dang.
- Got a tatoo
- Moved into a new house
- Found and started a new job
- Learned to thoroughly enjoy my new job
- Make friends with my new co-workers who have finally found that its ok for them to make fun of me, thus more firmly solidifying the otherwise awkward friend/co-worker relationship
- Got my road bike stolen
- Hated all of humanity
- Built up a new road bike with old parts donated to me by Tavis and Alex
- Learned that some of humanity is so friggen awesome
- Learned to like my new road bike well enough even though its not my old road bike, which I loved through-and-through
- Some other stuff and stuff
Or something.
Don't tell Jamie I didn't take his advice. He'll be pissed. He said that's why my road bike got stolen--so I couldn't ride it. Knowing him, he's probably got it stashed at home, or he sold it to some kid at the BMX track for $125. Dang.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
USARA Nationals and another minor competition
This past weekend was USARA Adventure Racing Nationals, held in a little town in the Blue Ridge mountains called, creatively enough, Blue Ridge, Georgia. This was to be my swan-song of adventure racing, so I could move on to bigger and better things, by which I mean shorter and more fun races. Once upon a time I used to run marathons, and with those, I would run the first 20 miles feeling great, then the real race started after that, and I'd just try to hold myself together for the last 10k, and that was fun. The weight is in favor of fun, and even the hurting part is bearable because its taking you toward the finish line. But for some reason with adventure racing, I spend the first 20 hours hating it and wondering why I'm doing it and wanting to cry and go home, and then for the last 4-10 hours, I feel great and I love it, and I have a blast. But that doesn't even out enough for me, and so I don't really like the sport. Add to that a sea of gear-headed dorks, stupid route planning (80 miles of gravel road when you're surrounded by an area raped with awesome singletrack! WTF?!) erroneous logistics for what would otherwise be a dandy romp in the woods, and the feeling that all I am is the little girl trying to keep up with my two male teammates...and the result is me hating the sport.
But this time wasn't so bad, honestly. Of course, as usual, I hated the first 20 hours of it, and at one point around midnight, I told my teammates I was dropping out. Thankfully , they ignored me, and we eventually got a gap where a guy gave us his Subway sandwich, and the vegetarian-since-age-seven in my went "Salami! Yum, give me two!!" And five minutes later, we got to a checkpoint where a bunch of men listening to Rod Stewart ("this isn't weird, is it?" they asked) offered us a quick warm-up by the fire and some Michalob Ultra (of course...this was an adventure race afterall.) This came right before the bike-to-trek transition, so I think the mixture of fire, beer, and change of tasks helped reinvigorate me, and finally gave me the second wind I had been waiting 19 hours for.
But this time wasn't so bad, honestly. Of course, as usual, I hated the first 20 hours of it, and at one point around midnight, I told my teammates I was dropping out. Thankfully , they ignored me, and we eventually got a gap where a guy gave us his Subway sandwich, and the vegetarian-since-age-seven in my went "Salami! Yum, give me two!!" And five minutes later, we got to a checkpoint where a bunch of men listening to Rod Stewart ("this isn't weird, is it?" they asked) offered us a quick warm-up by the fire and some Michalob Ultra (of course...this was an adventure race afterall.) This came right before the bike-to-trek transition, so I think the mixture of fire, beer, and change of tasks helped reinvigorate me, and finally gave me the second wind I had been waiting 19 hours for.
The rest of the race, which lasted until about 9:30 the next morning (our finishing time was 26:20:21 or something...you know, like a day and some change.) And for the rest of the way, at least during the dark time, I kept falling asleep on my bike, which was crazy and rediculous. This was my 5th of so 24 hour race, and I've never had that problem before, but there's a first for everything, so whatever. I crashed into a few ditches, and eventually, right before dawn, crashed pretty good, and that, mixed with the pending daylight, helped wake me up for good (or at least until around 2 pm, when I fell into a post-race, drool-puddle, rock-hard nap while trying to read "Sometimes a Great Notion.") About an hour before the end, the 2nd to last checkpoint provided us with some whisky after we whined about them not having coffee ("I have something else that'll keep you warm" the guy said, and the rest is history.) It ended with a 3 mile jaunt down a railroad, ala La Ruta, which everyone tries to be like. Posers.
Anyway, we ended pretty strong, and I ended not hating adventure racing that much, which is a good way to go into retirement, I think. Unfortunately, I did miss one heck of a camp-out, cook-out with Alex and Pals up in Madison and the Swank, two things I am very sorry to have missed. But no regrets. 24 hours of woods-romping, even if half of it is taken up whining to myself, is ok by me.
And last night was the inaugural Inter-Asheville Bike Shop Bowling Tournament held at Sky Lanes. There was a good showing from Industry Nine, Pisgah Works, Suspension Experts, and then me and Alex for ProBikes (stupid Jed had to work...he would have pulled us through, being the God that he is) until we suckered I-9's best players onto our team. I think we still lost all over. I don't even know if anyone really won. But overall, a good time was had, I think. So you know, that was cool and stuff.
I'm about to go get a tattoo from old pal Galen. I'm not saying what it's going to be, except to saythat's its going to be awesome. Like the Pisgah boys' bowling skills/fashion senses awesome:
Monday, November 10, 2008
The Gameplan
Turns out I'm going to be racing for Independent Fabrications next season, which I'm thoroughly excited about. There are some awesome folks racing for them, and I whole-heartedly agree with the unstated mission statement of the company, so I'm thrilled to be representing them as I ride around in circles and then spread goodwill post-race. But with this newfound direction and motivation for next year's race season, I've come to the realization that I really would like to step up my game. That is, get friggen faster, and get better all-around on a bike. And I want to do it without the smile-draining, fun-sucking drag of current, conventional training, which I don't really think will be a problem.
Today BikeSnobNYC, who consistantly is like music to my ears, said it perfectly:
I love it! This paragraph is a masterpiece. My oft-used line is "fast by default" which I use to describe riders for whom I have a lot of respect, and the type of rider I'd like to become. That is, a rider who is fast because all they do is ride, and all they do is ride is because that's all they want to do. I'm so against power-taps, but I'm all about working on my gate-starts at the BMX track, trying to keep up with Alex's sprints through yellow-to-red-lights, and running a 2:1 in Pisgah just because it hurts and its fun that way--that's power training by default, I can feel the benefit, and nothing's beeping at me. And I want my handling skills to get better, which I'm planning on doing by building skinnies in my back yard with Lexy's slag wood, riding my bike through the house, challanging everyone to games of Foot-Down until I can hold my own, and of course, just from zipping through town trying not to get hit or doored or beer-canned.
In some interview awhile back, Jill Kintner said something along the lines that where she wants to be as a rider is to be able to do whatever she wants on a bike. I love that. I, too, want to be able to do whatever I want on a bike. And on all sorts of bikes. I want to ride my bike through the house, trackstand to turn a light off, fakie my way out of it to fit through the doorway, then park my bike nicely in the corner. (I was trying this the other day, but couldn't get the fakie part right, and kept cheating by touching the wall...I'll keep trying.) I want to be able to do on a bike whatever I can do on my feet, only better and more impressively. I want to develop the handling skills to do whatever I can picture in my head.
I'm so far off that. I can't even bunny-hop without clipless. Whoops. But hey, I'm still young.
Today BikeSnobNYC, who consistantly is like music to my ears, said it perfectly:
"Personally, I'm against training. In fact, I feel that if you're against doping in cycling, then you should be against training too. Some riders have access to more and better training, which in turn forces their competitors to attempt to match that training in order to level the field. In turn, the former riders seek out increasingly esoteric training methods to reclaim their advantage. The result is a cycle as vicious as it is dorky, and as anybody who's spent any time around bike racers knows, training (like drugs) can take a horrible toll on a person. Sure, training is much less likely to kill you than drugs are, but in large doses, it is almost guarenteed to make you incredibly boring and unpleasant to be around. If I want to have fun, I'll ride my bike. But if I want to spend a lot of time around people who constantly monitor their bodies with electronics, can't drink alcohol, and go to bed early, I'll volunteer my time at a hospital."
I love it! This paragraph is a masterpiece. My oft-used line is "fast by default" which I use to describe riders for whom I have a lot of respect, and the type of rider I'd like to become. That is, a rider who is fast because all they do is ride, and all they do is ride is because that's all they want to do. I'm so against power-taps, but I'm all about working on my gate-starts at the BMX track, trying to keep up with Alex's sprints through yellow-to-red-lights, and running a 2:1 in Pisgah just because it hurts and its fun that way--that's power training by default, I can feel the benefit, and nothing's beeping at me. And I want my handling skills to get better, which I'm planning on doing by building skinnies in my back yard with Lexy's slag wood, riding my bike through the house, challanging everyone to games of Foot-Down until I can hold my own, and of course, just from zipping through town trying not to get hit or doored or beer-canned.
In some interview awhile back, Jill Kintner said something along the lines that where she wants to be as a rider is to be able to do whatever she wants on a bike. I love that. I, too, want to be able to do whatever I want on a bike. And on all sorts of bikes. I want to ride my bike through the house, trackstand to turn a light off, fakie my way out of it to fit through the doorway, then park my bike nicely in the corner. (I was trying this the other day, but couldn't get the fakie part right, and kept cheating by touching the wall...I'll keep trying.) I want to be able to do on a bike whatever I can do on my feet, only better and more impressively. I want to develop the handling skills to do whatever I can picture in my head.
I'm so far off that. I can't even bunny-hop without clipless. Whoops. But hey, I'm still young.
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