As I so often do, I recently had to modify my training schedule to account for nearly four weeks of doing absolutely nothing. Helping my wife recover from surgery was taking most of my time each day while I tried to maintain the household, tend to my daughter, try to get some office work done and rest a bit with the few remaining hours. The opportunity to train never presented is self much less the energy to do it. So with a heavy sigh I tell myself, “Let’s try this again” as I hit the delete button on my training calendar. 

I was disappointed last fall when I was forced to stop running because of the pain in the plantar fascia of my left foot. I always seem to perform better on the bike when I’ve been running so I am happy to be back at it. My schedule consists of running during the week and MTB or road sessions on the weekends. I want to slowly ramp up my endurance for the late summer endurance MTB events on tap. Not so much that I expect to do all that well in these events but the fitness will serve me will for the CX season that commences shortly thereafter. 

As always, I take an overly optimistic approach to planning my workouts and by the second or third week I’m hacking away at my calendar with the delete button again. For instance, my brain felt I could handle successive 5-6 mile runs for the week of February 6^th.  But having been off the four weeks preceding and not being in very good shape before that, my legs slapped my brain back to reality. 

This week I’ve settled into a more reasonable workload of every-other-day runs and strength training in between. Physically, it seems to be working. Mentally, I still struggle with the concept that I don’t have to go balls-to-the-wall every day and a day off in not actually a day off but a period of rebuilding and rejuvenation. 

 It is especially troubling in the early stages of my training because I know I am not that fit yet. Later, when I see the results I am more accepting of the concept of recovery. Only after several weeks of consistent training do I stop feeling uneasy, or even panicky, about my progress or lack of. 

I have strength training scheduled for tonight. The MTB ride I had scheduled for Saturday will be replaced by a morning run because I have an appointment to do my taxes in the morning and then a birthday party for my niece’s kid in the afternoon. If she is up for it, my wife and I will hit Morongo Casino for a rare date night. We will probably get home late but with nothing to do on Sunday and the holiday on Monday I should be able to get on the bike both days. 

The good thing is, with a schedule like this, I won’t feel guilty about drinking beer…like I really feel guilty drinking beer…

The end is near. Only a few days left in 2011 and I’m still trying to check stuff off of my 2011 to-do list. One of the last things on that list is setting my goals for 2012. I was going to check that one off a few months ago when I remembered the world is supposed to end on 12-21-2012, my birthday by coincidence. But it looks like the 2013 World Cyclocross Championships in Louisville are a go so I guess I’ll take a chance and plan accordingly. 

Before moving forward let me preface the remainder of this post by saying I don’t do “retrospectives,” mainly because I believe in moving forward. What ever happened in 2012, good, bad or otherwise is in the past. I don’t really want to remember the bad stuff and there is no benefit from reliving past glories. I figure the best way to get where I am going is to start from where I am at. It doesn’t matter to me how I got here, what matters is how will I get over there? 

To be honest, I hadn’t thought much about my goals for next year if at all. 2011 isn’t really leaving me much to build upon for 2012. I do know I will be shifting my focus from road (crit) racing to ‘cross for 2012. ‘Cross is just so much more “user friendly” for an aging pack finisher with a family and career. And I would like to get back into mountain biking if for nothing else but the training benefit for cyclocross and the change of scenery. So with these, among other things, in my mind here are my competitive goals for the upcoming year, in no particular order: 

• Compete in at least two (2) marathon mtb races.
• Compete in at least 10 of the 2012 Prestige Series CX events.
• Finish in the top ½ of the field for ½ of the CX events I enter.
• Make each training session fun.
• Keep a complete training diary for the entire year.
• Train consistently, make time to train.
• Eat fewer (a lot fewer) sweets. 

OK, maybe these don’t sound like much for goals and maybe they fly in the face of conventional goal-setting wisdom, but these are my goals. They are not the goals someone else tells me I should be making. They are not based on meaningless performance data captured by some overpriced techno-pacifier. And they may not be goals that will take me to the “next level.” But these goals are more carefully thought out than they appear. They are based on what I think I can achieve without sacrificing other aspects of my life. Maybe they don’t lead to the podium but they will make me happy and for me, that is what it is all about because Lord knows I ain’t making any money off this deal. 

Happy New Year to all! May your goals for 2012 lead you where you want to go and I hope you find happiness there.

For as long as I’ve been racing bicycles in some form or another, I’ve always dreamed about my perfect holiday (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years)…Getting up early on a crisp fall/winter morning to roll out on a long, leisurely bike ride either solo or with the local group. The ride would include the mandatory coffee stop, or two, and after I would return to a house humming with holiday spirit. But in the nearly 30 or so years I’ve been riding I’ve never lived this dream. I’ve never lived in a cycling household rather I am the cyclist of the household, there is a difference, and thus the plans of the many trump the dream of the individual. However, that does not keep me from trying to live the dream every year. 

This year, my planned 60 mile ride on Christmas Eve morning quickly dissolved into a 90 minute IDT session when it was announced the tamale making would commence early that morning. And with my brothers arriving early that morning and the rest of the family following shortly thereafter, there was much to do…all hands were required on deck. 

There was no way I was going to fit a road ride in before 6:00 AM (about the time my eight year old daughter woke up)on Christmas morning so, once again, it was me, the IDT and a stack of John Wayne DVD’s in the garage.

 In the last several years, however, I have learned something I wish I would have known a long time ago. It used to be that I couldn’t wait for the opportunity to leave the house on the bike. I would spend all my time off the bike chomping on the bit, anticipating my next ride and if/when I didn’t get out my mood would turn ugly. In short, I was happiest when I was on the bike. Now, I still look forward to my time putting rubber to the road or dirt; the difference is that it is not all about leaving but coming back home.

I know I may never share the experience of a ride or race with my family but the one thing we can share is me coming home from a ride or race. Except for my youngest daughter, it does not bother me anymore that no one really cares about my ride, except that I got home safe.

 I guess I have learned to embrace the many roles I play during the course of any given day. I’ve learned not to let any single role define who or what I am. I’ve learned that the worst thing that could happen is not missing the opportunity for a bike ride but missing the opportunity to be with family. Like a puzzle, each piece of my life fits together with the others to make a beautiful picture, if a piece is missing or put in the wrong place it fucks up the whole thing.*                                                    

*Sorry for dropping the F-Bomb but poetic analogies are not my style. This one just happened to be appropriate so I muddied it up a little before I went into full Lord Byron mode.

When your best shot at a podium is a long one, there is not a lot that can go so wrong that you would classify it as a “bad day.”  As such, the events I am about to describe are a chronicle of what went down that day, not a list of excuses. 

December 4 was the second of two days of UCI racing in Downtown LA’s Historic Park, the same park where the So Cal Prestige Series kicked off the 2011 season. The course, of course, was different, the weather cool and dry and I was looking forward to a some fun in lactic acid land. I departed from my usual race routine by driving a different vehicle (my son’s 2011 Nissan Frontier rather than my 2005 Jeep Liberty). I also brought long my support crew, Earl (an 8 month old French Bulldog). While neither of these were a distraction they did cause me to deviate from my usual pre-race routine. While tending to Earl I did miss the opening of the course for recon. I spent the next 40 minutes warming up on the trainer waiting for the course to open up again. So far, no biggie. 

Once on the course I felt good. But as I approached the first set of barrier I unclipped my right foot from my new Crank Bros Egg Beater pedals , swung my leg over the bike where it continued in a long, graceful arc, across the backside of my body and finally hit the ground along with the rest of my body; my left foot still securely attached to my left Crank Bros Egg Beater pedal.  I had replaced my old Speedplay Frogs  with the Egg Beaters only a few days prior when I found out that I could buy the new pedals for only a few dollars more than the Frog replacement cleats I was originally looking for. Still, no biggie, now I know what my left foot needs to do for next time. 

As I continued my recon/warm-up I dropped my chain three (3) times before the end of my lap, something I hadn’t done since…ever. The last time I can recall dropping a chain was on a MTB ride in Colorado. OK, now I’m starting to worry a little bit. I didn’t really want to spend the next 40 minutes picking myself and my chain off the dirt every few feet. 

As they announced first call for staging I did my best to channel the Dahli Lama and enter a state of peacefulness and tranquility.  Before I could say, “Oooohhmmmm…” the man said “GO!” and we were off. My ride was going good, my chain and pedals were cooperating. The course was dry except for a single mud puddle coming out of a sharp left turn and into a sharp right. I was concentrating so hard on avoiding the slick mud I forgot to set up for the sharp right and took out part of the course marking tape.  The crowed, always eager to dispense advice, reminded me not to take the course with me, they needed it for the next race… 

And so went the next 3 laps sans the mud puddle mishap. That is until my last lap when I thought I picked up a piece of course debris in my rear wheel. I “pinged” along for another few minutes when I realized that the constant pinging sound was accompanied by a noticeable drop in speed despite my efforts to speed up. I pulled over to inspect my rear wheel and noticed a spoke hanging from the rim. I was about to call it a day but instead twisted the offending spoke around its neighbor and continued to finish my (last) lap.

Finishing 18^th,the word was I missed a good race. Next: Long road rides on chilly mornings, single malt scotch, a hand rolled Cohiba or two from Leon’s and the holidays.

The fact is that most of us must go to work, if not every day at least 5 days a week. It is our obligation to those who look to us for support. When shit happens, we still have to go to work. We may take a day or two off to deal with the immediate fall out but for the most part we must work come hell or high water or both.  I also think that for most of us, when hell or high water comes, the last thing on the to-do list is to go for a bike ride. That is, unless riding your bike is your job.  Insert heavy sigh here…unfortunately riding my bike is not my job. 

Recently there was a minor catastrophe in my house. Because of the holiday I will have to deal with the meat of the problem this weekend. So I cannot, in good conscience (or good health, according to my wife) take more than half the day on Sunday to race when there is so much to be done before Monday. Riding and racing are still, technically, a hobby and so are relegated to last on the list of things to do in these situations. Because I ride so early in the mornings I can still get out on the road and be home before “business hours,” so I got that; I’ll just miss the Turkey Trot CX.  Fortunately the next local race is only a week from Sunday. 

This is just all part of being an age-group armature; why I’m still chasing the break and not in it. But for tomorrow, Thanksgiving Day, I will sit up and enjoy what I’ve accomplished so far, give thanks for what I’ve been blessed with and help those a little less fortunate than I. Friday I’ll wake up, put my head town and hammer into the wind and try to get just a little more time on what lies ahead. 

To anyone who may be reading this and those that are not, the best of all things to all of you and especially a Happy Thanksgiving day.

While most of So Cal spent the weekend anticipating better weather to come, there were a couple of hundred of us gathered at El Dorado Park in Long Beach, giddy with excitement as we stood in the steady, early morning rain and cold, anticipating some “real” cyclocross racing for a change. 

It was cold with a light steady rain falling when I pulled up to the venue. The rain would get harder in the hours leading up to my start time but it never stopped. Since I rarely ride in inclement weather I decided against staring warm and dry in the car and rode cold, wet laps around the park to get used to the conditions. I also road a couple of laps of the course which consisted of mostly grass with some sand and a few loose dirt spots, however by the time my race toed the line the course has turned to mostly soupy mud and grass so wet if felt like riding through sand. 

I changed into some dry kit just before my start and rolled to the staging area. I chose to wear a skinsuit, arm warmers, long sleeve cold-weather under armor and finger gloves and bare legs. I shivered as I stood around with the other racers in my category, thinking I was a little too optimistic in my choice of clothing. After the lady said “GO!” it wasn’t long I realized I had made the right choice after all. 

I quickly took my place at the back of the pack as the leaders sprinted for the hole shot. By the middle of the first lap I was passing a few riders who probably thinking maybe the hole shot isn’t worth the effort. I was taking good lines and staying upright despite the slippery conditions and cleared the log-across-the-road obstacle easily. 

By the second lap the conditions were starting to take their toll on my legs. My shoes were wet and muddy, the felt like they weighed five pounds each.  The mud and wet grass made it impossible to maintain any momentum so I was constantly pushing with nowhere to recover, even on the paved sections. My focus was on what was immediately in front of my front wheel, nothing else mattered. By the time I came to the log-in-the-road again I had forgotten it was there. I nearly t-boned the thing and said to no one in particular, “who put that fucking log across the course?” 

A few hundred meters into my fourth lap I heard the announce tell the leaders they had one to go. Somewhere on the backside of the course the leaders passed me. I thanked them as they flew by because I knew that it meant I, too, was on my last lap. 

Let me take a moment for some commentary. In a criterium, guy sat the back of the pack or off the back are audibly criticized by spectators. Not all spectators just the arrogant ass-holes who seem to come out in force for these events. It’s a road thing. At a ‘cross race, the guys at the back get just as much encouragement, kudos and cheers as the guys at the front. Not only is this a cool thing, it seems to be unique to the discipline. 

As I crossed the finish line I was hot and cold at the same time, totally spent but energized, both glad and sorry it was over. That is the psychosis, the schizophrenia and the beauty of cyclocross. By the way, I finished 30 out of 35 finishers.

Finished!

‘Crossers are kids at heart and still like to play in the rain.
90 minutes to the start of the 45+ B’s.

Last weekend our out-of-warranty oven stopped working. Not wanting to dip into our available credit with the holidays approaching my cyclocross budget took one for the team big time. Spookycross.

And the chase loses more time to the break…