Quickie

Sorry for the brief update, but I've only got a few minutes on this computer before I have to go meet the boys for a ride. Racing last weekend was a kick in the pants. Both "crits" were on closed circuits without any hard turns. The first was nothing like a race. We rolled around for 45 minutes pacelining and then sprinted for half a lap. The second race was a bloodbath. The wind was really howling and people just hit it from the gun and didn't stop. Jet-lagged, out-gunned and with no idea who or what to mark I was in my own little world of suffering for 58 minutes of an hour race before getting popped. I was the last guy to get blown and only the 11 other guys ahead of me finished out of 40+. I still felt like a toolbag. Not a great way to start my Australian racing career, but oh well. I had put new brakepads on and they were screaming like a freight train braking every time I touched them, so at least I was memorable. Jono was so embarrassed he would try to brake with one hand and hold me back at stopsigns. Awful!

We're up in Noosa now, a beach resort town north of Brisbane and the plan is to kick it like superstars before doing a suicide crit on Saturday. I say suicide, because its a big money crit on a narrow two lane road with TIGHT U-turns at both ends and 20,000 people whipping teh riders into a frenzy. This is going to be my last race of the season (Finally!) after a long 10 months of racing. The legs have been feeling like absolute garbage, but maybe I can find a little form for one more day. Then its nothing but kick back and enjoy the sun and surf. In the words of Jono, "This...is...living..."

P.S. As soon as I get back to some reliable wireless and my computer I'll try to upload some photos. They say they're worth a thousand words and that beats the hell out of typing.

Down Under

I'm in Australia. It is heaven. I don't think I could be happier anywhere else at the moment. The sun is shining, the roads are great, the people are friendly and hilarious and the coffee is strong. The only drawback is I'm going to have to name my firstborn (boy or girl) after my buddy Jono who set this trip up. I still can't really believe I'm down here doing this, and I kind of hope that feeling doesn't wear off.

We got up early today to take a little spin down to the coffee shop where we hung out, talked trash and had good laugh for almost two hours as other cyclists filtered in and out. Jono seems to know anyone who has ever even looked at a bike in Australia and you could not ask for a better guide. We're apparently going to dive into the whole thing headfirst tomorrow and do both of the local crits that are on the schedule. Then its off to a bubble wrap party and $2 steaks Sunday night, and a day or two to recover before we head to the beach in preparation for the Noosa Crit, which Jono tells me is more or less the best Crit in the world. At this point I'll believe anything that comes out of his mouth. I could not have imagined things would be this nice.

I did manage to mess my hand up the day before I left Colorado. Classic, huh? I may or may not have torn a ligament. The bad news is I'm wearing a splint which is definitely not in style at the moment and I probably won't be surfing anytime soon. But the good news is that despite how stupid I look I can still ride and race with the thing on.

The plan now is to go get me dialed in with Aussie fashion, which I think might mean picking up some (figuratively and literally) tight shirts and a mullet. I can't wait. Don't worry, if that actually comes to pass I'll be sure to break out the camera.

Brrrrrrr

Its snowing in Denver. Harsh return to the continental climate. No, I am not riding in the snow today. I'll give Denver one day to get its act together, and if it doesn't I'm going back to the Caribbean...

Believe it!

Yep, that's womens collegiate soccer on tv in Trinidad. Its blowing my mind. You would never see that on TV in the states. Fields, you could be famous in Trinidad! I'm still waiting for the collegiate cycling to come on...

Last night in Tobago

That's a picture of the sun going down on my Tobago experience. Its been a wild ride. I don't think I've ever been quite so cooked after a race. Its all I can do to drag myself up a flight of stairs and I completely passed out from 1 to 5 this afternoon. I guess the combination of hard competition, challenging courses, a foreign diet and the most intense heat I've ever experienced while racing was about as much as my body could handle.

We take the boat tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn and then I've got one more day in Trinidad before I catch my flight Wednesday morning. I'm thinking I'd like to take a nice little spin and then take one last tour of the local cuisine. Hmmmm... bake and shark... Hom nom nom.

Wow

That's all I can say. Wow. I've heard nothing but legends about this final stage since I arrived in this country, but nothing could have prepared me for how insane it was. I got popped on the first climb (I'm sick in addition to being the most exhausted I've ever been), so I got to drive the course in the caravan.

I wish I'd had my camera because words can't do it justice. There was not a flat stretch if road after the first 5 miles. The course tore up and down insanely steep roads cut through the jungle, ripping down to the sea before climbing back to the tops of the mountains, again and again and again. Some of the pitches had extended 20% grades. It was the most beautiful, and the most vicious, course I have ever even heard and its hard to believe anyone could finish it.

Maybe 70 started, less than 30 finished. 3:40 was the winning time and the last finisher was at 5 hours. Lisban is insane. He did a heroic ride to finish with the front bunch of 10. One man got away, but Lisban won the field sprint for 2nd on the day and 2nd overall.

Madness.

Sunrise in Tobago

6:30am start today and a whole bunch of 7am starts mean that I've seen way more of these sunrises than I'd like, but you can't debate their beauty.

If I make if 10 miles in the race today it'll be a miracle. Wish me luck.

Like racing in a wet oven...

I just got my ass handed to me. Again. The race today was 15 laps of I don't know how far with one steep stinger of a climb and some really long rollers and a section of road right on the beach with a nasty cross/headwind. It was a total cluster%#*&. I felt so worked this morning that I almost got dropped in the first lap. I really thought I wasn't going to make it.

Then somehow (and this always seems to happen to me) I found myself in the break. A few people had slipped away and one solo guy had just gotten away and I figured it was my duty to get up there. So I attacked right before a one lane bridge, got a gap and caught the solo German. We worked together for maybe 3 laps before we finally caught the 4 guys up the road. And that's when things started looking bad.

Before I describe how poorly we rode as a team today let me first say that the guys on the team are great racers and I'm very grateful that they've brought me to this race. That said, you just can't expect to do well in a professional level race with totally amateur organization. We didn't have a team meeting before the race so we didn't really have any idea of the plan(okay, we didn't even have a plan). We also had no idea who the riders were who were close to Lisban on the GC. I wore a radio all damn day and didn't hear a single thing on it.

So I ride myself up into the break and I can't think of anything to do but sit on, soft-pedal through and try to bring down the time gap without getting dropped. Had I known where people were on the GC or what was going on behind me I could have at least marked some threat or tried to disrupt things instead of just sitting there twittling my thumbs.

I keep finding new depths of suffering here in paradise. Like I said, I was pretty worked from the day before, and on top of that it was brutally hot. When I say hot I mean hotter than satan's balls hot. Hotter than a dead dingo's donger hot. Hotter than to rats gettin busy in a wool sock. It felt like I was standing too close to a fire. The whole day.

And then disaster. I didn't get a feed for 3 laps. That pretty much sealed my fate. I missed one feed when the girl helping us out ran into someone, and then after that I guess they just ran out of water. I mean, plain water might not have done much for me anyway, but without it I was done. To add insult to injury all they could get me was tap water, which is only good to drink if you want to spend some quality time with the toilet.

So I was a wobbling corpse on the bike, sweating so much my hands were getting pruned and my feet were swelling in my shoes. At this point it would have been nice to know that our time gap of 5 minutes was to the field, not the chasers who were right on us. They caught us and suddenly I was one of ten and a couple of guys had teammates. That was about it. We were no longer working smoothly, but going in fits and starts as guys would attack, get reeled in and attack again. Eventually 4 got away in total, in ones and twos and after a few failed attempts to get up to them we resigned ourselves to being caught.

In short the group got us. I slayed myself to keep the pace up and cover moves for Lisban, going as deep in the pain cave as I ever have, and eventually getting popped with about a mile to go. After the race I heard that one of the guys who had gotten away had been within a minute of Lisban and was now the leader by a good margin. So lame. It was brutal out there, and we're decidedly outgunned by a talented international field, but I can't help but think that if we'd been a little better organized it might have come out better.

I was weaving on the bike on the way home and barely made it. I've been horizontal ever since and its taking everything I have to get myself out the door and downstairs to this huge party with a steel drum band and free booze. Yup, I'm that tired.

Don't know what good I'm going to be tomorrow. I tell you I'd much rather spend the day on the beach drinking fruity drinks moving as little as possible, but if Lisban asks me to start I guess I'll have to.

Haha

That's a picture of one drunk German tackling another buzzed German into the surf. Some of the guys took a glass-bottomed boat out to the reef today and I guess there was a little booze on said boat. Unfortunately, Adam informs me that Germans race better hung over. Curses.

The calm before the storm

So that's what I'm seeing as I sit on the beach. We've got the feet up and all the boys are talking trash and eyeing the women as they come in from the water. Its about as nice as any tropical vacation could be. The only problem is that come tomorrow morning there will be war on the roads of Tobago. Lisban is still in the jersey by tenths of a second and its going to take everything we have to keep him there.

Ugghhh

Three flat tubies on the team. We've got our work cut out for us.

Just can't catch a break (figuratively)

Hooray! Turns out my teammate Lisban has the leaders jersey after the first road stage and since I'm 40 minutes down the job for today was to keep Lisban safe. I was so wrecked from yesterday that I almost couldn't roll out of bed. The whole room was bustling as people ate breakfast and got ready and I was still horizontal. I somehow got myself dressed, sucked down some breakfast and made it out the door. We left the hotel when the race was supposed to be starting, but true to form we still had to sit around for a half hour when we got there.

The stage today was a doozy. It was 6 long laps of mostly rolling terrain with one big nasty climb. It wasn't long, but it was STEEP! The better part of it was over 20%. It went up and up, then came FLYING down a huge whoop-de-doo. 20% down and then 20% up. It rolled for a bit and then did a twisting, scary descent before opening up into a wide straight drop where we hit 50+mph each time. More rolling terrain led to the finish.

I'm pretty proud if how I rode. I felt terrible, but I still managed to help out. I did a lot of work early, covering moves and such, and then in later laps driving the pace and fetching water. I was so sure I was going to get popped each time up the climb, but each time I dug deep to stick with the group. Our guys had some tough luck and it was just myself and Joshua left with Lisban as the miles ticked down. Then on the last lap Lisban sent me back to get some cola. I was hanging around at the back of the pack waiting for the team car when I flatted. Again. So weak.

I stood at the side of the road for maybe 2 minutes before our car came up. Turns out they'd been pulled over by the cops. Unbelievable. So they finally came up and got me a wheel, but the race was long gone by that point. I noodled the last lap with a Brit from Emile's team who recognized me from Belgium 2 years ago. I almost got off and walked up the climb, but we made it. Betty handed me a coke right at the top of the climb and now I'm back at the ranch safe and sound and trying to muster up some energy to reglue my tubie, again. Good news is Lisban finished with the front group. I think there may have been a small break (1 or 2 guys) off the front so I don't know if he still has the jersey, but if he doesn't he's still close.

Dammit

I flatted. End of lap two coming in hot for the points sprint and I got led right into a huge pothole. Smashed the rear wheel flat and I've been too scared to look at how bad the damage to the wheel is. I managed to keep it upright, but the wheelchange was about the slowest ever. I had to do it myself, plus root through the car for a 10spd wheel and then it got stuck in the window. So slow! It also happened at the worst possible time: the whole field was sprinting flat out and about 100 meters after the line they turned into a falseflat headwind. (My buddy just told me they didn't slow down after the sprint and that's when the break formed) Also, our driver was Miss Alexander and though she's about the nicest lady ever she either didn't know how or didn't want to pace me back on.

I suffered by myself for almost a whole lap, got a few more chasers with me and caught back on right after the turn into the headwind. I don't think I have ever chased that hard in my life. It was hotter than any other race I've ever done and I was out of food and water. I only got back on bc a group of 20+ had gotten away. They were noodling. But about 2k later some ninnies decided to attack through the feed zone in an effort to bridge the 2:40 gap.

I got popped. I was towards the back still trying to recover and just got gapped off. So lame. I chased. Hard. For two laps. Then I decided it would be best to ask what the timecut was so I wasn't just banging my head against the wall. Turns out there isn't one. They just give you the time of the last finisher. So I tucked tail and headed for the hotel.

Only problem: no key and no one in the office. At this point I was so cracked I thought about begging for food. I went and asked everyone for a key, but no one was able to help. I was physically drained and emotionally crushed. Finally some juniors from grenada (I think) who were doing the shorter race and staying next door got back and I climbed from their balcony to ours. If you know me, you know I'm petrified of heights. So the fact that I dangled my ass over that railing to get a shower and a bite to eat says something about how desperate I was.

So I get to start tomorrow, but I feel as drained as I ever have and tomorrow is a hilly day. We'll just have to see.

:(

Official results

http://www.odesseytiming.com/

TT Results

So I wasn't as bad as I thought, but still not great. I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss that TT rig.

One down

The opening stage of the Tobago International Cycling Classic was a 12k TT on a rolling loop. I rode it with some janky clipons and my Williams 58s, which was better gear than some, but not as good as the full TT rig including disk and helmet that a few people were riding, including the german who beat me by a minute and a half. One and a half minutes on a 12k course. That stinks.

The commissar warned us that the organization would be minimal and that we shouldn't expect much in the way of course marshals. Nevertheless I got a little flustered when I saw some euro almost get pancaked by a corrolla as he made the first left onto the course. The cop hadn't even tried to stop the car. I went to the official to suggest that maybe they should tell the cop to try to control traffic, and they just said, "Its going to be like that all the way around. You're in charge of your own safety." Sweet.

My start was around 7:20am and it was already so hot I was sweating as soon as I stepped outside. I had a decent start, always watching for traffic at every turn. I wasn't moving very fast on the way out trying to save some for a 3 step climb about 2/3 of the way through. I got caught in traffic before the climb and had to weave in and out of it and into the oncoming lane more than once.

I made it over the climbs and caught my minute man right at the bottom of the descent. He was a rider from Guadalupe and as I passed he just tagged right onto my wheel. I couldn't believe it. Physically it doesn't make you go slower to have someone behind you, but mentally its kind of jarring. His team car was behind him actually encouraging him. I told my teammates about it postrace and they said "oh yeah, those guys always cheat. They'll even get in the van sometimes a get a ride during a stage." This island racing is a kick in the pants.

Time for a little nap-a-roo before stage two this afternoon. Its just 10 laps of the TT course. Apparently there's a sprinters jersey up for grabs in this race, and I may just see what I can do. I was so blown and overheated after the TT that I almost passed out on the way home, but whaddyagonnado? We'll just see what happens.

Loudspeaker Car

Parade

Today they had a parade from the hotel to Scarborough and back with all the racers. They led the parade with a beat old car that had loudspeakers on top, blaring information about the race and talking up the local racers and international talent. We were somehow stuck in front getting blasted by the loudspeakers. This shot is looking backwards from the front of the parade.

It really is an international field with racers from sweden, germany, holland, guadalupe, guyana, jamaica, barbados, canada, scotland, and a bunch of others too. Its going to be some seriously serious racing.

Technical meeting

Dammit

Well, it was only a matter of time. Flatted the tubie and spent the better part of the day fixing it. Hoping I can ride it tomorrow in the TT. I was lucky in two ways. 1st, it wasn't during a race, and 2nd I was less than a mile from the house.

Dinner time

Colombian Lisban Quintero and his understudy Daniel dialing in some serious BBQ for dinner. Yes.

Gettin famous

Doing an interview for the local news. We didn't know we were doing this so none of us had our team jerseys and I was in my Fred special shorts, gnarly plaid and a bright red hat. Way to represent for the US!

Welcoming committee

This guy is as long as my middle finger. He did not like getting his photo taken and expressed his distaste by flying at my face. I may or may not have started jumping around and swatting at myself like I was deranged. My teammates are now pretty sure I'm out of my mind.

On the ferry the guys were having a great laugh about how funny our accent is. We told them it goes both ways and they finally understood why I still have no idea what's going on half the time.

And to all you haters who thought I would blow chunks for sure: I didn't even come close to yaking. Booyah!

I have officially arrived in paradise

For at least a few days we're crashing at an insane pad on top of a hill with almost 360 degree views. Its got a huge deck with a pool overlooking the sea. I think I'm in love. They're gonna have a hard time getting me to leave...

3 down 1 up

The boys catching a few winks on the ferry.

Seasickness

When we showed up to the boat it smelled exactly like the fishing boat I worked on in Alaska. I always thought it was the fish smell that made me sick, but apparently its just the fuel or something. So I was about ready to throw up on dry land. Now we're really moving and we still have two hours to go. Let's just say I might be getting a little closer to my climbing weight soon :-0----¤ (that's my vomiting emoticon)

Oh boy

Daniele is a brave man. He just crushed this big, beautiful breakfast sandwich while we were still in the bay. Now we're in the open sea and we are rockin and rollin! If we see that sandwich again I bet it doesn't look have as nice...

Tobago Bound

Shit... After a 4:15 wakeup call we stubled bleary-eyed to the car, somehow made it down that 25% driveway and headed down to catch the ferry. We boarded as the sun rose and now were steady cruisin. ETA is 9am.

oh yeah

By the way, that photo is of the driveway to the house we're staying at. Rand Miller, eat your heart out. This road blows doors off of that gentle grade to your apartment. Okay, so it may not be a "road", but its some manner of paved surface thats gotta be well over 25%. They have to put blocks under their tires every time they park, and most cars can only get up in reverse. Insane.

I'm chillin out right now, enjoying the hospitality of the Family Alexander. They have two boys racing on the team with me, and both Joshua and Adam are decorated international cyclists, besides being super cool. I hear there are some serious European teams coming to Tobago, with ex Gerolsteiner riders and so forth, but I know these guys are strong as hell and I'm hoping we can give them a run for their money. Feeling a bit sick right now, despite sleeping for almost ten hours last night. We're gonna just chill this morning/afternoon and then take a little spinny sometime around 3. Tomorrow its off to Tobago by ferry and then the racing starts Thursday.

I should say that everyone I talk to, and I mean EVERYONE, has horror stories about Tobago, especially the last stage. It seems like every story about Tobago starts out, "Now I don't want to scare you, but...". It sounds like there are extended climbs above 20%, hair-raising descents with sheer cliff drops, a local population that doesn't believe in road closure, and a hot hot sun. "Is like ah fokin muhgnifyin glass buhrnin ahn ant!" My plan right now is to give it everything I've got in the first few stages, which aren't supposed to be as bad, try to do some work early on stage 5 and then just enjoy the rest of the ride at my own pace. The course pretty much circumnavigates the island and its supposed to pass by and through some of the most beautiful jungle and whitesand beaches in the Caribbean. People said they've seen racers try to hang on and blow so badly they had to start walking their bikes. These are ex-pros, mind you. So unless I lose 30lbs or have a fortuitous accident involving radiation and super-human powers, I think the plan will be to just ride my own race and try not to die. Of course, if my team can really put something together, well then I guess I'll have to forgo that leisurely plan and do whatever I can to help them

I just changed my ticket from Monday morning to Wednesday, so even if I'm bleeding out of my eyes trying to climb on Sunday I should still have some time to see the sights before I leave.

And that's that

I keep waiting for computer access so I can write up good race reports, but computers aren't just popping up here on the island. I figure its better to keep you abreast of the happenings than to wait to write some incredible opus that might never come. So without further ado:

Stage 2: 36 mi road race. Started flatish, then went into some power climbs and descents that scared me almost to death. Well, first they nearly just killed me outright. Imagine the worst paved road you've ever seen, then picture it ten times worse, then take that and drop some bombs on it and scatter some sand around and you have the race course. And these guys were FLYING down the descents. I actually climbed with the leaders and got gapped on the downhills. Crazy. After the climbing there was maybe ten miles through towns with cars and dogs and people all over the course. I stayed with the front group and when someone attacked with a k to go I hopped on the first person to respond and ripped around with 300 meters to go to take a very satisfying stage win. Downhill tailwind sprints tend to favor the heaviest man in cycling :) It was a good win, plus the 10 second time bonus jumped me to 3rd place. An untimely puncture took erik out, and even though Daniele sacrificed his wheel, and erik chased like a madman, he still lost 26 seconds. Bummer.

Stage 4: 100k lollipop (shaped, Andy) course almost all rolling with a pretty good headwind for the last few miles. I had gotten a rubdown the night before and the legs actually felt pretty good. I spent most of the race marking the two guys ahead of me, when I should have been attacking my balls off. Its hard to put yourself out there when the other guys have 9 people each to support them. Oh well. I left it too late, giving a solid effort into the hedwind as the skies broke open, but I saw the whole field chasing and gave up. That's just stupid inexperience and a lack of radios. Sounded like the chasers were getting tired & I might have been able to stick it. Hindsight... Daniele attacked on the last roller and got a good gap with two others. When two trek went to chase I jumped accross to them and then went over the top, hoping to get ten seconds on the field and move up to 2nd place. I stayed away for 4th, but not by 10 seconds. Damn! BUT, Daniele played those boys like a fiddle and crushed them to take the stage win!

All in all a good trip to Trinidad. I got three 4ths and two wins, and came out 3rd in the GC, which is my best GC finish ever. As a team, we won 3 of the 5 races we entered(note that I'm not counting that one lap cluster#*@¤ as a race) Hopefully Exustar is impressed and I can go do some more international racing soon.

A quick note about the director, Roger. Maybe its because I've never been on a team with a director before, but he strikes me as one of the most knowledgeable and competent directors anywhere. He knew exactly how to play each race and I think we owe a great deal of our success to his wisdom. To do what we did with just 3 guys against strong teams of ten is impressive. Roger was awesome and I hope I get to ride for him again.

We finished racing, hit up the awards ceremony and then the team I'll be riding with at Tobago picked me up and whisked me off to Maracas beach. I raced against these guys this week and they're really cool. They're from Team Foundation and one of the guys, actually the guy who took second on the GC, is a Colombian national who's been living and racing in NY for 6 years. We chilled out on the beach, scoped the sites, swam and then topped it all off with some world famous bake & shark and stags (the manly beer of Trinidad)

Tomorrow we ride and chill before heading to Tobago Tuesday morning. But before riding and chilling comes clubbing. So I'm actually putting on pants in this hot island nation and stepping out with the rest of the team to see if we can't go get in a little trouble.

Stage two: HCTT

Okay, so this photo has nothing to do with bicycling or my trip, but blog posts are just so much cooler when the include pictures. That happens to be my good buddy Peter snagging some bagel bites and ranch during my wonderful last night in ketchum before I left for this trip.

Anyway, stage two was a mother. 700 Meters just straight up san fernando hill. Okay, not straight up, but for those of you from the norcal scene picture a tt up bohlman. They said it was only 700 meters, but when you're bleeding from the eyes and it feels like your legs are on fire 700 meters seems like 100 miles. I went out too hard and totally blew towards the top. The climb actually stair-steeped in 3 sections making it really hard to judge. I hit the last section way overgeared and felt like I was riding through sand as I slogged my way up the last 100 meters.

I thought I had really blown it. In typical Ryan fashion I got really down on myself, but when the dust settled I had actually done a pretty siolid ride. 1:59. Not too shabby considering the course record had been 1:52. Some jerk decided to run a 1:49 though, and two other guys got me landing me in 4th for the stage and 5th overall. Turns out there were time bonuses for the first stage. Oh yeah, for the second stage too, and the same guy won both, putting me 30 seconds out after his 10 seconds on each stage. Yeah, time bonuses go 3 deep. Just missed 'em each time.

Slack-diggity had a solid ride as well, less than 2 seconds back from me, slotting him into 8th place overall.

We all rode home so tired we could barely see and and showered, ate and climbed back into bed as fast as we could to try and sleep a few winks before we had to be at the circuit race for a 1:00pm start.

Brutal!

In other news there is a Trini concotion called Bake and Shark. Bake is like a deep-fried dough/bread thingy, and shark is deep-fried shark, and Bake & Shark is one of the most delicious (and probably most fattening) foods I have ever tasted. We went out one night in p of s to eat the vendor food in Savanah park and it was awesome! On top of all the fried goodies we hit up no fewer than 3 juice stands and sampled all manner of exotic fruit concoctions. Erik ventured so far as to try Seamoss, a type of seaweed blended with god knows, which we were later told was greatly beneficial to a man's virility. The actual words were: "it'ol make yuh prick like dis!(Indicating clenched fist and forearm). I drink it when I wona hav bebies." Hilarious.

Whoa boy...

3 races in about 16 hours is a tall order!

The Tour of San Fernando kicked off with a nighttime crit, for which they shut down a section of divided highway and ran a banana shaped 1.2 mile course. It was quite a scene, as everything seems to be here, with people crowding the start finish and people blaring on and on over the loudspeaker. With a u-turn at each end of the course and long straights it was basically slam the brakes, sprint out of the turns and then jam it at high speeds until we were braking at the other end. We're only 3 guys against teams of ten or more, so we just wanted to sit pretty, stay fresh and snag an opportunity to get Erik some extra time by sticking him in a break.

Things were going pretty well until Daniele broke his chain. Bummer! He managed to grab a bike from a guy we knew from Port of Spain and then jump back in. Unfortunately big Mike apparently has gorilla feet and Daniele was flopping around in those shoes like a dick in a shirtsleeve. He still managed ride like a frigging animal. With a few laps to go Erik managed to slot himself into a good looking break with another gc conteder and the CRUSHED IT. These guys would have stayed away and nabbed a gap on the field, but for some crazy reason they announced primes with 3 AND 2 laps to go. Ridiculous! We wneded up catching them with a few hundred meters to go and Erick held on for 8th.

Meanwhile I was trying to set up for the field sprint. Coming into the last u-turn Trek had a big train lined up and Daniele and I were next to each other behind the trek guy who had won the one lap sprint at Newsday. I asked him if he wanted the wheel (he's a great track rider) not realizing he was on a borrowed bike. The guy heard us say that and instead of ripping through the turn and giving us a ride to the sprint he took the worst line possible, coming to an almost complete stop and letting a gap open to the rest of the train. I'm an idiot, and instead of just taking the wide line and blazing around him I let him jam me up. He sprinted HARD out of the turn, but I stayed with him and tried to go for it from way too far back for way too long, but I managed to pass a number of guys and pip one more at the line to finish 4th.

Pretty sad style, but not a bad finish.

Post-race was a bit of a disaster. The race had been delayed to accommodate riders stuck in traffic due to an accident coming from p of s and a crash in the masters race. The race started more than an hour late and we had a 7 am start time for the hill clim tt the next morning(that's 3am california time). We had to go back to one house to drop our gear and shower and then get a ride to a second house to eat and sleep. We didn't get to bed until well after midnight, and I haven't felt so wrecked in a long, long time...

Lime'in

Limin: verb: to chill.

That's the boys on the porch at our host housing. 3 stages down. One to go.

Trophy shot

Here ya go. A photo! Hooray! Sorry I didn't get all artistic on ya. Just how it is...

update

so the shift key on this computer is really hard to hit, so i'm just not going to bother. i'm sorry for the spotty updates. i was planning to do a bunch of them from the phone, but it doesn't seem to be working. oh well

life on the island is sweet. its really really hot and super humid, but there's ac most everywhere so its not too bad. we were in a hotel for the first two nights as the newsday cycling classic was up in port of spain. best part of the trip so far is the accent. i can't get over how cool people sound here. we were spinning around and little kids would be like: hey biker mon, skillful bika. lemme teach yuh how ride dat ting. amazing. people have been really nice too. i think we"re surviving on the good graces of the promoters and such and we got a nice guy named isham to drive us all over, take us to lunch and then up to the old fort that overlooks all of port of spain and a good part of the island.

second best thing about trinidad is the driving. in a word: insane. you drive on the wrong side of hte road to start with, which has almost killed me a number of times while out spinning. people also dont really follow the traffic laws, they swerve like lunatics and you can just stop in the middle of the road and park whenever you feel like it. its actually somewhat comforting to ride here, because you never take anything for granted. back in the states you never really know if a car is going to follow the letter of the law and yield and all that. here its like a big crit that everyone is always in, and you ride under the assumption that anyone could do anything at any time.

so we had the first race yesterday, and i had no idea what to expect. we'd seen some other foreigners from scotland and the netherlands and also rumors of really strong caribbean riders, like pan-am junior champs and all that. the course went counter-clockwise around king james the 5th park, so if you weren't as lazy as i am you could probably find it on google maps. decent pavement minus the 8 inch deep open rain gutters on the finishing straight.

it turns out hte first race was a one lap sprint. no, not a timed sprint, or a team pursuit, just a suicidal mass start one lap crit. we rolled to the line and got all three of us up front, and then they told us it was the junior race and to go away. so we went to spin a lap and when we came back it turned out they had been lying and we all got stuck in the second row. so our race was pretty much over. lame. daniele made a good effort to get up to the front, but it was a lost cause. turns out track is pretty big down here, and the guys who took off were pretty much gone by the time i turned the first corner. my goal was to keep my skin, so my race was a big success.

so we found some shade to lounge in until the real crit a few hours later. in the meantime that had some other categories as well as a 5k run that must have had a few hundred people. before the run they got everyone into the park and led them in an aerobic workout. some guy, dressed head to toe in spandex, was in the back of a HUGE monster truck with a wireless mic shouting out the moves while reggae remixs of pop songs played full blast. really a site to see!

it was finally time for our race. the team plan was to just take it easy, follow anything that had the three big teams in it and basically save the legs for the stage race. roger, who's directing, said these guys are strong as hell, but not used to stage racing, so that if we could just lay low for the first two days of racing we'd be fresh and ready to crush it during the road races. we all got callups to the line as honored foreign guests. i guess i should mention that the race was a fundraiser for homeless children, and also had a total carnival atmosphere with music blaring, vendor booths and tons of people and kids running around.

right, so callups, then the official comes down and says that she wants to see a clean race, no intentional braking to let teammates get a gap, no pulling other riders and no switching (chopping). great. always a good sing when the official has to specailly mention those things. anyway, after that somewhat frightening intro we were off. the first few laps were pretty fast, with people attacking hard, but nothing really working. i saw the scotish guy that we had riden with get switched in the first few laps and hit the deck hard. great.

i was covering moves from the big three teams and found myself in a break of 7 with 2 foundation riders, one trek, one heatwave and two other guys. we had a decent gap, but people were skipping pulls and the foundation guys were taking turns attacking. i nabbed a four hundred dollar prime (trinidad dollars, damn) by a good margin so i felt good about my odds in the group. then the wheels totally came off and the two foundation guys were up the road together. roger yelled at me to get my ass up there and so i did. the race was only 30 laps of a 1.2 mile course and we had two big teams unrepresented and 15 laps to go. they attacked me once, and i yelled at them to just work together and they could have 2 guys on the podium. so we settled in. roger was great, giving me advice every lap and always yelling that they were chasing hard and that we needed to keep working. we rolled super steady until the very last lap, with me taking long pulls on the tailwind and getting them to hammer into the headwind finishing straight.

on the last lap the bigger guy, joshua, sat on my wheel and wouldn't pull through so i yelled at the other guy to lead it out, which he amazingly did. he drove it up to speed, took us through the last corner and all the way to about 150 before he looked back and started to sprint. i hit it with everything i had, with both calves cramping, but somehow managed to pull ahead of lisbon, stay ahead of joshua and take the win. insane.

something like this cheering crowds, people snapping photgraphs, podium interviews and my first ever trophy in cycling. awesome. just awesome. my boys were back there in the pack shutting everything down and letting the other teams just blow themselves up chasing. they rode an awesome race and i owe a lot to them.

all in all a really fantastic way to start the trip. i'm only hoping we're not totally marked and that we can keep up the good streak.

after the race we ate sandwiches back at the hotel, and then hopped in a car with elijah greene and his nephew to get a ride down to san fernando. craziest car ride i've ever been on. we three were crammed into the back of his subaru something or other while he did 100mph in a 50 zone on the freeway, dodging in and out of traffic, riding no more than 2 feet off the back of other cars and occasionally racing other drivers, all this while frequently looking back to talk with us and make sure we heard him over the blaring reggae. and yes, we went FLYING past at least one cop with his lights on. amazing.

its now pissing rain and we're just crossing our fingers that it lets up a bit before the 7:30 crit that officially starts the tour of san fernando. tomorrow at 7 am is a 1k uphill tt that looks to average like 18%. god help me.

i'll see if i can't get the phone working to send more timely updates and hopefully a few pics.

much love.

And away we go...

We've made it past security, the bikes are checked and we're just about to get on our first flight. Erik is snackin on a tasty Mickey-D's hasbrown and I'm trying to keep my eyes open after a late night of packing. Big ups to Dev for getting up way too early to drive us to the airport.

I'll be away from the phone for the next two weeks, but I should have internet access. Next stop Houston and then its just a short 5hrs to Trinidad. The super nice lady at check in hooked up the exit row seats on both flights so I am ready to go!

Back on the... road?

I totally thought my season was over. On coaches orders I had just spent a week doing as little as possible and getting ready to head back to Idaho for some real R&R. I had actually packed everything up and was en route back to Ketchum when I got a call from a friend saying a composite team was looking for riders at some racing in the Caribbean. I told him was full of it, and it wasn't funny to joke at other peoples expense. But on the off chance that this wasn't too good to be true I called the number he gave me and, long story short, I'm leaving tomorrow morning for two weeks on Trinidad & Tobago. I can't really believe it either.

The plan is to do one crit and two stage races and spend as much time on the beach as possible. It turns out two expats are organizing a team to compete in their home race and I'll be riding with two pursuiters from the Canadian national team and Erik Slack, a buddy from Bobs Bicycles in Boise. Apparently we're going to be staying with the brother of one of the team directors for the first stretch of racing, then chilling on Trinidad for a few days before heading over to Tobago for the second stage race. I was a bit worried about how my legs would feel after a long season and a week on my ass, but Judd said that if I got in a few hard rides this past week I might actually be on some decent form. So the fingers are crossed. I'd really like to have a good ride to please the director. I mean, if they're going to take care of me for two weeks I should produce something.

So I'd attach a picture to this post, but it would just be my big smiling face. I drove over to Denver and spent the day trying to glue up wheels and get ready for the big trip. I'm absolutely beside myself that this opportunity fell into my lap and I hope it'll be half as much fun as I think it will be. I don't know what the internet situation is going to be like down there, but I'll do my best to update this thing on a regular basis and let you know how things are going.

So stoked!

Whooooooeee!

Okay,

I know I've been letting this blog sit idle for a bit, but its not my fault. I'm doing it for you. You see, I've titled this blog Ryan on the Road and in all fairness, I'm not really on the road anymore, I'm just homeless. I even returned the Williams Cycling Van, m-m-m-my Sedona, yesterday in a symbolic gesture that signifies the end of my grand trip. I've been couch surfing back on the peninsula and although I've been having an awesome time bumming around and doing some of my favorite old rides this stuff doesn't make for the best reading. Its pretty much just: sleep in, go for an incredible ride, hang out with some friends, eat tasty meals, lather, rinse, repeat. Well, I feel like I just caught you up on two weeks of no posts. So that's good.

I'm finally breaking radio silence now in order to pass on a bit of good news: I'm the new NorCal/Nevada State Criterium Champion. Boom. I think I threw down one of the best attacks of my life the last time up the climb and it was good enough to separate from the field, sneak past Fabrice Dubost and Aaron Olson and nab what might be maybe my favorite win ever. Huge thanks are due to Fabrice who rode like a crazed animal in the break for almost the whole race which allowed me to sit in and save something for the finish. Ronnie Lenzi managed to snap a few great shots, but until I have her okay to post them here on the blog you can take peak at them on her site. Huge thanks also to Keith Williams who was manning the radio in his inimitable fashion. His solid advice with 1.5 laps to go, "YOU'VE GOTTA GET UP THERE! YOU'VE GOTTA GO!", by the last lap had devolved, as it always does, into some maniacal Keith-speak that is somehow exactly what I need to hear, "OH YEAH! YOU'RE ON THAT TRAIN, BABY! RIDE THAT TRAIN! RIDE IT!" He was kind enough to take a little video and post it to his blog.

As this long season draws to a close I've been feeling a little burned out and I'm absolutely overjoyed to grab one last, great win before I call it a year.

Ricketsauce!

My boy Rand Miller, AKA Rickets, AKA Ricketsauce, AKA Don Rickles, just crushed the Suisun Crit. Good old fashioned Massacre. I'll give you all the gory details later, but for now just marvel at these illustrations of domination. The first is him owning the soul of his breakmate. The second is a picture of him with a podium hooker. No, not from this race, but it's too good not to post.

Photo by Mark Nakamura

Feelin' the Birthday Love

I had an awesome birthday. Nothing epic or amazing, just a really solid day. I got up and walked the dog to a coffee shop and back and then went out and did one of my favorite rides in the area. Its a nice climb up into the foothills called Montebello, but at the top the road turns to dirt and runs along a ridge giving 360 degree views of the bay area. Awesome. Just awesome. Plus someone had written a marriage proposal on the climb. "Woman's name...will...you...marry me?" with a few hundred yards in between each. I guess writing your proposal on a steep-ass climb is one way to make sure you leave her breathless. I did forget to bring water and food and had to make a pit stop at a friends in Palo Alto, but that turned into a great little visit.

Then my darling mother, who fears no road, drove all the way down here to California from Idaho. We finally met up in the evening and went to check out some Friday night racing at Hellyer Velodrome, the local track. I've done some low key racing once, but I've never seen solid fields battle it out and its really something to behold. Local Legend Mike Hernandez was announcing the races and that guy is clearly out of his mind, but in the most entertaining way. I'm really glad we got down there to see some of that racing.

But beyond all that what really made it such a special day was all the love I got from friends and family. I know I'm a hard guy to get ahold of and I'm certainly not the best at keeping in touch, but you all took the time to send me some kind words on my b-day and it means the world to me. I can't thank you enough.

Birthday Cruise

Just headed out for a little spin with my best girl Miley. Sick wheels, huh?

Back to Bikes

Okay,

I wrote this post about a week ago now, but I've been away from the internet and kinda busy and stuff so I haven't been able to post it. I feel like a jerk. Here you people are taking time out of your busy lives to check my senseless ramblings and I've been keeping it all to myself. Part of the problem was that the house I was staying at didn't have internet, but thats not much of an excuse when every cafe, restaurant and taco stand has wifi these days.

Well heres that old post. I promise I'll get something else up here in the near future.


Whoooooeee.

I've been down in the bay for about a week now and I've been splitting my time between pondering my future and cleaning up wreckage left in the wake of the puppy I'm dogsitting. She's about the cutest thing you've ever seen, but turn your back for one second and she'll be gnawing through anything (and I mean anything) she can get her teeth on. I think my personal favorite was when she started taking books off the shelf and tearing through them. A voracious reader, perhaps? Don't hate me for that.

I also made my glorious return to NorCal racing by dragging my sorry self out of bed at 4:30 am on two consecutive days to hit the CalCup races in the delightful central valley. Saturday was a 22.5m time trial. I hitched a ride with my boy Mr. Pickles and we screamed out towards Knights Ferry, CA. We got there late. This is a leitmotif that you may see repeated throughout the CalCup. We had little time for warmup or any of that, but its hard to get fired up for a Velo Promo TT in the middle of nowhere on no sleep anyway. This is only the second TT of this length that I've ever done, so I'm still figuring it all out, but I was pretty happy with my ride. I got third, which sounds awesome until admit that I was 1:48 off the winning time and the two other people I was looking to beat flatted or soft-pedaled. Oh well. I'm happy to lose to Phil Mooney in a TT any day. The guy is a machine.

The next day was the dreaded Patterson Pass Road Race. I'd never done this race either and didn't really know what to expect. Turns out the course is one of the most challenging on the NCNCA calendar. I slept through my alarm and actually would not have gone except that I got suckered into giving a friend Alex a ride. He called me and woke me up to ask if I was having trouble finding his house. I jumped out of bed, threw my stuff in a bag and ran out the door. I had no time for breakfast or any other pre-race stuff you normally do. I had just enough time to get into my kit and pin a number on before the race started. The course climbs steeply almost from the gun and I was hurting immediately. I somehow managed to hang on over the climb and then had a rollicking good time on the descent. I knew I'd never make it over the climb with the group again, and honestly I didn't think I could ride 94 miles on that course with no breakfast and no fitness anyway, so I attacked like an animal at the bottom of the descent. I had heard the climb was nasty, but the rest of the course was rolling so I figured if I could get and hold a gap I might be able to hang in there. Well, turns out theres a second climb. I slammed myself into it and pretty much exploded, leaving pieces of myself all over the road. The last thing I remember is my teammate Greg looking over his shoulder at me with pity in his eyes as I was dropped like a sack of rocks.

Alex actually had a pretty impressive ride. He's a cat 4, but they did almost the same distance as the p/1/2s and he dragged himself around the course through the heat and suffering and managed a solid top 20. He could teach me a thing or two about toughing it out. Oh well. Some days you just don't have it.

Next weekend is a flat nasty road race and fast crit so I'm looking forward to that. I'm feeling a bit burnt out from the 3 months of travel and racing, but with a bit of luck I might be able to put together some decent rides.

Tam

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Thats the principle I was sticking to when I neglected to post to this thing for the past few days. Did it work? Have you missed me? Is your heart fond? Is that proper English? Fond sounds like frond and I'm struggling a bit as I picture your heart as a big palm frond. Its kind of romantic.

So I haven't been sleeping a ton. Is that a bit obvious?

Anyway, Nationals happened, but it didn't quite unfold like I had dreamed. I don't know how I expected to kill it in a hilly 100 mile race when I've spent the whole summer doing 90 minute flat crits, but I still feel a bit let down. I did not do nearly as well as I would have liked (and almost twice as bad as last year), but todays a brand new day and there's still a bunch of racing to do. I'm going to hold off on an official race report b/c I'm on a borrowed computer in a friends house and I need to help her pack for Europe (YAY!!!!), but I'll get some real reports down soon enough.

For the time being, I'm just going to relay a little anecdote about my triumphant return to California. After leaving Bend I was planning on kicking it in Hood River for a day or two of R&R, but someone (you know who you are) decided to screen my phone calls. I ended up driving a big 6 hour loop out of my way through Oregon. There were two good things that came of it: I got to see more of Oregon, which is beautiful, and I got to have a drink with an old friend of mine in Portland. She's figured out that she wants to work in the field of public health and she's taking classes, doing volunteer work and basically kicking butt and making it happen. Its really nice to see someone driven and dedicated and proactively chasing down their dream. Plus, she's awesome so it was great to just sit and chat.

I stayed at a friend of a friends place in Eugene that night and I can only describe the status of the apartment as utter squalor. It was like a crack-house without the crack, but hey, its better than sleeping upright in the van and worrying about the bikes getting stolen off the top while I half dozed. A brief, fitful night of sleep and I was back on the road. I cruised all the way back to the bay area, but apparently the bay was not as happy to see me as I was to see it. It was cloudy and cold (well, cold compared to the boiling heat of every other destination on the trip) and as I rolled down the window to pay the Dumbarton toll the putrid stench of the bay soured an otherwise scenic vista. I wrote it off and rolled up the window. Then, while navigating the streets of Menlo Park I was nearly rear ended...twice. But thats nothing. As I was taking the bikes off of the van an elderly woman starts screaming for help in a thick German accent. "Pleeez! Pleez! You muhst call ze Poliz!!!!" She kept screaming so naturally I called 911. I was trying to explain where I was and what was happening, but the lady pretty much grabbed the phone out of my hands. She was yelling that there were "crazy people" inside. I looked inside the building of what looked like a retirement living center and all I could see were some people singing karaoke in the lounge. Then a woman came out with a whistle or something official looking and I asked what was going on. She asked me and I told her the woman was calling the police and she got really angry. "NO NO!" and grabbed the phone back, hung up and returned it to me.

Turns out there were crazy people inside, but they belonged there. Yep, it was some manner of mental institution and the woman had somehow wandered outside and I was the first poor sucker she could yell to. The elderly German became very angry when the staff lady took the phone and actually started shoving her around. Luckily I didn't have to intervene as I was busy explaining to the 911 operator what the hell was going on. I was more than a little embarrassed to tell the lady that I had called 911 for a deranged lady because there were crazy people in a mental institution. Hopefully she had a good laugh about that. I for one was a bit shaken up. Its not everyday that a lady on the street screams for help and it sure does kick up the adrenalin. Plus, that was more or less the first contact with people after hours alone in the car so... yep, it was a bit jarring. Welcome back to California, Ryan.

I had a wonderful dinner with my dear friends and now I'm going to put my life in order and then take a little ride through my old stomping grounds. I'm really excited to be back here with my friends and my team and my favorite rides and I can't wait to get crazy in some local norcal races. Plus, the idea that I can stay in one place for more than a few days is actually sounding really nice right about now.

Pics and reports to come. Thats a promise.

Hey Fred...

Have you seen that banana I bought at Dairyland? Oh wait! There it is.

Star Power

Check out this strange and somewhat confusing commercial featuring my current teammates and personal hero Jono Coulter. "But Ryan," you're saying, "that commercial is long and poorly produced and the company that its promoting went under." That may well be, but its worth sitting through the rambling, disjointed narrative and jarring theme music in order observe the Webcor/AV riders gliding gracefully in formation like so many geese and to see Jono all done up pushing that cruiser around. Pure Gold.

Also, never fear. That company changed its name to Centerd and its now one of the top sites on the interwebs. I can only assume its due to the star power of group I'm now dubbing Jono and the Green Gliders. If you want them to feature in an advertisement for your company, please contact me directly.

Whoooooeeeeeeee! New Photos!

Hi Folks,

So I figured that after I spewed out such a ridiculously long and somewhat pointless race report I should also post some new (old) photos. A spoonful of sugar, right? However instead of taking hours and hours to put them in a blog post I just made a little Picasa album. Its on the right hand side of the blog (where everything else is too, silly). Yes, I know its really small. But if you click on it it should link to full size images. I haven't tested that, because I'm tired and I want to read my book before I go to bed. So if it works jump for joy, and if it doesn't just post a comment here and I'll see what I can do.

Its worth taking a look at 'em too. Some of those shots are real gems. Next mission: add some captions so you can tell what the hell you're looking at and figuring out how to rotate those oddballs so they appear right side up.

Yay pics!

Cascade Classic Report

This is the report I wrote for Webcor for Cascade. Let me warn you again, though numerous warnings appear in the body of the report: it is long. Too long, in fact, but whats done is done and I'm not editing it down just to save your eyes or your time or whatever. You're a big boy/girl now (probably) so you can decide how you want to dither away your precious minutes, and if reading silly race reports is how you want to do it, well, thats your own business. Enjoy! or something...

This is my race report for Cascade. It is really, really long. I won’t be offended if you don’t read it, I just want you to know what you’re getting into. I’d recommend you do yourself a favor and either just check cyclingnews, where you can read about people who actually did cool stuff in this race(as opposed to just suffering), or read the report from the Webcor Womens team. They laid the smack down on women’s pro cycling and I guarantee their report will be more uplifting than mine.
Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Stage One: Smith Rock Road Race.

The first stage was a “flat” 71 mile road race. I guess it was pretty much flat, save for one daunting(for me) climb and then the miles of false flat headwind that followed it. It got up to about 98 degrees for our race and the tempo matched the temperature.

But let me back up for a minute. I managed to miss registration, along with every other amateur cyclist from 3 states that I spoke with. I went to reg one day and there were 90 spots open, but I was late for dinner. When I came back two days later the 150 man field was full. I got on the waiting list with Fabrice, but they let in a couple of pro teams before us bringing the total field to 188. When I called two days before the race they told me not to even bother, but I’ve been planning to do this race all year so I was committed. Fredo and I did the 6hr drive from Boise and went straight to reg. They told us they couldn’t do a thing for us until reg officially closed at 8:30. So we unpacked our bags, took a little spin and then went back at 7:50. They told us it might actually happen, but we needed to be back at 8:30 on the nose. Just enough time to grab a burrito and make it back in time to hear that we were in! I worked late into the night getting my Giant into pristine condition and mounting my frame number in such a way as to comply with Rand’s high standards.

In the end I was up so late taping and trimming that damn number that I almost missed the start. We still had to swap cassettes and such before the race and when all was said and done we only got to the start with 15 minutes to go. That is not enough time for your average cyclist to get dressed, mix bottles, pump tires, load up with Powerbars and still have time to sign in and then find a bush, but this was not my first Rodeo. I had everything done in time to chill at the starting line and test my Spanish as Oscar Sevilla et al bantered back and forth.

The race was fast. Very fast. People were attacking from the gun and I spent the first 40k trying to find the front of the race. We’d be flying along at 35mph and then the whole field would slam on the brakes, make a 90 degree turn and then sprint back up to 35 as fast as possible. I may have feared for my life once or twice, but I am not a professional; no one is paying me to be
fearless and I have to scrub my own wounds.

A break did finally form at about 40k, or just before I got up front. This is not a coincidence. When a break does go, things will slow. It’s a rule. I saw some BMC rider wind up for a bridge attempt and I figured I’d give it a go. I tried to get on his wheel, but he was strategically ramping up to a full launch timed to slip him past the field right before a huge RV clogged most of the left lane. Like I said, he’s a professional and I am not. I braked, he flew. I think he was one of the few people who got up to the move. I tried a little attack after that, but it was all for show and I settled back into the pack.

And not a moment too soon. The climb, which was actually substantial in my book, was fewer than 5 miles out and I would not have recovered had I been trying to bridge. Steve Reaney of CalGiant attacked after me, and that effort cost him. He hit the climb right after his effort and couldn’t hold the pace. I did my best to stay up front and keep out of the red, but towards the top I started going backwards. Not tragically backwards, just sort of drifting back as lighter riders (and really, who isn’t lighter than me?) floated past. I stayed with the group, albeit towards the back, and then we were all strung out and flying through the feed zone.

Why do major races insist on putting feed zones on flat ground when they know the pack is going to be screaming through at over 30mph? I don’t know, but if you find out will you tell me? Some guy from the Cole Sports team was right in front of me and knocked every neutral bottle he reached for to the ground. A perfect 3 for 3. I almost nabbed the last one out of the air as he bobbled it (that’s how badly I wanted that water), but I was already cooking on the bike and couldn’t ninja it. I used my last bit of energy to shake my head at him as I came around.

The next part of the race was pretty vicious. Garmin or some team had missed the break (I think cal Giant missed out too) and they were leaving pieces of themselves and the field all over the road as they drove a mad pace over a false flat into a strong head/crosswind. The whole field was strung out single file, save for a few brave (or stupid) riders who were trying to move up. I was cooked from the climb, cooked from the brutal sun, and still simmering about the missed feed and it was all I could do to hang onto the wheel in front of me.

With maybe ten miles to go those teams realized that the race was up the road never to return and things finally slowed down. I was begging for water at that point and a few kind souls obliged. I managed to get back into the caravan for some neutral water, but at that point there were only about 4 miles left. Oh well. As we were coming into the finish some hometown heroes were getting ready to sprint for 25th place. There was no small bit of derision flung their way by real professionals, until Freddy Rodrigues went up front to give it a whirl. Funny, no one gave him any crap for sprinting for 25th, but that’s the way it goes. If you’re an amateur you get crapped on, and you only really deserve it 95% of the time. That’s just the way it is. I rolled it in with the main field for a very pleasing 115th. Ben JM won the stage in style with clean wheels and dedicated the win to Chris Hipp. Class all the way.

It turns out the wheel that I thought was “out of true” had a broken spoke and my brakes had been rubbing for who knows how long. After realizing that I didn’t feel so bad about rolling in with the pack. P.S. Winners avg speed was just shy of 30mph. Yikes.

Stage 2 : Three Creeks Road Race.

This stage was more of the same, except the climb didn’t come until the end of the stage and it was roughly a thousand times harder. That’s an estimate, and I’m not great with math, but you get the picture. I had gone to a local shop the day before to get the spoke fixed and try to figure out why I couldn’t shift into my 11. Seth, the wrench there, was about he nicest guy you could hope to find, but after about an hour and a half of work, changing out the cables and housing, 4 test rides and every other trick in the book he still couldn’t figure it out. He ended up charging me 5 bucks for the wheel and everything and wishing me well. When you’ve got one of the biggest races on your calendar the next morning you’re kind of at the mercy of the shop and they can really bend (haha that’s a pun!) you over. Having someone do his best to help you, and when that doesn’t work cut you some slack and let you off with a small bill and best wishes is like a blessing.

I showed up super early for stage 2 to let the pros at Shimano Neutral Support give it a whirl. I’d leave the bike with them, put on some kit and come back for a test ride, then sign in, then test ride, then mix bottles, then test ride. With about 7 minutes before the start the head honcho finally figured out it was a bad chain. Turns out a bad chain can keep you blocked out of the 11. Who knew? With no warmup and that same ultra-rushed feeling I rolled backwards on the course to the front of the pack and sat for less than two minutes before we were off.

Like I said, more of the same: a furious pace punctuated with heartstopping fits of braking and all out sprints back up to speed. This kept up for like 30 miles until we came to the feed zone. Let me tell you one nice thing about having a team and a car in the caravan. If you’re smart, you can get all the food and drink you need from the car and you never have to worry about the utter shitshow that is the 30mph feedzone. Not so for me, lone wolf that I am. I am at the mercy of the neutral feed, and often left to beg, borrow or steal a few drops of water to keep the legs turning.

Now Garmin is one of those teams with a follow car full of lots of tasty and refreshing treats. They decided to get all their feeding done before the feedzone and then attack the hell out of the pack as the rest of us poor devils were trying to get a drink. Again, the neutral feed was totally useless, and it was only a bit of luck and the good will of an ex-Webcor rider that saved the day. That’s right, Australia’s own Jono Coulter (now the swany for Bissell) looked up at just the right moment to see the look of despair on my face. Not a word was exchanged between us in that fraction of a moment. Our eyes met, I nodded, pleading and he whipped a bottle up slick as you please to save my race. It was maybe the smoothest handup I’ve ever gotten and all this at over 30 while the field was ripping itself apart. Jono, you’ve always been my friend. On that day you were my hero.

I was so happy to have a bottle that I almost missed the fact that the pack was splitting. I was a little too far back, having been futilely looking for a neutral feed and when the course made a 90 left it went form a headwind to a nasty cross and Garmin echeloned their whole team and started riding like there was some big, argyle lemonade stand just up the road. I was on a pro wheel (I won’t say form what team) and we were just a few feet off the back of the front group, so close we could have poked them with a long stick. But we were going hard out and not making up ground so he pulled off, leaving me to flail like ragdoll, killing myself and still unable to get across. I gave what I had but had to pull off too, only to see a group of 7 pros sprint across the gap.

The next 20 minutes or so were pure desperation. I got back in line with a group of maybe 20 or so guys who had been split off and we tried to keep cool, take pulls and catch back on, but it was a bit disorganized and the guys in the front group were not slowing. We finally caught back on, but we caught back on to the tail end of a strung out field and as we were trying to catch our breath the guys at the front were accelerating again. So that’s how it went for a while. It would get strung out, gaps would open that I’d try to jump around, and then it would slow down enough for me to rest for a sec, then they’d be attacking again and it would string out once more. That sucked.

I think a break finally got off and things let up. We actually chilled up the mid-course KOM (a true blessing) and then as we rolled into the town of Three Sisters things got nuts again. They had us do a totally loony series of 90 degree turns (maybe a dozen in all) that had the pack going like the slinky from hell. After 60 miles of kicking my own ass just to stay in the group the last thing I needed was a dozen hard our accelerations. I did make it through that chaos and was solidly in the group (quite an accomplishment at that point) when some knuckleheads crossed wheels and a ton of people hit the deck in front of me. I had to come almost to a complete stop to get around and as I tried to sprint back onto the tail end of the field I knew my day was done. I could see the final climb of the day looming in front of me and I figured then was as good a time as any to start riding my own pace. So that’s what I did.

The last climb was nothing if not painful. I can’t imagine what it was like up front, but at least they got it out of the way quickly, right? I was doing what I could to keep a good pace, ever wary of the time cut. I managed to beg some water off friends in the caravan as they came speeding by (you guys from Bobs-Bicycles were awesome and I thank you!). It was so hot that it felt like the skin on my arms was being cooked. I was swerving back and forth across the road to find shade. Truly brutal. I actually caught some people on the climb and made it with plenty of time to spare. I drank just about everything I could see and then begged a ride back to town with some kindly Z-Team folk.

Ouch.

Stage 3: Skyliners Time Trial.

This was perhaps the lamest race of my life. After my ride at the first stage of Nature Valley I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m actually a decent time trialist, but I hadn’t really been on the TT bike since then it was a tough argument to make with myself. I awoke feeling sick and totally drained form the day before. It was hard to eat and I was not feeling better as the start time drew nearer. I was all by myself for this one and had to do all those little things that need doing before the start without even a little bit of camaraderie to lighten the mood. I was not moving fast enough given how I felt and I ended up getting a less than stellar warmup.

I made it to the start gate on time and away I went chasing Ozzie Olmos from Cal Giant. I knew right away that it wasn’t going to be pretty. Then Jesse Seargent of Livestrong passed me about a minute into my TT. He passed me like I was standing still. That was a small psychological blow to accompany the physical pain I was already feeling. The course is just an out and back that goes up and up and up on the way out and then comes screaming back. I was just trying to keep a rhythm and stay close to Ozzie.

Then things started getting tough. I was feeling all sorts of bumps in the road, but when I looked down the tires looked fine and there were definitely bad sports in the pavement. I made it to the turnaround and something was definitely not right. However, instead of stopping and checking stuff out I just put my head down and flogged myself. I guess it sounds crazy to keep going when something is out of whack, but who stops to check out their rig in the middle of a TT? I got maybe a k down the road and realized that my front tire was dead flat. The only neutral was at the turnaround so I had to flip it and go backwards on the course, limping along and screaming for service. They got to me, got me a change in pretty good time, but after doubling back already I was in pretty deep trouble and I knew it.

I gave it everything I had. I flogged myself down that hill spinning away in the 56x11 and passed maybe 5 or 6 guys. It was awesome. I’ve never gone that fast in a TT and it was a rush. Alas, it was all for naught. I caught and passed F-Rod with less than a K to go, but that got me to thinking. Freddie had started a minute and a half behind me and he is not exactly known for his time trialing.

I kept up hope, but in the end I was pretty far gone. Freddie ended up getting time cut himself and I was almost a minute and a half behind him so you get the picture. That’s right, I got time cut for flatting in a TT. I actually emailed the race director and showed up early before the next stage (having done my race prep just in case) to argue my case with the officials, but they didn’t care. And like that, my race was done.

I was in a bit of a funk. Okay, I was heartbroken, but it never does any good to just sit around bumming out. Huxley once wrote that, “rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean,” and I try to remember that when I’m feeling down. So instead of pouting I floated the river on a beautiful Bend afternoon, drank a few beers, made some new friends and ate well. Turns out that’s exactly what I needed. Since then I’ve been doing some solid resting and some good training and just generally trying to get ready for Elite Nationals, which start this Thursday.

If you’ve actually read this far you are the true hero of the day. In fact, I should probably pay you as this writing has been wonderfully cathartic. I only hope that Webcor can rally and send a big team up here to wreck house next year. Oh wait! Webcor already crushed this race into tiny little pieces. Big props to the Webcor Women who dominated this race from start to finish and left everyone else asking for the plates of the big green semi that rolled through town and left utter destruction in its wake. Yes, they were that awesome.

If it weren't for bad luck...

I'd have no luck at all. You might have seen the results already, but in case you haven't let me save you the trouble: I got time cut. In a time trial. No, I didn't just have the worst ride of my life. I flatted. I had already made the turnaround, but had to flip it & go back out to the end to get neutral support.

I got up early this morning to go see if they would give me a pro-rated time & let me start, but they were pretty harsh. They wouldn't even give me any sympathy, let alone a pro-rated time. So here I am. I've got the legs up and some Joseph Conrad in hand & I'm going to try not to get too upset about the fact that I've DNFed every big stage race this year because of some bull$%@¤.

Oops

I guess I mentioned everything except how I finished. I was 115th to Floyd Landis' 116th. Nothing impressive about 115th, but I'm happy to have rolled it in with the field. Freddy Rodrigues, however, decided it would be honorable to sprint for 25th. I heard a JB guy yelling at other people moving up to sprint, but I didn't hear him say anything to F-Rod. Pretty classic double standard. Amateurs do get shit on, and we only deserve it 98% of the time. Fred had some trouble on the climb, and did a ferocious chase and he has earned the right to suffer again.

Thats one in the bag

Man oh man, was it ever hot out there. Seems like Fred and I take the heat with us wherever we go. I woke up feeling like a big bag full of mashed up... well whatever. We had to do some wrenching on the bikes, and I was not very efficient and it ended with us almost missing our start. We drove out there and only arrived maybe 15 minutes before the gun went off.

We were at the very back of the field and it took me about 30k or so before I even saw the front. By that time the break was up the road, and the group that bridged was getting antsy. I made one doomed attack and then sat back in. Thank goodness, because we were only a few miles from the climb and if I had attacked any later I would have been dropped for sure. Poor Steve Reaney found that out the hard way. I struggled up the climb and then some idiot from the COle SPort team had a major feeding fail and knocked 3 bottles to the ground right in front of me. With hands like that I can see why he's a cyclist and not, say, a pianist. I ended up riding almost the whole race with just two bottles. Doesn't sound that bad, except we were averaging almost 30mph in almost 100 degree heat.

I had no idea what happened until I just read the report because we rode straight back to the house and then couldn't find a ride back to the start because our phones were in the car. Awesome.

We're staying in a house that belongs to Freds roomates sister. The parents of the husband of aforementioned sister cooked us dinner and then gave us a ride to the car. All in all an enchanting evening...minus the two hours I spent in the bike shop trying to diagnose and fix A) a broken spoke and B) poor shifting. After two hours of me sitting on the floor like a tired dog (in fact there was a tired dog imitating me) the guy decided that the shifter is toast. This is not good, as I do not have the money or the time to replace a costly shifter. I plan to beg the Shimano guys for mercy tomorrow, but if that doesn't work... well people rode on 9 speed just fine for many years. Seth, the guy a the shop was awesome, actually. He tried everything from derailleur alignment to new cables and housing and when he couldn't fix it he hardly charged me a dime. Pretty rad.

So, I'm gonna hit the sack. Race report for Boise is coming I swear! Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll do it. Word is law.