New Tools to Make Me a Crusher

Christmas came early this year and I've managed to get my hands on two pretty sweet little gizmos that are going to help turn me into a true European hard man. First up is the newest supercomputer to hit the roads from GPS manufacturer Garmin: the Edge 800. Yup, this is the same Garmin that sponsors that one team with all those quick guys, including the fastest firecrotch in cycling, and one of the sprinters I admire most, Mr. Tyler Farrar. I don't know if those dudes helped Garmin design the 800, but it's pretty much the most powerful tool you could have on your handlebars, and it's smaller and lighter than older models, but with a bigger screen. Did I mention it's a touch-screen? Take that, iphone! I didn't want you anyway! Seriously though, this rig can tell me everything I ever wanted to know about my ride and then some, not to mention it has the power to keep even me from getting lost. There are only two drawbacks. First, Garmin has some pretty glaring errors in the manual that border on criminal false advertising. Hey, nobody's perfect, and I'm in contact with them to resolve the issue. The second drawback is that the 800 is clearly smarter than I am, and I feel slightly threatened by it. Sometimes I feel compelled to shout out trivia to show it I'm not just a big pile of meat. If you want to read in painful detail about all the features, some tri dork did a write-up that borders on obsessive. Don't say I didn't warn you.

(The next little doodad is really freakin' cool! To set the mood get this very fitting, classic track from Peter Gabriel bumping in the background. Note: MARC PRO not for use on monkeys.)

I also managed to get my hands on a new MARC PRO unit. Right about now you might be asking yourself, "what the hell is a Marc Pro?" Well, this is a MARC PRO: The sleek piece of technology you see pictured is an amazing device intended to speed recovery of muscles after strenuous workouts. The MARC PRO has been developed by the same people who designed and perfected the H-Wave medical device over the last 3 decades. You can cruise on over to H-Wave.com to get all the juicy, technical details behind the science of this product, as well as links to dozens of studies showing its benefits. Be sure to take a look at the list of over 40 professional sports teams that have used the MARC PRO, like the Lakers, 49ers and US Postal. The MARC PRO uses H-Wave technology, but is designed to be powerful and portable for elite athletes. MARC stands for muscle actuated recovery cascade, and PRO is short for professional, because nothing is more professional than having a tricked out, futuristic machine zap your legs fresh while you watch Kenny F*&$in' Powers scream around on his leopard-print jetski. Hell yeah.

How does it work? Well, the MARC PRO uses ultra low frequency stimulation to create comfortable yet strong muscle contractions that increase circulation and enhance fluid movement which aids in healing. The increased circulation and fluid movement are benefits that one would experience during exercise, but because the stimulation is passive there is no resultant muscle tear or degradation. SWEET! I just got this puppy the other day, so after I electrocute myself for a few days I'll be sure to let you know how it's going. There are only two rules: don't place the electrodes on the front and back of your chest, and don't pass current through your brain. So super intelligence is out, but I bet I develop legs like Steve Austin. Check out the MARC PRO in action and be sure to head over to the MARC PRO website when it gets up and running.

Awesome! ProTour here I come!

Portland, Fare Thee Well

Whew! Portland is rad. The city is vibrant, the surroundings are beautiful, and the racing is fierce. I could totally live there. Well... I could live there except for the soul-crushing rain and gloom that seem to hang eternally over the city. Talk about a wet blanket. But not for me, no sir! The weather, although painfully cold (see Phil in Everest expedition wear), was mostly dry and we even saw the sun for a few minutes. That bit of sunshine really sealed the deal for me and I'm happy to pronounce Portland one of my new favorite cities.
Now, I don't know why, but every trip I take, be it for business, pleasure or some mixture of the two, ends up being a culinary tour. Portland was no different. That first Friday we headed into Chinatown and went hog wild at a dim sum restaurant. Keith overcame a very rational fear of Asian cuisine after a rough run in with some undercooked lamb during a business trip to Taiwan. Well, it could have also have been the lobster blood soup, but that's beside the point. We got the authentic dim sum experience in a little corner of Portland with steaming carts of unidentifiable dishes being swooshed our way. The waitstaff would ply us with all manner of dishes, but were unable to communicate in English exactly what was in them. Like I said, Keith was brave and we got our fill of strange and sometimes wonderful Chinese food.Dinner that night was slightly less exciting. We went to the HUB, a cycling themed brewery and grill, for number pickup (which wasn't there in the end) and I fought off the urge to temp fate with the "DNF Calzone" and instead went for an equally gut busting salad.

A true cyclocross race has a magical carnival atmosphere, and what carnival would be complete without food vendors? The heartland of CX is Belgium, and thus the quintessential 'cross treat is Belgian frites, aka freedom fries. I had mine with spicy fry sauce and garlic mayo, which could have been part of the reason I didn't get better acquainted with the female population of Portland.

Other culinary highlights included an amazing meal of fidelio with scallops in squid ink and pig served three ways (bratwurst, sausage and pig belly) pictured below. You can tell it's a classy restaurant because it's so dim, errr, romantically lit. After stuffing ourselves with a most exquisite dinner we thought it best to get back to basics and headed to to find the world famous Voodoo Doughnuts. There was a half hour wait just to get in the door, but it was worth every second. I ended up opting for something called the "Old Dirty Bastard" and in keeping with the dim sum theme I could not identify exactly what was on it, but I can assure you it was delicious and fattening. Keith opted for the "Cock and Balls" and Mooney was the true winner with his "Bacon Maple Bar." That one is exactly what it sounds like. The rest of that Saturday night was pretty uneventful except for the part where Phil crashed a black tie wedding in a fancy hotel, but that's another story.

And wait, I swear there was more to this trip than eating! We were also up there to schralp the rad in some gnar gnar 'cross races. So how did it go? Before I give away the punchline let me remind you of two things. First: I suck at 'cross. Second: I was equipped with a super secret set of prototype carbon 'cross tubulars courtesy of Williams Cycling. There was some question as to how these wheels might affect my performance. I'm happy to report that far from DNFing as I had in all previous west coast races I managed to roll into a very respectable 5ht place. Considering I started at the ass end of 75 riders I can only assume that these wheels are worth ~70 spots in a race. Now I should state (and here I'm bracing myself for the digital boos) that I was racing in the B's race and not the UCI Elite category, and I don't know what the conversion is between Bs and Elite. Those same wheels could only be worth 10 spots in an Elite race. Before you rain down your ridicule understand that they don't let you register day of for Elite races, so my choice was between racing B's or having driven 10hrs through a snow storm to eat frites and shiver. I chose to race. It was a total blast, I only crashed once and I got really muddy. Also, those wheels are insane. Not only are they light, strong and stylish (hello, horsehair weave!) they are one of the few cross wheels in the world set up for disc brakes. I'm already scouting out a frame that's disc brake compatible so I can take full advantage of those babies! Some of you might be wondering what a guy does to salvage a bike that filthy. If you're rich you pay these guys $3 to power wash it for you. If you're me, you take it back to the hotel and spend 20 minutes with a hose better suited for watering pansies, racing the clock to see if you can clean your bike before your hands go completely numb.

This was truly an epic trip, and although the drive back was one of the gnarliest of my life (4 hours of pounding rain through foggy mountains with standing water on the freeway until 3am) I'm going to fondly remember this little jaunt to Portland for the rest of my life. I think the best part of the whole shebang was getting to spend some real time with Keith Williams. Keith has got to be one of the kindest, most honest and good-natured people on the planet. He's been something of a cycling godfather to me since I began racing seriously, and it was a gift to be able to spend some solid time with him and get to know him on a deeper level. The man is pure gold. I count myself lucky to have him as a friend.

Lest I get too sappy, in the spirit of friendship I present to you a video of me heckling the hell out of Keith during the muddy motocross portion of Saturday's race:

The 'Cross Diaries: Portland, baby!

I'm a road racer. If I'm riding in mud it usually means I've blown off the course and I'm about to crash. That's why it's still incredibly strange to me that people choose to take almost perfectly good road bikes and thrash themselves around on muddy singletrack for an hour. But that's what cyclocross is.

For those of you out there who haven't heard of this crazy cyclocross thing I'll try to quickly break it down for you. The event its raced on slightly modified road bikes. Almost everything is the same, except the bike has cantilever brakes to allow for slightly wider, knobier tires. A typical race is multiple laps on a 1-4 mile course and lasts 1 hour. Unlike a sane person's road course, a CX (short for cyclocross) course is a wacky mix of paved road, dirt road, singletrack, mud pits, sand pits, grass tracks, and small ponds. Then you toss in a few barriers that must be jumped over on foot or pitches too steep to ride. It's absolute lunacy. The best part is that you start with up to 150 guys at the same time on a course that quickly narrows to the width of one rider. You start by sprinting out of the gate and then you go as hard as you can until you completely explode or crash out of the race. They say you can tell a CX racer because they'll have mud on the down tube and puke on the top tube. It could also be blood on the top tube.

So, why would anyone participate in a sport so dangerous and crazy? Because it's about the most fun you can have on two wheels. It's an excuse for grownups to go play in the mud, and hundreds of people come out to drink, spectate and heckle the riders. It creates a sort of raucous, beer-soaked tailgating atmosphere with cowbells ringing and colorful epithets flying through the air. Frankly, the 'cross scene makes a road race look like an accountant's convention in a Holiday Inn Express. Well, maybe that's a bit harsh, but you get the point.

I've decided to toss a little 'cross racing into my winter training this year to add some intensity to my schedule and to practice crashing gracefully. So far I've gotten more intensity than I bargained for, but my crashes have been anything but graceful. My finest moment thus far was when I failed to unclip from my pedal in time and ran full steam into a staircase. Awesome.

This weekend I've traveled up to sunny Portland, Oregon with P Money Mooney and Keith Williams to see if I can't outdo myself at the USGP of Cyclocross. So far it looks like the odds are in my favor, as the course presents seemingly endless opportunities for me to crash in the most spectacular fashion. There are the off camber downhill turns, puddles with steep banks and submerged rocks, slick-as-snot hidden tree roots and, best of all, the huge mud-covered whoop-de-doos. These whoop-de-doos are literally unrideable sections on a rain-soaked motorcross track that have degenerated into mud pits a foot deep. And this part of the course really is unrideable, unlike the muddy run-up earlier on the course. No sooner had I finished declaring that run-up certifiably unrideable than a female racer from the Luna team came riding past me looking as though she were on a Sunday spin. That, my friends, is humiliating. But I think that's part of why I find myself coming back to this ugly stepchild of a sport that has shown me little but scorn. After all the countless hours I've spent training to be a cyclist it's fun to get back on a bike and feel like a total beginner again. I get to flail and crash and generally suck, and it's liberating to be out there blasting around with no pressure, no expectations and no skill. For a roadie like me 'cross also serves up a healthy helping of humility, and it's important to get a little taste of that every now and then lest I forget my place in this big world.

Here are a few shots of the drive up (we hit a blizzard), lunch in Chinatown, and the carnage after our course preview.


Like I said, I'm up here rocking around with Keith, who has done the lion's share of driving so far in his tricked out Williamsmobile. He's also pimped my 'cross ride with some high tech prototype carbon 'cross tubies. Without those bad boys I'm pretty sure I'd be last, so after tomorrow we'll be able to count backwards and tell you just how many spots a pair of tricked out Williams wheels will net you in a race. Wish me luck! If I'm still alive tomorrow evening I'll hit you with some good pictures and better stories.