My new frame is in!!!!!!!!

Race season is here. The annual season kick-off, Froze Toes, had its usual end of February date. Last year's weather related postponement was not an issue this year... or was it.

We woke up to an unexpected inch of snow on Sunday. Snow rested gently on trees and mailboxes and made for a very pretty scene. The conditions were not exactly very pretty for a race, however. The roads were free of snow, though, and the organizers said the race was on.

Good call on their part especially with the predicted sunny skies and mid-40 temperatures. The drive out to Columbia was gray and wet. I kept looking at the outer roads to see their condition and then looking to the sky for signs of blue peeking through the gray. Despite my best efforts of staring the clouds away, they hung low for the entire trip. Not to worry. There was still plenty of time before the race.

Registration was smooth and the even the installation of timing chips went nicely for a first time ever process.

Days like this are tricky. You don't want to dress for the current low 30's with clouds when the sun is going to come out and warm more than 10 degrees. Overdressing absolutely wipes me out. A decision had to be made. I brought four jerseys. If the forecast was going to be accurate I would only want to wear three jerseys during the race. There just didn't seem to be any chance that the sun was going to break out any time soon. I tried to compromise and wear all four jerseys but leave one unzipped. I slathered on some embrocation in the hope of keeping my troublesome thighs warm and loose. Ready to race, I crawled out of the car.

The parking lot was a slushy, gravelly mess. Basically, a flat tire waiting to happen. I carried the bike out to the road and began warming up. Brrr. This was going to be a chilly race until we got rolling.

Starting position can be a big part of this race when there are 80+ riders on a one lane road. Moving up takes a lot of patience and a little bit of aggression. Ten minutes before the first riders started gathering for noon start of the first race. I ducked into the driveway and lined up behind the first group and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.

The more we stood, the colder we got. The legs began to shake. The core began to cool. I reached in an zipped up the fourth jersey to try and conserve some warmth. Finally at 12:25, the first group rolled out. I am sure the officials had a good reason for the late start but that really sucked. On the plus side, they started the groups much closer to each other than in the past. By 12:28, we were off and racing.

The pace was above average from the start and my legs felt terrible. My muscles were stiff and shaky and had an altogether clumsy feeling. My goal in the early miles was to keep a reasonably decent position until the legs began to feel normal again. We zigged and zagged and crested one small rise after another.

The pace was still brisk as we turned onto Hwy DD and into more of a headwind. This was the time to start moving up. The legs started to come around and if there is anything to discourage hard riding it seems to be a headwind. The pack narrowed its formation a bit and made moving up the right side of the road a little easier. Slowly and surely, I worked up to about 20th spot about halfway down the road when the moment I had been waiting for happened. The whole right side opened up, almost inviting me to make my move.

The Ghisallo rider up front was setting a tempo and I just cruised right up the field. Fifteenth place... tenth... fifth... On the left of the field I could see another rider moving up right with me. We both came to the front at the same time. I tucked in behind his wheel and took over the pacemaking as he pulled off. I gave a little time into the wind and gave way to next man. This wasn't a hard attack but lifted the tempo and more than anything got into the race and much better position.

The race settled down for a couple minutes. I was feeling impatient and went again. A Ghisallo rider was on me pretty quick and the pack worked its way back shortly. The pace settled in again and I could see the highway getting closer. Jeff moved to the front and it was time to go again and this effort felt better. After about 10 seconds I looked back to see who was coming along and it was just me with a decent gap. A little excitement grew in me with visions of last year's breakaway but the fact that I was alone this time tempered my enthusiasm. This was going to be a tough effort if it was going to stick. The Master's were a little up the road and I held out some hope that maybe I could bridge the gap get some relief from the solo effort. I turned onto the outer road with a gap still holding but my progress toward the Master's stalled and eventually a Ghisallo rider again bridge up and eventually the whole pack.

I got lazy on the outer road and drifted rearward. The pack was much smaller than earlier in the race and I found myself at the back. We descended toward the first of the two hills on the outer road. Suddenly, we were touching the brakes just before the hill. Sometimes you can't help but shake your head and wonder what people are thinking. We crawled up the hill and made our way over a few rollers to the second hill.

At this point it was becoming clear how the race was developing. We were in the final five miles and no one seemed willing to make an effort. No one had gotten free and most of the folks that remained began thinking of their moment of glory and seemed unwilling to lift the tempo much. There were a few short surges but from the back of the pack, where I was stuck, nothing seemed very serious. The closer to the line we came, the slower we seemed to go. Finally, in the final mile or so, the pace began to lift. I sat back a couple bike lengths, knowing what was going to happen.

Things began to get cranking when I youngster from Clarksville, I think, decided the yellow line rule didn't apply to him. He was followed by one of the guys that he went by. Then another rider went over the line. That kind of crap ticks me off. The same Clarksville kid did the same thing on the back stretch and moved up many places with an attack across the yellow line. I understand the will to do well but you know what? You were in a crappy position for a reason. Just like me. You made your bed now lay in it. Do what you can to move but don't resort to cheating when everybody else is stuck in a crowded, narrow road. Hell, I would loved to launch another attack instead of being lodged in the back like I was.

The yellow line nonsense was the sign that things were going to get ugly soon. People were in full gallop and within seconds people were swerving and braking and sliding across the pavement.

I layed on the brakes and slid sideways past the initial incident when a couple more guys go sprawling into the opposite lane. Again, I swerve past them and manage to stay upright. I look to my left and two or three guys are even laying in the grass on the wrong side of the road. Calm was restored as quickly as it went haywire. I accelerated to get whatever position was available but it was only a half-hearted effort at that point.

Twentieth place.
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Observations:

• There seemed to be about 12 Mesa juniors in our field.
• While many pro teams (and Mesa locally) have moved toward white jerseys. The Revolution women's team have embraced the Men in Black (MIB) look. Or is it LIB, Ladies in Black.
• The timing chips worked pretty well. There were a couple oddities that were fixed easily enough. The elapsed times on the score sheet were nice to see. The biggest feature, in my mind, was the speed with which the results were posted.
• Aaro Froese in his porno-esque, leopard spotted robe was a sight to behold.
• My guess is most of the riders went home last night with the low, slow and droning refrain of "RETURN YOUR CHIPS" bouncing in their head after hearing it approximately 50 times.

I hopped on the trainer a little bit ago with the idea of riding lightly for just 30 minutes. The intent was to test my leg a little before the weekend and see how it feels. The fan was turned on and the pedals clipped in as I began to ride.

That's about as far as the ride went. That is an exaggeration but, at most, I rode for five minutes. Nothing hard. Nothing fast. Only turning the pedals.

Was the pain unbearable? No. Could I have kept riding? Absolutely.

Instead, I slid off the saddle and changed clothes without a drop of sweat being shed. I'm tired of not being able to pedal without pain. As I said, I could ride through the hurt but it is mentally fatiguing. It just wears you down and frustrates you.

Screw it! I would rather not ride tonight. Maybe tomorrow I will have a better attitude.

Yippee!!!  Missouri's Best All-around Rider no longer has to be from Missouri. 
 
In other world news: 
Cisco's employee of the month works at Microsoft.
Miss USA is Pakistani
Burger King has begun selling the Big Mac
Vegetarian diets are no longer have meat restrictions

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Random thoughts that have been going through my head the past few days:

1. The road (is that 109?) that passes in front of Babler Park is one of the worst in St Louis. The condition is surprising considering virtually every other road in that area is quite nice. Not only is the pavement poor but they have those ginormous, six foot long road grates that will eagerly swallow up the wheel of a bike.
2. As bad as the Babler road is, Kehrs Mill south of Clayton is even worse. North of Clayton, Kehrs Mill is fine. South of Clayton it is hole, crack, bump and poor patch job after another. Shame on the city of Ballwin.
3. Cancellara is a prologue beast.
4. Seeing two teams in the Tour of California, High Road and BMC, sporting black shorts is a pleasure.
5. On the other hand, BMC has a terrible jersey. Actually, the jersey design is okay but the red outlined letters of BMC completely invisible on television. It appears that the team is wearing generic white jerseys. Not good exposure for BMC.
6. Michael Ball is an ass but, unlike BMC, you can spot their kit a mile away.
7. How disappointing that Leipheimer selected that hideous US Champion jersey. That is so awful I think it might be the real reason that Astana has been refused entry to ASO and RCS races this year.
8. The descent of Mt Hamilton in today's stage looked like amazing fun.
9. Today's winner... Robert Gesink??? Excuse me. I was familiar with Gesink's name but had no clue he could climb like that.
10. I felt sorry for Gesink in the break with Leipheimer. Leipheimer is about as big as an 8th grader. Gesink and his longeline frame must have been struggling to find a draft off Levi.
11. Zabriskie had a really good day in the mountains.
12. Hincapie had a teriffic descent of Mt Hamilton
13. The fact the Rubiera nearly had to retire because nobody was offering him a contract this winter is a joke. The guy is a first rate domestique. He was a horse in leading the chase of Hincapie after Mt Hamilton and then single-handedly blew the lead group to pieces on the first half of Sierra Rd.
14. When did Cancellara learn to climb well enough to finish in a select group of 16 riders?
15. My sentimental favorite is local boy Mike Lange. He struggled a bit today but is doing well and sits in 34th place about 10 minutes back.

Concerns about cinder covered roads in IL caused a change of plans for Saturday's ride. Kirkwood was the new starting point. All the muscle soreness that has been plaguing me went away last week. All the normal soreness, at least. It started to become clear that I strained or pulled my upper thigh muscle in both legs.

Most normal movements cause no problems but kneeling down or getting up from a kneeling position takes a little bet of caution. If I move to quickly, or incorrectly when making that kind of move, the muscle really bites and pulls.

I found this out Wednesday evening. I had been feeling good up to that point. I flopped down to the floor on my knees without much thought and a second later I was writhing on the floor trying to not let the expletives fly. It felt like I pulled the muscle right off the bone and was left to pull myself up on the couch to get off the floor. The initial pain eased but it still hurt the rest of the night. Amazingly, the pain was mostly gone after a good nights sleep.

Back to Saturday... I rode out to Kirkwood as usual. Unlike last Saturday, this week I could actually get out of the saddle.. But, just like a kneeling motion, pedaling out of the saddle caused a pulling feeling. Starting from a stop or slow roll created a similar feeling, even if it was done in the saddle. There was no acceleration in my game.

I arrived in Kirkwood pretty much right on time. Naturally, no one was there. I circled around. And circled around. And circled around. The more I circled around, the more I grumbled about no one else having showed up yet. Grumble, grumble, grumble. Suddenly, I remembered that the ride was leaving from Kirkwood Park and not Meramec CC. Awww, crap! To top things off, just as I reached the park, my rear tire went flat. Aaarghh! I had just replaced that tube Friday night. The tube lasted an impressive 7 miles.

Once everyone was gathered, we had a little different dynamic than past Saturdays. Derek and Cooper graced us with their presence. The change of location must have been why.

I had not ridden out in Wildchesterwoodfield in probably two years. The land of nouveau mansions and fancy cars continues to grow and change. That area has changed SO much since I started racing in '93. There is some nice riding out that way but I can't say I really missed the area either.

With the hills we were going to encounter I decided to warn Patrice that I may bail out early if the pain was more than I wanted to deal with. The first good sized hill we encountered was Ries Rd and that was almost the last hill for me. After half the hill, I began to drift backward and was left to just try and keep the others in sight. I hurt and felt there was no power in the legs. Just as frustrating was seeing just how easily the others rode away and knowing that I would normally be right at the front.

Once I descended Ries there was no point in turning back at that point because climbing Ries from that side is most unpleasant. At least this way, I had a nice flat section along Kiefer Creek. We turned up St Paul and the suffering began again. At that point, I had gotten fed up. I grimaced and increased the cadence to try and catch Patrice and Ken and it actually didn't hurt quite as much. Once I caught and passeed them, they countered me after a few seconds. I had nothing in response but I felt better about myself after bridging up to them. I rode the hill up to Ridge in a more controlled manner for some recovery. Next up was Melrose. Again, I tried to stay within myself and got up the hill okay. Then it was down Ossenfort and up Hardt where I pushed a bit harder before having to back off on the upper section. Next up was Orville. Down into the baby gear. Orville hurt. I had no intention of prolonging the pain and lifted the tempo. Patrice served as a nice carrot and helped to distract me from how I felt. We reached the top together and kept going along the twisting rollers. Orville is a fun road. The light was at the end of the tunnel when we began heading up Valley toward Clayton. I sat on Ken's wheel and followed his tempo. Not sure why but the others were well off the back as we reached the top.

At this point, I was satisfied with my ride. While the others stopped for a coffee in Ellisville, Ken and I continued back home although we were somewhat improvising a route. We kind of stumbled upon Ries again and rode back toward Valley Park. By the time we reached 141 I was approaching a mini-bonk. I took no food and had drank about a half bottle. I told Ken I needed to head home through Fenton instead of going up toward Kirkwood. The rest of the way was slow but steady.

The question now is, how much can my pulled muscles heal before Froze Toes.

A humorous blog post.

White folks and bikes

ASO can go take a flying leap in a steaming pile.  They have announced that Astana will not be able to race in ANY races organized by ASO.  No Paris-Nice.  No Criterium Int'l.  No Paris-Roubaix.  No Fleche Wallone.  No Liege-Bastogne-Liege.  No Paris-Tours.  No Tour de France.  Quite possibly the strongest team in pro cycling will eliminated from most major races this season. 
 
Congratulations ASO.  You drove a seemingly untainted ProTour team, Unibet, out of cycling last year by refusing to let them race.  What are the chances of Astana staying around next year, or even finishing this year.  The formerly scandalous, and now scandal-less team, has completely restructured itself with new management, testing procedures and riders.  That makes sense.  Punish the innocent.  The ASO has gathered too much influence of cycling and needs to be knocked down a few notches.  ASO's rumored purchase of the Vuelta will only exacerbate the problem.
 
The UCI seems incapable of controlling them, so I'm not sure what step should be taken.  Ideally, the teams or riders will band together and put the brakes on ASO's bullying.  Unfortunately, the team and rider organizations seem weak, ineffective and able present a defense about as effective as the Maginot Line.
 
The writing is on the wall.  High Road will not be invited to the Tour either.  Who is going to stand up put an end to the nonsense.  The UCI is far from perfect but they at least try and instill some type of organization into the sport.  Imagine the American League Central Division refusing to allow the NY Yankees to play in their stadiums. 

from Velonews:
 
"Some suggestions hitting the rumor mill are that any team with a hint of scandal from 2007 will not be welcome back to the Tour this year. That list is said to include Rabobank, Astaná, Cofidis, High Road (ex-T-Mobile) and Saunier Duval as well as Lampre and Liquigas."
 
Hell, if the determining factor is going to be a "hint of scandal" they will need to include Caisse d'Epargne and Quick Step as well.  Lotto had Luekemans test positive last year.  ASO will have to exclude them, too. 
 
Regardless, if the story is accurate, keeping 40% of the ProTour out of the TdF is ridiculous.  Agritubel can be thrown into the mix but they would have made the cut as a wildcard anyway.  What a quandry for ASO!  They don't want good teams to participate despite good faith efforts to clean up their teams and there are no Frenchies to replace them.  Maybe ASO will only invite 12 teams.  Yeah!  That's it!
 
Slipstream seemed about a 90% chance of being selected anyway but this seals the deal. 

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What's right with pro cycling continued

Free - You can't go wrong with watching the best riders in the world and not having to pay a dime for a figurative seat on the 50 yard line. Any average Joe with the desire to see a race up close only needs to be able to get to the race site on time and he will have one killer roadside seat and not pay a dime.

"Arenas" - No other sport has more varied and stunning locations for it's competitions. Wimbledon? Wrigley Field? Give me a break. Stand roadside on the Tourmalet, Galibier, Izoard, Giau, Fedaia or Stelvio and you cannot help but stare in awe at your surroundings. The race coming by is icing on the cake.

Weekend Wrapup: By Friday my muscle soreness had "improved" to the point of being able to do a half squat and gingerly go down steps with the help of a handrail. That was good enough for me to try and do the Saturday ride.

I had no idea what to expect but hoped to get even a short ride under my belt. Giuseppe and Marco showed some mercy toward me and stayed away from the hills. From the moment we started rolling, every pedal stroke brought discomfort. Every single one was bone gripping tightness. I gritted my teeth and soldiered onward towards Maeystown.

Getting out of the saddle to pedal was completely out of the question. I planted my arse in a poorly adjusted saddle and spun as good a gear as I could turn over. This was no masterpiece of ride but I did okay and tried to take a fair share of turns at the front. Riding back into the parking lot was a moral victory.

Sunday I gave my legs a chance to recover and they responded nicely. My flexibility showed marked improvement and I was actually able to jump. Well... jump may be a generous description but there was air between the soles of my feet and terra firma. There is still some tightness but I see the light at the end of the tunnel.
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The winter cannot end soon enough. Messageboards that I frequent to kill time are mind numbingly boring these days. The mid-winter doldrums have set in. The posts range from political talk on one forum to complaining about drivers on another. And don't forget to wear your helmet....zzzzz!

Too often these days the sport of professional road racing makes headlines for all the wrong reasons. Trials, suspensions, fighting organizations all assault the cycling fan on an almost daily basis. Even the biggest fan tends to question their devotion to the sport.

With that in mind, I decided to create a list of what is right with the sport. I present my list of things, places and other sundry items that make the sport better than any other.

What's good about pro cycling?

Arenberg Forest - Is there a more well-known and historic, yet feared, stretch of road in cycling? 2.4km of pave torture that begins the selection process at Roubaix. The Forest of Arenberg is the fiery home of Beelzebob in the Hell of the North. That last sentence was a little Bobke imitation.


Muur Kapelmuur (Muur van Geraardsbergen/Mur de Grammont) - The hill has different names depending on your heritage but it is always steep and cobbled. The Muur IS Flanders.


Monte Paschi Eroica - In a time when much of the sport is becoming more and more formulaic and robotic, the Italians unleash an old school neo-classic, the Monte Paschi Eroica. A hilly ride through Tuscany on the famed gravel or crushed stone roads known as the strada bianca.


to be continued...

My new rims arrived Wednesday morning. Black, dimpled sweetness!

The most unfortunate cycling shorts in the Pro peloton this year may well go to Team Flaminia.  Put on your protective eyewear and click the link.
 
http://83.103.123.29:8080/teamflaminia/admin/foto/interne/estese/1/2.jpg

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Few things humble a person as much as trying a new activity for the first time.  Last night was one such occasion.  I took my finely tuned, cycling specialized body to a plyometric and core strengthening class.  I am riding fairly well these days.  Well enough to challenge your average 60 yr old grandma with arthritis.  Given that level of fitness you would think the legs would be strong enough to withstand a workout focused on the legs.  
 
After about 10 minutes it became clear that this class was going to be painful.  This morning I am hobbling around like I had an unfortunate meeting with Kathy Bates.  The jumping, leaping and hopping has left my thighs and butt a quivering mass of soreness.  I think the class clearly has benefits.  I'm not sure this is the ideal time to be starting the workouts but, if I can walk normally again by Thursday, I think I will give it another shot.

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Many years ago I would regularly ride out west of town on the weekends.  One of the small pleasures of the those roads was a return trip on Clayton Rd.  The road itself was not a pleasure but we had a habit of passing a Chili's restaurant around noon.  The smells emanating from the restaurant always smelled so good when you were tired, hungry and nearing the end of a long ride.
 
There is a distinct absence of restaurants along the way on our rides in Columbia and JeffCo.  However, this past Sunday I was treated to an olfactory orgy of smells.  The wind must have been blowing in the right direction.  I was first treated to the smell of baking pizza from Smugala's.  A little further down Lindbergh the smell of Chinese food blew my way.  My nose finished it's trip around the world with the wafting scents of Fresh Mex from Chevy's.  You can't complain about finishing a ride like that.

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I had little confidence in the Illinois road crews to clean the quiet roads of Monroe Country by Saturday. Riding in the afternoon, when the temperature were due to warm up, was not an option. These were conditions for getting intimate with the trainer. I popped in a tape of the '07 Tour and watched as they rode through the Maurienne valley, up the Telegraphe and Galibier and down to the finish in Briancon. Good racing action that made for a pleasant 2:15 ride with a mix of 5 and 10 minute intervals.

This morning we had our standard 8:30(?) start. The temperatures were a bearable upper 20's but the high humidity made it feel a bit cooler. Hanging around a parking lot for 30 minutes does not help a person's warmth either. Once we began rolling my hands, which felt okay on the ride out to Kirkwood, were suddenly spirit-breaking, painfully, teeth-grindingly, cold. More than once I considered riding home rather than continuing the suffering. I desperately need some warmer gloves.

I kept telling myself that the digits would warm up once we found a good uphill. The hills finally came and the fingers found some warm blood coursing through them. Unfortunately, they warmed up quickly and then hurt from warming up took quickly. My fingers felt like they were going to explode but my body found a nice balance by the time we reached Haute Arrete.

The rest of the ride was quite enjoyable. When the effort was put forth, I went pretty well. I was satisfied.
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Today's photo is of the atrium at my work. The early morning lighting added a nice feature.