Friday Ramblings: Thursday's thoughts.

Here are some of my random, nearly incoherent thoughts on tonight's workout. As usual, the Thursday night sprints at Hains:

If you don't know it's a DEAD FLAT loop. There was a tailwind tonight, so during a warm-up lap with Colin, he joked about trying to hit 40 miles per hour in the sprints.

I rode 13 laps at hains tonight. My max speed was 37.7 mph.

Holy hell, that's mighty quick for a flat sprint. And my biggest gear is a 50x11.

My boy Drew Wisniewski, also known as D-Wis, won that particular sprint. Later in an email I told him my max speed, and he told me:

"The sprint was more like a gap fest. Literally at the end of the sprint there were massive gaps. Then I think everyone went home. Legit... went straight home. I took it very slow with Bruce and Daniel. think i even stopped for a bit. There was no pack period, following that lap."

Things were quick, as usual.

In a totally separate thought, if you're in the middle of a sprint behind your best guy, don't be too nice to your other teammates and try to let them get in between you and your best leadout man. Most likely, if they're already wheelsucking, they're also sucking wind.

Note to self: Never, ever give up Drew Wisniewski's wheel, even to a teammate.

My max heart rate for tonight was 190. Not as high as I would have expected for the suffering.

You know it's a tough night at Hains when Dan Drumwright (R1V) turns to me and says, "Is that guy crazy? He keeps attacking. Is he time trialing away from us?"

That guy is Tim Rugg, from the Bike Rack.

Tim Rugg is like the Claudio Chiapucci of MABRA Cat 4s. I hope that makes some sense.

You thought Drumwright liked attacking? Heh.

In 1992, when Armstrong soloed to a world championship victory, Claudio Chiapucci tried to bridge up at the end. The commentator said, "Chiapucci burying himself yet again... This is just the opportunist sort of riding that Claudio Chiapucci is known for. He and Armstrong would make a fine pair on a team. You'd never know what on earth is gonna happen between the two of them, always ready to throw down the gauntlet."


(Skip to 5:10 and watch the rest of the video.)

That sums up Dan and Tim, too. Those two guys made races like Ft. Ritchie a race, not a group ride with a finish line.

Yes, Dan, he is nuts and he's fast. So are you.

I'm no Nostradamus, but Tim and Dan won't be Cat 4s much longer.

On to other things. The bugs at Hains point really suck. My left eye is totally red and I was wearing glasses all night. I swear a dozen bugs fell out of my hair when I shampooed.

More significantly: exactly one year ago tonight, I met a guy named Dave. He was lying on the grass next to a sign post, his mangled bike was a few feet away. It was an interesting way to meet a guy.

An idiot pulling hard off the front of the group cut left, straight into Dave. Dave went flying into the sign post and broke his leg in two places.

Dave, now a teammate who I've learned a lot from, was not at Hains tonight. I'm sure it was on his mind, though. In just one year, Dave's gotten back up to speed, and I've enjoyed the couple hundred miles that we've ridden and raced together.

Tough as nails, Dave.

A lot of people ask me why I ride in such a reckless group every week. I ride because it's fast, and unpredictable. It's just like the worst Cat4 race ever.

One day you can be sh*t hot, the king on turd island.

Another day you can suck wind.

Hains is reckless, and dangerous, and total mayhem on bicycles. Hains, on any given Thursday evening, can be more dangerous and much faster than any Cat4 race you can ever enter.

Sounds like pretty good practice to me. But if I'm at Hains, I'm either AT the front, or off the back with my health in mind.

During one of my last few laps, about eight of us got off the front. The group disappeared behind us. I eventually dropped our little breakaway, which splintered to bits.

Ahead of me, I saw Tim Rugg, looking back every few seconds. He'd dropped the group a few laps before this, but saw me coming balledak.

Balledak means full gas. You'd know that if you'd read Lance's first autobiography.

Tim cranked up the pace, as if I had a chance. I was way far back, no way.

Tim and his other Bike Rack teammate were still good motivation. They were a carrot in front of the donkey. I was the donkey, having dropped 7 guys and now, still hammering, for nothing but a white line painted on the road. The white line means nothing here.

But sometimes, for our egos, a line on the road means everything.

My legs hurt.

I got to Catherine's and felt like I was in major sugar withdrawal as I walked into the shower. I was bonking, washing the sweat and bugs out of my eyes in the shower.

Tough night.

Which brings me to the song of the night, taken totally out of context:

I hold on so nervously,
To me and my drink.
I wish it was cooling me,
But so far, has not been good.
It’s been shitty...

"Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven

Since I'm not racing BikeJam/Kelly Cup, I have one heck of a weekend of riding planned. On Saturday I'm doing a 3-hour jaunt with some of the NCVC 4/5s. On Sunday a bunch of us are heading out to the Murad and Poolesville courses. That'll be a long ride, but I convinced the group to stop at Uncle Charlie's for some pit BBQ. It's something to look forward to while grinding out the pedal strokes with da boyz.

Good stuff tonight guys. Honorable mention for Jen Cheng for hangin' tough in there tonight. Thanks for reading through this very, very rambling journal entry, but I'm too pooped and lazy to write well.

My legs hurt. It feels great. It feels like I worked hard. That's gratifying. See you on the road, or at least next Thursday.