GamJams Reviews: Roadside Inflation - Innovation Air Chuck

I have a pretty convenient system for roadside inflation.


I have an Innovations Air Chuck CO2 adapter that I use with threaded 12 gram CO2 cartridges. Most CO2 inflators are bulkier than this one. The Air Chuck is darn near microscopic, so as long as you don't lose it in your saddle bag, it's hellishly convenient. It only has a few parts so it's pretty durable and you can basically put it back together yourself if it comes apart.

I like CO2 for the convenience of a quick inflation. If you're on a normal ride, a 12 gram CO2 cartridge will fill up your 700c tire to about 90 PSI. That's more than enough to get you home safely, although not necessarily ideal for cornering at speed. For a light guy like myself, though, that's all I need to be able to get back on the bike quickly. I'll generally carry one cartridge in my saddle bag and another in my jersey if I'm feeling unlucky or going over rough roads.

When I ride alone or on unusually sketchy terrain, I make sure that I also bring a long a mini pump. My mini pump is nothing special, a Blackburn I think, and now that I have a cadence magnet I can't attach it to the frame so I carry it hanging halfway out of my pocket. It rarely bothers me. Since I have CO2, I coordinate with my riding buddies so that we don't have too many mini/frame pumps.

Prepping for the Barn, Round 4

This weekend I'm heading out to the barn with a bunch of folks - all of us are GW Cycling alumni although many of us ride or have ridden with local clubs as well. In fact, five of us ride for NCVC and we've got one girl from CycleLife tagging along, too.

The Lost River Barn is a great little place. Without generous folks like Jay Moglia, a vision to have a nearby solace to ride around epic and beautiful terrain wouldn't exist.

I remember my first experience at the barn, about a year ago. A few of us arrived early enough to get in a Friday afternoon ride, and ignorantly dropped down the backside of the barn not knowing there was only one hard route back up.

As the boys raced back up, Catherine struggled as far as she could go before hyperventilating. I had stayed back with her just in case, but there's not much you can do to get folks from Savannah up their first mountain. (Savannah, Georgia doesn't have mountains like this - or any at all. They only have highway overpasses they call "hills.") After climbing up himself, Mark Pro ended up driving back down the mountain offering us a ride back up. As they put Catherine's bike on the rack, I started pedaling to finish the climb.

I was now climbing a mountain on my bike, alone, under dimly lit twilight skies of West Virginia. Mark Pro's headlamps caught up with me and now I could see that I was near the top, but still going up. At one point he drove up along side of me blasting Less Than Jake music from his car's speakers. I told him to turn it up and I started climbing all-out. Mark and I have a long history of rowing together, driving to and from practice, and also attending a lot of punk rock shows. There are few other people that know how to light a fire under my ass than Mark Pro.

After we got back to the barn, I was gasping, and I remember Catherine say "I didn't realize how close we were to the top."

That same trip, I remember climbing a wide-open, 4-lane mountain road behind a guy named Zach Bolian. D-Wis and I were both wheelsucking his steady tempo. Zach was out of shape, but had us breathing near our limits. When Drew and I sprinted around for the KOM points, Zach wasn't even breathing hard.

Zach, who had just joined GW cycling, was a veteran. He was a U-23 National Crit Champion and had ridden in Belgium with the U.S. U-23 squad. He is a few years younger than I am, but I admired his Old Man Speed. The guy doesn't have the punchiness of a professional criterium racer any more, but he's never lost that strong, steady tempo.

I returned again to he barn last Fall. Catherine and I were invited to fill some empty spots by some guys on a local club called NCVC. I'd met some of them before, and ridden plenty of miles with my good friend D-Wis. Until then, though, I hadn't realized that I wanted to be a part of a team.

I remember timing Saturday's climb up the backside of the barn. It took me over 36 minutes all-out, and D-Wis had beaten me up by a few hundred meters. The next day, on the longer-but-easier front side, I won the KOM by two-and-a-half minutes, but I think Drew and I were the only ones racing.

That night, the gang popped in The Usual Suspects (one of my favorite movies) into the DVD player. After about half an hour, I realized I was the only one still awake.

My last trip to the barn was early this spring, when March just feels like a wet winter. I returned with a hot-shot group of NCVC guys gearing up for race season. Among them, I'd raced the least. Saturday was an epic journey over 70 miles and four mountains, two of which were dirt. The second descent was over scree on a yet-to-be-finished highway. My front tire ripped, so we patched it with a tube patch, a dollar bill, and some duct tape.

I did the final half of the ride with less than 40 psi in my repaired front tire but I beat all the other guys up the mountain road to the barn, in a rainstorm, chasing Jay Moglia. It was an epic ride.

Sometimes the worst rides end in the best ways, with the best memories.

The next day, we scrimmaged the Bike Rack on the upcoming Lost River Classic course. A scruffy guy named Tim Rugg demolished everyone on the first climb, wearing a cotton hoodie underneath his jersey. The question of the day became, "Who is this guy?!?!" (I'm convinced his middle initial is F.)

To improve in any way, we all need to challenge ourselves a good bit. No matter what your fitness level is, no matter how experienced you are, there is terrain around the Lost River Barn that will challenge you. That is what you should expect, and you shouldn't head out to Mathias, WV if you're looking for a leisurely, short ride. The point of the barn is to reach a new limit, whatever that may be. Every time you go back, you gotta search for something new, something different, and something more difficult.

Some things never change, though. Conveniently enough, the Barn sits at the top of a mountain, so there's only one way to get home: ride up the mountain. With a small hot-water heater and two fridges, you can always find motivation in a warm shower and a cold beer if you've got nothing left in your legs.

Jay hosted the Rapha Continental guys for an epic ride at the barn last week. Here's one of the features they posted on the site:

Mathias, WV from RAPHA on Vimeo.

I'm beer shopping tonight, grocery shopping tomorrow, and then cleaning the bike and shaving the legs in preparation for what surely will be another great weekend at the barn.

I can't wait.

In lieu of Murad, we raced ourselves.

The NCVC Cat 4 team didn't freak out when Murad was postponed. We decided to have some mini races of our own to get the workout in and practice some team tactics.

I really just wanted to log miles but I knew that we needed the team practice. I complied to Dave's request for an aggressive ride. I told him I'd show up and give it my all. I wouldn't have it any other way.

After Murad was cancelled I continued riding hard through the week, so I felt like crap after 3 hard rides. My legs were sore, I had some chamois issues, and I didn't sleep much last night. But I showed up and kept my mouth shut. The legs can do the talking.

We met at MacArthur and Persimmon Tree Road. Our races would be a 10 mile loop that went up MacArthur to Falls Road, taking a right on Oaklyn, and then a right onto Persimmon Tree. The "sprint line" would be near the intersection of Persimmon and Eggett Drive.

Race #1

For the first race, the teams were split up as follows:

Home Team -
Chris Abbey
Chris Chapel
Bert Garcia
Harry Goldman

"Away" Team -
Eric Bruins
Nate Hakken
Dave Kirkpatrick
Geoff Rezvani

The squads were pretty evenly matched, in my opinion. We didn't waste time and the Away team picked up the pace on the flats before the hill up to Great Falls. They didn't quite stay up front long enough, so I took over the front and pushed myself up MacArthur. I was anticipating an attack (or three) from Dave, Nate, and/or Geoff up the hill.

I didn't want to attack up the hill, in fact, I was hoping things would stay together. I probably kept my engine at about 85-90% exertion, hopefully quick enough to prevent folks from attacking yet I'd have a bit of kick left to respond to any attacks.

Eventually, I gapped the group. I even took it easy for the group to catch back up to me but was having none of that. I'd stand up over the rollers on the hill, and created more space. Near the top, I made a definitive move.

I drilled it on Falls Road with the group very, very close behind. They seemed pretty unorganized but were closing. A bit after we turned onto Oaklyn, I heard someone on my wheel. I turned around to see that my "Home Team" buddy Chris C had bridged up. Thank GOD. I was suffering out there alone.

I pulled for a bit more and yelled to Chris to let me know when he was ready to help out. We really just played it perfectly, taking equally strong pulls. A few times we'd look back and the group was consistently 150-200 meters back.

When we turned onto Persimmon, I picked up the pace. I love the small rollers on that section so I'd stand up and drill it when the road went uphill for little bits. Chris followed just fine and I followed as he drilled it through the bottom of the final, gradual uphill.

I looked back to see that we weren't gonna get caught. I was going to stay on Chapel's wheel, because I wouldn't have survived without him having bridged up. Instead, he signalled for me to jump so I bolted to the line.

Not too far behind, the Away team experienced some infighting. Chris Abbey used them perfectly to round out the podium for the Home team. Not bad!

We regrouped and talked a bit about our races. Really, that involved Dave K complaining that he had a lot of phlegm in his throat. H1N1 or something.

Race #2

The teams changed up a bit for the second race. Harry was nowhere to be found (he got dropped early on the big hill), so Ryan Taylor took his place. For the Away team, a not-quite-sober Drew Armstrong (Cat 3) showed up to beat up on us Cat 4s and replaced Geoff R.

Drew attacks. That's just what the guy does, and when he's caught, he'll attack again.

He did exactly that on MacArthur. When he got away, I gave chase but didn't quite catch on, so I shoved my legs into TT mode and slowly chased him down with the entire group trailing. I wanted him to hang out there for a bit knowing that (a) he was fresh and (b) he was probably the strongest guy out there. I knew I could catch him on the hill if he got tired.

Chapel wasn't having any of this, and jolted around me to catch Drew. He dragged a few folks along and we did catch the guy.

On the hill, Drew attacked again (to nobody's surprise). I gave it my all to hang on and caught him. We had a few guys trailing, but by the top of the hill it was just Drew for the Away team with Chris Abbey and myself for the Home team.

Chris (Abbey this time) was a bit more fresh than I was after my break on the last lap, and having two men in the break meant that Drew didn't have to do any work. I not-so-subtly told Chris to work as little as possible. I told him that he wasn't allowed to pull, he could only attack or sit in.

He did attack a few times, and I'd do my best to catch on to Drew's wheel every time that happened. At one point on falls Chris had gapped us and Drew attacked me as I was sipping my water bottle. That was the first ouch moment, when I had to dig deep not to be left behind.

Regrouping, I took the lead again so Chris would get a break. As we turned onto Oaklyn I nearly ate it leaning into the turn through a crack in the road. That woke me up. I kept drilling it with the two guys chasing - a 28 year old Cat 3 versus a 16 year old Cat 4.

Interesting.

I thought I was genuinely suffering, and then Chris and Drew threw a series of attacks against each other that sent me into no-man's land. I spent a good 5-minutes trailing them by no more than 50 meters. Both guys kept trading pulls and attacking each other, which helped me. The more they attacked, the slower they went. I dug pretty deep into the annals of pain to catch back on through the rollers on Oaklyn. Tough.

I somehow caught back on as both Drew and Chris seemed to be suffering. As I passed, I told Chris not to do an ounce of work if I got dropped. It would be to our advantage for both of us to gang up on Drew - the stronger rider. I took the lead again.

I looked back a few times and didn't see the rest of the group at all. Our dogfight up front must have had us rolling quicker than I'd thought.

Flying through the downhill turn from Oaklyn to Persimmon, Drew attacked again and gapped us pretty good. Chris stayed on my wheel over a few rollers and then booked it to bridge up.

At this point, I was just about cooked well done. I had little left. Legs? Gone. Lungs? Burning. Head? Throbbing and hot. I'd been squirting water over my head to cool off. I was in a serious spot of bother.

Some Freds got into the middle of our race, which lit a fire under my ass. I was gonna have none of that, so I booked it past these dicks and managed to catch up to Chris and Drew as they started the hill up to the finish. With about 400 meters to go, Chris was leading and Drew was on his wheel ready to prounce. I knew that if Drew got the first kick, I wouldn't be able to respond with enough time to come around.

I attacked with less than 100 meters to go. Chris, for better or worse, veered right into Drew's path a bit. It worked into my favor and I took the second race again. Drew second. Chris Abbey, again, in 3rd.

I had to pull over immediately. My body was shaking, my head was pounding, and my lungs needed air. I stopped and dry-heaved a bit with my head hanging over my bars. These efforts got to me. I put my bike down and sat on the sidewalk as the gang regrouped. I felt like crap.

We had planned to do three races, but most guys agreed that we'd all seriously beaten ourselves into submission.

I ended up riding with a few guys to spin the legs, then we parted ways when I stopped at Potomac Pizza to refill my bottles with Eric. I called Catherine, who was about a mile down the road on River with Lauren. Cool stuff.

The ride back downtown was horrible for me. I was drained; I had nothing. My legs were heavy and burning and I had a headache from the efforts. My stomach had been cramping up - I don't know why. I was dead. It was a tough day of riding.

I wheelsucked Catherine the entire way back to DC from River Road. Lauren asked me at one red light if I was going to live. I didn't answer. I used to have workouts like this all the time - on the water and in the erg room. I guess my cycling pals hadn't seen me this broken before. Well worth the workout for all of us.

I finished up with 51 miles - 20 at race pace. Since I was in breakaways the entirety of both races, I basically did a 2 x 20+ workout with a bunch of surges.

Here is a link Dave's blog about today's ride.

I'm tired. Time for dinner. Thanks for reading.

A Ride With PoWER

Disclaimer: This post is not about powermeters, wattage, power-to-weight ratio, or any sort of obsessive number-crunching. It's about a good group ride in Prince William County, Virginia with the boys from the PoWER cycling team.

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Every now and then you need a breath of fresh air. There are only so many roads you can ride around the DC area, and the adventures we take on bicycles can quickly become trite: MacArthur. Falls. River. Seneca. Falls. South Glen. Do those road names sound familiar?

How about "Scenic Drive?"

Scenic Drive is a 7-mile loop in a peaceful place called Prince William Forest Park, near Quantico Marine Corps base. The park and base are about 5 miles south of a place I call home. It just so happens I'm working out of Quantico this week, so I'm back at home, not in DC.

I knew I needed to ride this week to loosen my legs from last weekend's mileage, but took a nap yesterday instead. Today, I emailed a guy named "Reb" on the Prince William Elite Racing (PoWER) cycling team. The team rides through the local forest park on Wednesday evenings, so I asked if I could join up. Reb sent me a prompt "of course."

I've pedaled hundreds of miles at the forest park. I'm very familiar with the many hiking trails and few roads there. Really, it's only a pair of roads. There's a 2.1 mile roller coaster of a road with three good hills that leads to Scenic Drive, a 7.2 mile loop. All of the roads are in a tunnel of the forest's trees on a two-lane road (though part of the road is one-way with a bike lane in the left instead).

The loop, followed counter-clockwise, goes up a long drag of a hill that isn't that steep for about half a mile. Then it flattens slightly, but not totally until a few miles later where it's essentially flat. Then the road turns to a mile or two of false downhill that gives you delusions of strength. That's a fun stretch.

All along this way, it's very curvy. Really, it's never too bad with curves. However, the faster you go, the curvier it will seem.

After the false downhill there's a sharp left turn that leads to a straight drop-off that hits some absurdly fun steepness. (One time, spinning my hardest gear all-out down this little drop-off, I hit 54.2 miles per hour, my fastest ever.)

Flip some words around and you'll know that whatever goes down, must come up. The drop off leads to a long hill that has 3 steps to it. You can power over the first step after flying through a right hand turn with enough speed from the steep downhill. Then it's two pretty steep uphill sections separated by a dead flat section. There are some gates on the side of the road here. The PoWER guys use these as a sprint point: the top of a steep, relatively short hill.

That's fun.

After the sprint, there's a downhill that leads you back to a sharp left turn to the beginning of the loop and the long, gradual uphill.

I met up with the PoWER guys after a warm-up lap with some random but friendly n00b triathletes that asked a lot of questions.

The first PoWER guy I talked to I'd actually met at Carl Dolan a few weeks ago. He was welcoming, as were all of the guys on the ride really. One of the best things about this ride with the folks - varying in age from low-30s to mid-50s.

I was clearly the youngest guy there, and I may have been sandbagging a group ride but I wasn't there to insult folks. I just wanted company on the ride. They were all friendly and all willing to work, even if it meant pushing themself into the red.

I made sure to do as the Romans. I would take my pulls and make them count. When we'd be rolling quickly, I'm pretty sure I would be putting some guys in a spot of bother. Every lap we'd lose some of the 10 guys when things got fast. I noticed this happened a few times after I'd been at the front. Whoops.

Reb tried to organize the group, but like true low-category racers there was little of that happening. We would chat until the flat part, then speed things up into a single paceline. About halfway through each lap we'd sprint for an obscure "mile marker" on the right hand side of the road.

Another Puerto Rican guy, a 50-year old named Ramon, tried to point it out to me again before the second sprint. He called it a "stick on the right." "What stick? We're in a forest, there's wood everywhere!"

Oh, yeah, it was literally a 4-foot tall post with a "6" on it. Whatever. It was a fun, curvy lead-up into the sprint but I sure as hell didn't know where it was. And I definitely couldn't see it when I was drafting folks. Evidently I kept leading out the curvy roads before the sprint, going to the back of the paceline, then having no chance to contend except once where I swerved into the opposite lane just to pass a few guys for third. Futile effort though.

The sprint was also the start of the real race to the end of the hill that was 2-3 miles away. We'd launch attacks and fast pulls until the steep downhill, and then it was free-for-all on the uphill. Usually the group broke up from 10-12 guys to just a handful, usually 3-5.

On the first lap I didn't know there even was a "sprint point" on the hill so I just kept up with two guys. About 20 meters before the gate I asked "Where are we sprinting to?!?!"

Oh, that, right there. Missed it.

The two guys were Ramon and the guy I'd met at Carl Dolan. Both 50+ years old. Wow. Watch out for these guys. They may qualify for AARP benefits but they sure can roll - up hills no less. They were proudly beating up on a bunch of other younger jocks. Good for them.

The next two sprints for the hill I took 2nd behind Carl Dolan dude. I lead up the hill, then we traded weak attacks and he just had a bit more umph before the gate. Kinda weak showing on my part but nobody else was near us whatsoever. On the last of the fast laps, I destroyed everyone for the final sprint by launching a big-ring attack on the second section of the hill. I didn't have to pedal hard up the last stretch.

A few of us took one final lap at a "tempo" pace just to chat a bit. Most of the guys parked in a lot on the scenic loop but I like parking by the Visitor's Center near the entrance to the park. Those last 2.1 miles from the loop to the entrance are pretty hilly and curvy, so they're fun. They're also desolate, and I like that.

It's a real change from riding around the nearby DC suburbs when you end up in a perfectly quiet forest, with nobody around you. It's serene, and you notice weird things. Going up a hill all I could hear was my hard breathing and the clinking of my chain going over sprockets.

Throughout the entire 2 hours and 20 minutes I was in the park on this particular weekday evening, I didn't see one moving car. Not one. That is not exaggeration, that is straight-up. This place was desolate of all traffic and the roads are darn-near perfect. For those hot summer days, I'd guess that 90 percent of the loop is in the shade from the evening sun, so it's nice and cool there (I wanted arm-warmers by the end of the ride).

If you ever make it South of the beltway, I'd highly recommend riding with this little group of guys (Wednesday nights at 5:30 PM). They're not the fastest bunch around, but they like riding their bikes aggressively. Even better, they're disciplined riders for such varying experience levels. It's not very often I can say that I don't once remember touching my brakes through a heck of a lot of pacelining. And tonight, I really don't think I had to hit them once on that loop.

I ended up riding 41 miles. I hadn't planned a particular distance, but surely didn't think I was going to log so many miles on a weeknight. Riding with this random, small club in northern Virginia in our small forest of solace is a great escape for me. The park is my old stomping grounds, so it was a fun breath of fresh air in my legs and lungs.

Great ride. Great workout. Thanks for letting me join, PoWER.

GamJams Reviews: Sunglasses - Oakley Splice

Sunglasses are probably my most inconsistently used equipment. I currently have a number of sunglasses to choose from and I'm not perfectly happy with any of them. In fact, I'm waiting for two pairs of glasses to arrive at the Oakley headquarters in California to claim some warranty credit and put that cash towards a new pair. (Possibly Radar Path, Flak Jackets, or something with replaceable lenses.)

This season I've been racing with a pair of Oakley Splice sunglasses that I snagged off of ebay some years ago. Though they're not perfect, I really like these glasses.


I used to use the Splice glasses alternatively with some Oakley XX (Twenty) glasses that fit similarly. The Splice glasses were my raceday lenses. They just look kinda tough and badass, so it was a matter of attitude for me. Nowadays, I just roll with them most of the time. I think half of the reason that they've lasted long than most of my other Oakleys is because I bought them with a crazy hardcore Oakley Metal Vault case. I'm pretty sure I got that setup for under $60 shipped. Luck on ebay is always fun.

The glasses have a pretty aggressive look without making you look like a dipsh*t when you take your helmet off. The top of the frames have a metal brow, and the rest is a translucent dark grey plastic. The frames on mine are Blue Iridium in color, but actually look like grey lenses when you wear them.

They have slightly larger ear grippers than most Oakleys, so they stay put on my head very well. Also, unlike most of Oakley's O-Matter glasses, they actually have fixed rubber nose pads (think Oakley XX) that help keep the glasses in place on my nose.

Those little rubber nose pads make the world of difference. With most other glasses, I have trouble with the glasses slightly falling down my nose. Slighty may mean millimeters, but it's enough that I find myself poking them back up my nose like a nerd. That's unsafe at speed, so the fact that the Splices stay put makes me happy.

The main thing I look for in cycling glasses is pure wind protection. I don't like big lenses because I have a narrow face. However, narrow glasses (re: older Oakley Minute)usually don't protect wind from getting in above the outside of my cheekbones. Oakley Minue 2.0s, Oakley XXs, and the Oakley Splice glasses all provide adequate wind protection without being too wide for my face/head.

And, as I said before, they don't make me look like a dork or NASCAR freak if I wear them when I'm not riding.

Other Eye Protection:

At the Ft. Ritchie Criterium, I forgot my Oakley Splices. The only glasses I had were some Oakley Minutes, so I just wore those. Although they don't protect my eyes from the wind as much, I didn't think about them once during the race. Not bad.

Recently I've also been using some OLD glasses I got from Performance years ago. They're Performance Siren glasses and although they don't give me adequate coverage, I use the amber and clear lenses quite often. Tonight I was riding in shady Prince William Forest Park so the amber lenses were great for transitioning between shady areas and bright spots betweenthe trees. They've obviously great for grey and cloudy days, too.

For anyone that rides in the evenings after work, it's important to have some lenses you can use at night. I ride at Hains at night occasionally, so I put clear lenses on the Siren frames to keep the bugs out of my eyes. It's better than nothing, but not perfect.

The fact that my 1-year old Oakley Minute 2.0s broke in half (right at the nose) earlier this season really pissed me off. They are in the mail back to Oakley as we speak, and I'm getting some frame replacements. Those glasses provided great wind protection without looking uber dorky when I wasn't riding. I have the Gold Iridium lenses which seemed to work pretty well for all conditions and the hydrophobic coating was phenomenal. Since Navy isn't available, I will be replacing my broken navy frames (to match the GW kit) with some all-matching, pro-looking white frames.

Those will probably take over for the Splices...

193 reasons it was a great weekend.

I didn't race this weekend; I never intended to. It was a weekend of riding some long, fast miles for me. Overall, from Thursday to Sunday, I logged 193 miles at an average pace of 19.44 miles per hour.

I can rarely get out on the bike early in the week because of how my work schedule plays out, so I focus more important workouts Thursdays through Sundays. I always start with the sprints at hains, hopefully showing up with fresh legs.

My goal on Thursdays is to destroy my legs in the sprints. Last week I successfully did that.

Friday

Fridays I try to get out for a steady ride, anywhere from a spin to tougher tempo. These last few weeks I've put in a solid 30+ mile rides at tempo. These sort of rides hurt while you're pedaling, but they make you feel great when you get home and realize your legs have loosened up.

On Friday, Catherine and I went to Hains and I motorpaced her for 90 minutes. Except I wasn't on a scooter, I was pedaling my bike, and she was sitting in my draft. We eventually had a little group rolling together. At one point, some Artemis woman (or a dude with long hair?) confused Friday for Thursday and teased a sprint. Harry, our Junior and fresh Cat 4, followed suit.

I was going to have none of this crap. They had been wheelsucking me for two or three laps and now they were trying to sprint at a weak 25-26 miles per hour.

Too hell with that. I cranked it up to 30, passing Harry yelling "If you're gonna do that shit, go all-out." I was not going to tolerate someone wheelsucking me and then half-assing an effort. Call it ego, but it was insulting. I jumped, and I was only followed by Greg Abbott and another dude who both came around me at the line. My max speed told me I hit over 35 mph (we had a nice tailwind).

But I didn't go out to Hains on Friday to race. After that little group disintegrated to happy hour, Catherine and I were rolling at about 21-23 for four or five more laps.

That sorta thing seems to work great for us to both get pretty much the same workout. She has the motivation to hold onto my wheel, or I'll look back and give her a condescending glare that says "why aren't you keeping up?" She reciprocates by having loud freewheel hubs on all of her wheelsets. If I'm not pedaling hard enough, I hear her freewheel zipping around as she soft-pedals, and that's insulting.

On one lap, Catherine bolted passed me for the line. I was totally unprepared for this non-sense. I had totally gone into tempo mode. My hands were on the tops of my hoods, nowhere near the shifters and my breathing was rhythmic, following the tunes in my head. The next lap, I strategically upped the pace to 26+ mph so Catherine could practice a few sprints using me as an actual lead-out at speed.

Apparently Cat 4 women don't have fast lead-outs. They just wait for 500 meters to go then jolt from 18 to 28 mph and call it a race. Or so Catherine says - it was better practice for her to jump from my wheel at 22 mph than 26 mph. All the same to me, tempo is tempo.

...but D-Wis would call these speeds child's play.

After a while we called it quits, both hungry after a productive Friday night workout.

Saturday

Saturday I started an early ride with Catherine and Lauren (LP!) but broke off to meet a few of the NCVC Cat 4s and 5s. We had planned to do 3 hours and consider a stop at Uncle Charlie's BBQ near Darnestown & Seneca. The weather was iffy, so we went quick and fast instead never making it out that far.

Nine of us started with a few guys breaking off here and there (one because of a broken chain). We did a typical route - heading out South Glen, past Lake Potomac, taking an unusual left on Esworthy and heading back on River Road. It gets moderately hilly out there, and we were keeping the group rolling steadily - everyone doing a fair share of the work in the wind.

The six of us that finished together had a 19.1 average for 41 miles. Not bad, boys, not bad at all. We had a darn fun tailwind coming back on MacArthur so we pushed the pace on the way home. I don't think I'd ever gotten back from Great Falls to Georgetown in so little time. Having little traffic helped a bit too.

I took the last pull before the hill leading up to the gas station, cranking the pace up to 28-29 mph. That dropped two guys, but a red light on the hill regrouped us for a sprint to the DC line. Nate Hakken was leading us out, when we called it off because of two slow cars in our way. No fun. But big Nate was eager to put us through the windshields and three of us were ready to prounce.

Sunday

In a continued effort to get the NCVC Cat 4/5 guys out together, a few of us announced a Poolesville/Murad preview ride for Sunday. When the clouds are dark you're surely not gonna get great attendance for a 70-mile jaunt to the boonies, but we had a dozen or so people with us and I convinced Jason that stopping at Uncle Charlie's after the hard roads would re-energize us for the ride back in.

Dave K surprised us with his presence, and the short story is that he pulled the group around for a big fraction of the 50 miles to and from our meeting point at Great Falls.

We were rollin' all the way to the Poolesville course. We took a nature break a mile or two before the gravel section and then powered through the dirt. I've only ridden this section a handful of times, but except for the sharp, blind, soaked pot-hole filled, off-camber, downhill right hand turn into the gravel, the road was as good as I've ever seen it.

Aside from the potholes near the nexus of pavement and dirt, the road itself was great. There was only one huge bump (across nearly the entire road) but other than that, the dirt was packed hard and the wheels were turning fast.

On the unpaved stretch, Jason T. took off when we first hit the dirt. Dave K. and I followed - our egos wouldn't let us sit up on this part of the ride. We each took a turn at the front and then Jason faded a bit. Dave K and I kept powering through the tracks, finishing the section with some hard breaths but big smiles. If this is any prediction, Poolesville will be a good race - as always. Just behave on that turn. (Note: I am actually not racing poolesville myself though...)

We left the dirt and frikken' flew over a ton of rollers - that was my doing with the help here and there from Dave and Matt, a Virginia Tech rider that somehow "caught up" with us after the gravel section. Regrouping at a gas station, we refilled our bottles with water and Beth C. refilled all of our hopes to get home strongly by feeding us homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

On the way home, Dave K and I powered through Hughes and Sugarland. Most of the folks were eager to zip back home, so Jason (ride leader) once again vetoed the idea for a lunch break at Uncle Charlie's BBQ. It would have added some miles, so I didn't fight it. We were cruising, I didn't want to stop.

Dave had a close family friend of his pass away very recently, so he was riding possessed. It reminded me of when Bettini won the world Championships. Days later, Bettini's brother died, so he came back to win Lombardia in a fit of passion. Halfway through that race, it was fact: Bettini could not be beaten. He was going to win.

I don't know what thoughts were going through Dave's head, but it wasn't the wind he was powering through and it wasn't the pain in his legs as he pulled a gang of red and white jerseys at 30 miles per hour on Hughes Road.

You just don't f*ck with passion, or fury, or heart. His riding reminded me of a quote I like from F. Scott Fitzgerald: No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man can store up in his ghostly heart.

I simply made sure to keep up and stay out of Dave's way. When I saw his legs hesitate, I'd fill in the gap of speed. Then he'd pull around me again.

On River Road, Dave dropped back by a minute and a half just so he could practice bridging up. I think he did that twice between Seneca and Falls.

The crew rolled together back to Great Falls, where we said a quick farewell and kudos to each other. Dave K, Catherine, myself, and our newbie NCVC Cat 5 teammate Carlos headed back together enroute to downtown DC. We agreed to keep the pace consistent, and I spit out "a 19-20 pace."

Dave took off immediately, so when we caught up, I got to the front. I was hoping to keep the pace quick enough to keep Dave from bolting but easy enough that Catherine and Carlos wouldn't tell me to ease up, either.

I found a rhythm that's hard to find after 60 miles over hills and dirt. I had no speed on my bike computer, and I didn't shift gears once throughout the entire ride home on MacArthur. I just pedaled around 100 RPMs and made sure to keep my legs painfully comfortable.

I just kept pedalling, and the gang kept following. Turns out, we got back to Georgetown quickly. Catherine told me I'd been cruising around 24. Whoops. It was windy all day, and thankfully we enjoyed a calm tailwind on the way home.

There was no sprint to the DC line yesterday. Dave had gone his own way by then, and Catherine and I crossed chit-chatting with Carlos behind us. It was a great ride, and a great way to finish a series of tough workouts, too.

What Ahead:

The 40-mile Murad Road Race is next weekend. I'm ready, no doubt.

At the end of the month I'm leading a group of GW Cycling alums to the Lost River Barn. I'm really looking forward to that trip it's a perfect mix of my best friends and my closest current and former teammates, with some new folks in the mix, too. Check out this roster of has-beens, n00bs, and most importantly, all good friends of mine:

Mike Brindza, GW Crew alum/UMD Cycling, Cat 4
Eric Bruins, USC/GW Cycling/NCVC, Cat 4
Matt Gultanoff, GW Alum, out-of-shape Cat 4
Bert Garcia (me), GW Cycling & Crew Alum/NCVC, Cat 4
Seth Oranburg, GW Cycling n00b, Cat 5
Mark Protacio, GW Cycling & Crew Alum, Cat 4
Dan "Schlomo" Schwartz, GW Cycling/NCVC, Cat 4
Drew Wis, GW Cycling & Crew Alum/NCVC, Cat 4

And don't forget the ladies:

Jen Cheng, GW Alum/Cyclelife, Cat 3
Catherine Miller, GW Alum, Cat 4
Lauren Peterson, GW Alum/NCVC, Cat 4

I asked D-Wis if he was racing the Ride Sally Ride criterium the weekend after our barn trip. Appropriately, he responded "I will if you will." After all the miles of riding we've been logging, we had no reason not to race. We'll be ready.

I'm riding more miles this year than I ever have before. I'm challenging myself more mentally and physically by entering more races and riding harder, faster rides more often. I haven't taken a sport this seriously in years, but I'm having so much fun that it doesn't seem to hurt.

I realize that it's a tough balance to find, but I'm going to keep at it.

I'm excited for what's ahead.

Let's ride.

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.

Gamjams Reviews: Summer Gloves - Specialized BG Pro & Voler Elite Pro

I've been using two pairs of warm-weather gloves regularly this spring.

First, I've been using the Specialized BG Pro Glove a good bit. I particularly like the look of the white gloves, especially with my NCVC kit when I'm wearing the black shorts.

After a ride or two, I convinced myself that the BG Pro gloves were comfortable. But it took convincing. Like most of my product reviews, I judge my favorite equipment on how little it bothers me or pisses me off. These took some time to get used to, but I love them now.

Specialized throws their R&D capability behind all of their products, and their gloves match the pattern. They have a huge, thick pad on the bottom of the palm which is supposed to protect the ulnar nerve and reduce hand/wrist pain while riding. It might be because of the way in which I hold the bars (which isn't unique or unusual), but I don't notice if this pad does anything for me. It just seems kinda like a chamois for your palm. Whatever.

On any glove, I would much prefer padding - or at least more protection - between the thumb and pointer finger. This is the area where there is always pressure on your hands whether you're on the hoods, in the drops, or on the tops (if you keep your thumbs wrapped around the bar for better control, hint hint). When n00bs start cycling, this is the part of their hand they complain about: that gooey muscle that makes your thumb opposable. You can pinch your skin or tissue, and it's just irksome. Every now and then, I still get irritation there, and it can ruin a ride when you're thinking about your hands and not your legs.

The Specialized gloves have a few seems in this area and are probably the worst in this regard among my hand schwag. But they're still better than riding sans gloves, by far. The specialized gloves fit me well enough that even without velcro, they stay put on my hands and I can get them off easily, even while riding.

When I bought my new NCVC kits, I was super excited and got the whole outfit: shorts, jerseys, vest, socks, and even the gloves. Voler is our clothing supplier, and I was very, very surprised with how comfortable the Velor Elite Pro gloves were and how well they fit my hands. I'll probably buy another pair, because they're pretty darn good for the cheap price of the team deal (I think they were $15 with custom graphics).

I've used the Voler Elite Pro gloves in just about all of my races this year with no problem. That should say enough.

My one complaint is that the velcro on these gloves is on the inside of the wrist, and for some reason that annoys me. It doesn't physically annoy me or irritate my hand, I just find it weird. If that's my one complaint, so be it.

I generally ride with the Specialized gloves and race with the Voler NCVC gloves for a few reasons. First of all, I like this slightly thinner padding on the Voler gloves for races. For training rides, Specialized has stiffer padding that seems to hold up better throughout a long day in the saddle. Of course, I also have two gloves because I wash them regularly. If one pair is drying, the other pair is being used. Simple as that.

Here's on more addition to my glove review. In the past, my favorite gloves to ride in have been Louis Garneau ErgoAir gloves. They come in different materials/construction for weather, some of which are more durable than others.

I have yellow ones with thick lycra to match my GW kit that have been bombproof with a lot of leather on the palm. I also have thinner, "mesh" ones in red, that ripped between the fingers and some other seems, too. Don't get the mesh ones, they are thin and keep your hand cool, but they rip too easily.

The ErgoAir gloves just seem to not bother my hands at all, but, unfortunately, I've had a hard time finding them recently. the fact that I'm between sizes of these gloves (somewhere between M and L) make me hesitate to buy them again.

My last thought is that I will not buy gloves without having the opportunity to try them on (with the exception of the Voler NCVC gloves I ordered with our uniforms). I don't feel like wasting money ordering one size to find that it's too boofy on my hand or gives me weird vibes. I like trying on gloves, walking over to a bike, and seeing how they feel on the bars. It works for me.

This is one item I'll continue to buy in shops, even if they're always overpriced.

Race Report: Fort Ritchie Criterium, Cat 4

Abridged Version:

I took 6th place and won $20. Dan Schwartz, in his first race wearing NCVC colors, won his first-ever [non-collegiate] Cat 4 race.

Unabridged version:

There's a slight backstory to my race reports, they're always a bit long but this race just about left me with no confidence. I re-strained a lower back muscle on Thursday, which darn near immobilized me. My back's just become pretty weak since I stopped rowing and any twisting and bending can create muscle spasms, locking it up for a week. Catherine taped my back up with some Kinesio tape and I headed to the race anyways.

With the rain and the injury, I didn't ride my bike all week. I showed up this morning stiff, sore, and with low expectations for myself. As I see it, low expectations also gave me less pressure to perform. In that regard, it was a good thing.

NCVC had a huge lineup for this race. My good friends Dave Kirkpatrick and Chris Carraway were lined up. Strong-as-hell Juniors Chris Abbey and David Brookes were on our roster, too, along with a slew of others.

I was mostly excited that it would be Dan Schwartz's first race with NCVC. I helped him learn the ropes as he raced the collegiate series with GW these last two seasons, and we did a few Cat 5 races together last year. The guy go strong as hell, and he just races really well, if that isn't evident by his results (two collegiate wins and the conference champ for his division). Coincidentally, Dan was nursing a back injury he suffered from a car accident about a week ago. (To think he too considered not showing up...)

Dave and I scouted the course together and watched the finish of the Cat 5 race, where a guy took off on this ever-so-slight uphill, through the narrow corners, and just about held out to the line. I told Dave that if I survived that long in the race (back pending), I'd kick up the pace in that same spot.

Four of five of us NCVC guys got prime positioning at the start. I saw Chris Carraway stay up front for a few laps, but I basically headed backwards. There were 6 turns throughout the race, and with a few other super-fast swerving roads, it was pretty darn difficult for me. I feel like I was never in a good draft, and I just wasn't as confident (or crazy) cornering as most of the guys out there. Oh well, that turned out not to be a factor for me.

About 3 laps in, two guys went down fast and hard on the backside, before the last turn. I was right behind them but I avoided the mayhem easily.

My legs were burning those first few laps. They stopped burning and started feeling strong when my back started cramping up. It felt like there was a burning hot rope connecting my ass to the back of my ribcage. When I saw the lap counter at 17, I saw Catherine watching our race from the sidelines. A few times I shook my head at her as we passed, patting my back. I was not feeling so hot.

I hung onto the pack, never making any ground on the field. Positioning was insanely tough. I looked back twice and made sure I was at least in the front half, but it was not stellar positioning. Throughout the race a few NCVC guys were in front of me in the pack, but I don't think any one of us ever made it to THE front. Things were pretty quick.

The most aggressive rider of the day was my friend Dan Drumwright from Route 1 Velo/Arrow. The guy (who I hear is recently engaged, is this true?) just kept killing it at the front. He probably attacked about half a dozen times in our hour-long race. I was sucking wheels, watching from the back. Evolution did a pretty good job up front keeping things in check, along with Bike Rack.

With 12 laps to go, I was suffering because of my back. I couldn't get comfortable in the drops, which is where I wanted to ride most of the course. I'd take short stints on the hoods or flats to ease up a bit.

At one point, two Bike Rack guys had some run-ins with the pavement. Both took free laps and jumped right into the pack, with two of their teammates letting them in at the slight uphill before two sharp right-hand turns. They played that so smoothly, but this corner seemed to be a problem for a lot of folks. Things would bottleneck, and at one point three R1V guys jolted right and nearly took half the field out. That was just one of many incidents.

Another time in that same bottleneck, my front wheel's spokes rubbed on David's shoes. Luckily it was not incident but it surely startled him. (Sorry David!) That actually woke my ass up and gave me a jolt of adrenaline.

With 8 laps to go, I said to hell with struggling to move up. I knew it was going to take me some time to get to the front - so I started committing to move up a few guys each lap in two places.

After the final turn, on the straightaway, I sprinted out-of-the-saddle just a bit longer through the start/finish to pass a few more people on the left, near the gutter leading to the uphill. We were taking it easy up the hill and around the sharp corners, so I could sit up there to catch my breath and ease the back pain. After the sharp 90-degree left-hander, I'd drill it to move up farther.

Call it luck, but with 4 to go I found myself in the sweet spot behind two of my teammates. To my right was Dan, who just happened to be behind Dave K. Mike Ephstyn and Chris C. were in front of me. Perfect (or so I thought). It's here that I told Dan he was the man of the day. I don't know if he heard me, but my back was only going to slow me down when the speed got ballistic. Again, so I thought.

The pace was continuing to accelerate with 2 laps remaining so it was impossible to keep our team in line. Chris C. and I shadowed each other through a few laps and I kept Dan in my sights. He did an impressive job to stay near the front - better than Chris and I were doing together. I lost track of Dave and Mike who had fallen somewhere behind us.

Random: At some point near the end of the race, Chris Abbey got a flat. That's poop for luck.

With one lap to go, I lost track of Chris but went through the sharp turns about 12th wheel. Dan "Schlomo" Schwartz was in the top few guys - well done on his part. Before the 2nd to last turn, some skirmishing caused three or four guys in front of me to violently swerve left. This played well into my favor, although it definitely killed the chances of the two Tims from the Bike Rack, who had to get back up to speed with a pack zooming by.

I moved up into the top few guys, and a gap formed a few riders back. I didn't feel comfortable through the final turn throughout the race, but I found the sweet spot on that final lap. I drilled it, passing a few guys with a few stalking me. I threw my bike at the line in hopes that I'd get in the money.

Then I heard Joe Jefferson, the announcer, yell that NCVC took the win. YEAH! Dan got the win, with a bike throw himself.

I did get in the money - but just bareley - finishing in 6th place for $20. I was sandwiched in by two good racers on the Bike Rack - Tim Rugg in 5th and Tim Brown in 7th. Dan Drumwright, a good friend of Schwartz and I off the bike, finished in 4th.

BikeReg said there were 72 guys confirmed for our race. Joe Jefferson announced at the beginning of our race that the official start list had over 90 Cat 4s, and it would be "strung out like Amy Winehouse." Surely enough, on the results, only 42 riders officially finished. It was a tough (and painful) race, but not a bad day at the office for NCVC. Dan won $50 and I recieved $20.



Through the sloppiness of this crazy course, I hope everyone made it home in one piece. Aside from another severe shortage of porta-johns, it was a great event. My next competition is the Murad Road Race, so I'll see y'all in Poolesville.

Friday Ramblings: Protect your junk.

As if the rain was not a sign enough that I shouldn't ride my bicycle after work, I somehow re-strained my lower back muscles today. And I have a frikken' desk job. How the hell...

When I got back from work today, I went straight to the bed. I was lying down with a pillow under my stomach (to relax my back muscles) and using Catherine's electronic massage thing. Catherine had recently ordered some Kinesio tape (stuff olympic volleyball players made famous) for her shoulder and threw some on my back in a weird "H" pattern. Hopefully that'll help me move around a bit, but I'm stiff.

Right when I made the good decision to not ride because of my back, the skies cleared up. It was already 6:40, so I would have missed most of the mayhem at Hains anyways. Oh well. I hadn't planned on sprinting tonight, to rest, but I wanted to stretch the legs and say hi to a few pals. Oh well.

Some complacency after a few years of rowing weakened my back years ago, and this happens occasionally, but less than annually. I can never predict it. The muscle to the right of my spine, directly above the sacrum, just spasm and lock up. This means I have to walk like a geriatric and it's a painful transition between sitting and standing. Of course, I can't really lift much either.

With a race coming up tomorrow morning, I'm fairly disappointed. Hopefully it won't affect my legs much but it will definitely affect my ability to surge and jump out of the saddle. We'll have to see. My legs have been feeling great and I'm riding confidently. With the rain this week, it was an excellent opportunity to totally take a break and recover. I've been relaxing, watching tv, and eating ice cream. Marvelous.

I didn't plan to race Ft. Ritchie but couldn't say no. I figured I'd use it as a gauge compare myself to the other Cat 4s ahead of the longer, hillier road races. So much for that. We'll just see if my back holds up at all. I know for sure that I definitely need to make core work a regular routine after my rides and protect myself from injury. I don't like being a gimp.

Speaking of protecting your junk, onto something fun: DZ Nuts.

I've never actually tried the stuff, but I'm a huge Dave Zabriskie fan so I have to give the guy's product a plug here. I was perusing YouTube for cycling clips and came across a number of great DZ Nuts chamois cream commercials.

This is not a product review whatsoever. Again, I've never used the stuff, but anyone with the guts to have some perverted fun with their business gets my respect. If the catchy saddle-bearing-testicles logo doesn't get your attention, I encourage you to check out the video on their site (advertisements they've placed on YouTube).

Here's a sampling of my favorites. This first one brings with it the style of Basic Instinct:




Although you've gotta watch this video on the DZ Nuts site to understand why you shouldn't taste the stuff, here's another fun YouTube clip:




If you didn't have enough on YouTube yet and you want something a bit more serious, here are some links to a great three-part interview with Robbie McEwen. Most folks either love or hate the guy, but it's hard not to like him after watching these videos:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (This one's all equipment sponsor plugs.)

I hope y'all have a good weekend, and hopefully I'll survive Ft. Ritchie to put up a good race report. Thanks for reading, and see you on the road.

Gamjams Reviews: Pedals - Shimano Ultegra

I've used Shimano Ultegra pedals for about 4 years now, switching from the stock SPD style pedals that came on my first road bike when I first bought a "racing" bike.

I haven't needed much else since.

The platforms are wide, and the cleat feels nice and snug in the pedal. Even though the pedal has adjustable tension, I rarely have had to tweak it.

You can find Ultegra pedals for a good deal (well under $100) in tons of places. Compared to their Dura Ace brethren, you don't lose much quality and there is only a slight increase in weight. Shimano Ultegra pedals are slightly lighter than the comparable Look Sprint pedals, too.

The cleats come in different colors representing different float angles. I use the "yellow" with maximum float. Because the cleats have a hard plastic pad on the bottom, they do not wear nearly as fast as Look pedals. They also don't need covers like Look or Speedplay cleats.

If you're duck-footed like me, you might need to turn the cleats in a bit. The 3-bolt pattern cleat is very wide at the back, which means it might have limited placement/positioning space on the sole of a shoe. This means that the corners of the cleat pass over the edge of the sole, covering air. It might not be so bad but I instinctively want the entire cleat surface pressed against the sole.

Because of that last problem, I've considered trying Look pedals because they have smaller cleats or Speedplays for their unlimited float. But I haven't. I've been pretty darn happy with my pedals and haven't had much reason to change them.

As I always say, when you don't worry or think a piece of equipment much, you know it's doing its job perfectly.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...

I committed a sacrilege.

Today, May 3rd, was the first Sunday of the year that I did not ride my bicycle.

I checked my online riding journal, and aside from February, I'd ridden every Sunday so far this year. I hadn't realized it until last night.

(I didn't ride every Sunday in February because I was on airplanes enroute to/from Germany, and then skiing in Vail, Colorado. I'm not counting those.)

But something was missing from my routine today. If I'm not working, I want to take advantage of my free time and ride my bike. In lieu of getting in a boat and passing the strokes, I'll pedal my ass into submission. I sometimes feel like riding my bike is all I need - the act of pedaling keeps me going, so I keep pushing.

On Sundays in particular, cycling becomes a religious experience. Everyone has a reason to go to church, but aside from appeasing my mom, I don't. Personally, I just never took much out of attending church. It just isn't for me, and I don't believe I'll be sent to hell for missing it. Nor do I think I should feel guilty for opting out.

Riding my bike, though, is entirely different. I feel the need to ride, and because it is my choice, I feel no guilt when I choose to keep the bike inside.

The repetetive motion and mental focus of cycling can put me into a rhythm, a sort of meditation or nirvana. Maybe it's the place we athletes call "the zone."

During the summers between college semesters, nearly every Sunday, I would go for a ride around my neighborhood with absolutely no plan but to ride myself into "the zone." I would throw a leg over my bike and pedal until there were no thoughts left running through my mind. Then, short of breath, I would stop at one of my favorite spots along the water of Lake Montclair. This was my deliverance. It was my moment of peace - a time to reflect and also a time to forget.

I've been relaxing with the Wind all day,
But the Sky won't open up for me.
And though I feel it's easy for a man to stand tall,
Much harder for a man to simmer down...
~ "Right on Time" by O.A.R.

Some people go to church on Sundays, but I ride my bike. Like many athletes, the only way I can feel remotely fulfilled is to put myself out of my own misery once in a while. Riding my bike makes me feel like I'm running away from the ghost of mediocrity. For at least the duration of a ride on my bike, something is driving me to go faster. Something is inspiring me to work harder. Something I can't grab, something I don't know.

Whatever that something is, it is more powerful than what angry, depressed, and confused thoughts were running through my mind when I would stop, hunched over my bars gasping, looking over the serene, brown shimmering water of the small lake in my hometown. Although the teenage angst has faded, to this day and on any given Sunday, I'd rather let my lungs and legs take the pain so my mind can have a day off.

Have you ever been on the brink of exertion, pedalling like mad with your head feeling heavy, and started asking your legs for more? I guarantee you, although there may be someone always looking over us, the heavens won't make you pedal your bike faster. Only you can push yourself that much farther, if you choose to believe you can.

I rarely will go to Church (sorry Mom) and I will never call myself a "religious" person. However, I do consider myself a man of faith, but not necessarily because of a book of scriptures, a man on a cross, or a crazy belief that I'm going to meet 70 virgins after I die. We all have faith of different kinds. It could be faith in a deity, a bicycle, Eddy Merckx, a pet rock, 70 virgins, or something else. You can have faith in whatever sort of tangible or intangible objects you want. It all means nothing, though, if you don't have faith in yourself.

This brings me to the song of the blog:

"And time stands still when no one understands you,
When you don't quite understand yourself.
But just know this that God is faithful,
Even if you don't have faith yourself.

There's nothing quite like being sure of what's inside your heart."
~ MXPX "Tomorrow is another Day"

I excused myself for missing my routine Sunday bike ride this morning. I guess in some way, it's just like skipping church, but I don't feel guilty. Had I not been riding very often, had it been a sunny day, had my sister not been visiting, and had I nothing better to do, I know that I would have been riding.

Meeting my family for brunch while my sister was in town was more than enough reason to forego a bike ride. It seemed the dismal, wet weather concurred.

Forgive me not.

Thanks for reading.

Friday Ramblings: No warm-up necessary.

Last night at Hains Point was one of the funnest rides I've done this year. If you are somehow out of the Thursday night sprints bubble, we ride around in 3.2 mile circles for the better part of a pair of hours, sprinting for an imaginary line.

When I say "we," I mean anyone willing to hang on for dear life to a bunch of Cat 3-4-5 cyclists and a few others, too.

Last night, though, the "we" is what made this ride so much fun. I jumped into the group a little bit after 6pm and saw tons of familiar faces. And more of my riding pals just kept showing up. It was a sh*t-show of a party on bikes. I loved it.

First of all, my boy Seth Mosier, who I started racing with at Greenbelt in 2005 when we rode for GW cycling, showed up on his fixie last night. Holy cow. This dude lives in Georgia. No, not down-south Georgia. I mean get-bombed-by-the-Russians Georgia. Yeah, Seth is in town, hell yes.

He sent a few of us GW alums an email, which meant that my boy Mark Pro was also on his bike, in an amalgamation of nearly all of GW's historical buff and blue kits. Along side Mark was his girlfriend Ann, who's a good sport and has taken up the sport recreationally with us.

Jen Cheng, a fellow GW alum now racing for CycleLife who Catherine and I had dinner with earlier this week, said hi to Seth and then jumped in the sprints group to bully us guys. In particular, she was literally beating up Colin, my professional equipment consultant from BPS. Last night he has passed up his GW swag for an Irish pro team's kit, as if he didn't already stick out like a sore thumb. The guy - short with curly hair and legs like a caveman's clubs - looks like like a pissed-off hobbit during the sprints. Brent, a wrench at BPS, tailed Colin all night.

To round out my GW alums, a cameo was made by a certain friend of mine: Matt Gultanoff. This puts his cummulative number of rides for the year at nearly half of a half a dozen. Yes, I meant to say it that way.

I'm just gonna keep droppin' names because it was fun as hell with so many familiar faces. I was so excited. I probably knew 75% of the folks out there last night. Dan Drumwright and big Cliff from Route 1 Velo. Danny and the other Danny from V-Day. Steve Carlson, my friend from the days back at GW crew, made his first showing at the sprints with our friend Mike Brindza from UMD who's also a GW crew alum.

Notably absent last night were some of the Bike Rack boys, though. I saw Lance at one point, heading in the opposite direction, but they're usually fired up to knock some socks off. Well, the NCVC train has been ramping up our "sprints" ride, bringing more of the stars and bars out. We picked it up a good bit in their absence, and I think we did a pretty good job. We had a frikken' army in red and white.

My main lead-out man, D-Wis, showed up early enough to dabble in the sprints all night. Chris Carraway and Nate Hakken worked flawlessly with D-Wis and I a bunch, with some help from our newest Cat 4 teammate Dan Schwartz, who was wearing his GW kit. A new NCVC Cat 5 named Andrew has been solidifying himself as a regular on Thursday nights, as has my boy Harry, one of the NCVC Juniors looking to upgrade to race with us 4s. Later in the night, Drew Armstrong was safely doing intervals on his own, Chris Chapel joined up, and another NCVC guy on a cervelo started insulting us all with his nutty speed.

Lastly, I was able to take a great cool-down lap at the end of the night with Catherine. She had chosen the route of not threatening her life insurance policy in the sprints, riding next to Mark, Lauren, and Seth on their fixies.

So how'd the sprints go? Well, let's just say by the end of the night Nate told Catherine that I was going to be full of myself. (She appropriately responded that I am always full of myself.) But let's keep things in check.

What's better than winning the gold medal in the Special Olympics? Not being a retard. Yeah, I had tons of fun being the king sh*t on turd island.

It was great practice for me but darnit, Nate, you boys were in charge. I'm pretty sure the only sprint I won where I wasn't wheelsucking a guy in my own jersey was the first one, and I hadn't even warmed up yet. It just kept getting better.

I don't remember the order in which all the sprints happened - you get dizzy going in circles all night - but I remember many of the small details. And I don't want to forget 'em.

Like I said, I jumped into the group - rolling 40 strong - on my first lap. With no warm-up, I followed the right wheels and won the sprint, mainly because Cliff from R1V took the gutter route as the leadouts headed to the left.

I was first to the line again on the next lap, too. Early in the evening there are tons of riders just trying to hang on for dear life in the group, so I was forced to bridge about four huge gaps, eventually sitting behind tall Danny on V-Day where I was able to recover. The guy attacked, and I can wheelsuck big guys with ease. Right when he sat down, I stood up. I asked Colin, "Two for two, I met my quota, can I go home yet?"

On my third lap, with some positioning help from D-Wis, I took it one-two with Colin on my wheel. Three for three. He told me to go home, but I didn't oblige.

After three super-fast sprints, the group was pulled over by the po-po and I was just feeling the burn of an absurdly stupid warm-up. Colin and I turned around like criminals to avoid getting ticketed, but then the group started rolling. While we TT'd off the back to catch back up, my boy and protege Dan Schwartz won the next sprint. Heck yeah.

I should say one thing, to my own credit here. I don't sit in the group the entire frikken time. I always take my pulls, but leave just an ounce of gas in my tank to stand up and accelerate to get back in line early enough for the inevitable accelerations that will happen before the sprint. I don't want to be left in the dust, I want to contend. But I won't contend if I haven't done my share of the grunt work. I'm either at the front, or at the back. Sometimes, though, I'm off the front.

A lap or two after the incident with the badge, I found myself drilling the pace at the front on the tailwind sprint-side. I was probably 40 feet off the front for a mile with a guy or two on my wheel. When I looked back, I also saw Danny and Danny in their V-Day kits chasing us, to no avail. I kept hearing someone scream my name, and I really was kinda panicked, thinking something was wrong.

I kept looking around more and more, and eventually just kept sprinting. At the line, only my two best men - Colin and D-Wis - came around me in a fit of rage. I sat up, smiling. Turns out Colin had been yelling "Dammit Bert!" at me. Then he told me, "Dammit Bert does not mean 'slow down,' it means, 'you're killing it... and killing me'."

Nate Hakken will actually get Kudos for the best lead-out of the night, a non-existent award I'd usually default to my boy D-Wis. On one sprint around 7pm, Nate was coming up solo to the left of the main train, in the wind. I was pretty far back, and simply said his name. The guy looked back once, and he knew. Nate just kept his steady, strong rhythm and pulled me to the front. When I said "More!" behind him, he kept going like the little engine that f*ckin' could and dropped nearly everyone for me. My job was made pretty simple.

Feeling like total crap after a few gung-ho efforts, I sat farther back in the train that I usually do. A few wheels ahead of me I saw Drew looking back, with Chris Carraway on his wheel. Drew gave Chris the signal to be ready for the lead-out, so I moved on up. Unknowingly to Drew, Chris perfectly let me in the train so we were 3-strong with some of our boys farther up dragging everyone around. Drew accelerated with 1k to go, then I came around sprinting for 100 meters to go. At about the time Chris was coming around me he was cut-off by a minivan so we called off the sprint, but nobody was near us. It was awesome.

The next lap, I caught on to Dan Drumwright's wheel. Dan wheelsurfed his way up, then took off pretty darn early with only me on his wheel, giving me a clear shot to the front. Not bad and a monster pull from my R1V buddy.

My last hard lap of the night was kinda interesting. I had blasted all of my fast-twitch fibers to smitherines. Drew Armstrong had been out all evening doing 5-minute intervals on his own, and for a few of the laps we'd been using him as the early-pace setter. I sat two wheels behind Drew and one other teammate I can't remember. Coming around the curve, Drew kept his steady pace but my teammate couldn't stay in the wind for long.

Cue my moment of fury. After about 4 minutes, Drew wasn't going quite fast enough to lead out the sprints, and my other boy was dying quickly in the wind. I drove it into the wind, very gradually unleashing the last bits of energy I had. Drew had been cruising around 24 mph with a headwind. I didn't want any dangerous swarming happening when guys sprinted, so I picked up the pace at the front of the group to string things out to 28ish with a tailwind.

Then I went totally aero-tiny, sitting on only the tip of the saddle with my head centimeters above the stem, hands way high on the hoods and crushing it for as long as possible a la Cancellara. I gunned it, leaving nothing in the tank. When I looked down at my computer, it said 32.7. I held that speed for what seemed like a good long while, just begging for my legs to keep up their high cadence.

Eventually I had to pull off and watch the sprint from arears. I was so far into the zone that I had no clue who was on my wheel. Little did I know it was Dan Schwartz the entire time, or I'd have kept going a bit more. (I say that now, but it's hard to remember pain. I'm sure that in that exact moment, I would have told myself to f*ck off.)

Either way, I sometimes talk a word or two to my teammates if they're leading me out - like I said "more!" to Nate earlier in the evening. I think communication like that is essential when the going gets tough. Pain takes over the mind, and a word here or there from a teammate keeps us all alert. Maybe it gives us the strength to keep going even if only for another 10 meters. Maybe, just maybe, that 10 meters can make all the difference 1000 meters later.

I think that if you ever needed to find motivation in yourself, you can always find motivation in your teammates and friends. Since I've joined NCVC, I've had a blast meeting guys, riding with them, and working our nuts off for each other. If you choose to really appreciate it, the selflessness of a few guys can go a long way to keep you motivated.

Last night I had a frikken' blast. I was riding aggressively with my NCVC teammates, each of whom I'm also glad I can call a good friend. But there were a few other faces out there last night that I've suffered with in the past on the GW crew team and the GW cycling team. Well, one of those good friends just joined the stars & bars of NCVC after a very successful collegiate season with zero teammates. Like I did, I hope he can find what he's looking for in this team.

Dan, I brought up an extra NCVC jersey for you. I think you earned it last night.

Happy Friday, folks. See you on the road.

In the Words of the Professionals

I've seen a lot of good words coming from the Pro's in interviews on VeloNews, Cycling News, and a few other good cycling sites this week. Here are some highlights:


"It was such a satisfying win because I knew I wasn’t the strongest guy in the breakaway. I stuck to my plan and let the other guys attack themselves to death and I just held out to the end. That really played to my favor."
~ Simon Gerrans (Cervelo Test Team), on winning a stage of the '08 TdF


"It’s a pro race, you should be allowed to race your bike," he said. "If we are skipping ProTour races to do a non-ProTour event, then it makes sense. But you should never, never, never just not allow a rider to race his bike. ... Every man should be afforded the right to work."
~ Chris Horner, on allowing ProTour riders to race non-ProTour events



"We are just going to come out and try to win the race with three guys. Instead of a Sherman tank, we have a couple of bazookas."
~ Mike Sayers, Team BMC Director, on racing the Tour of Gila with a short roster.


"It was very demanding, so you could never do the same thing in training. If you could, God bless you then, because you’d have to have some serious mental power to smash the pedals like that in training."
~ Christian Vandevelde, on using the Giro to prep for Le Tour


“If you haven’t broken your collarbone, you haven’t ridden long enough,”
~ Ben Day (Fly V Australia-Successful Living), in the NY Times


Finally my favorite quote of the week:

"The most brutal attack I ever saw came from Gianni Bugno. I almost gave up racing watching him attack."
~ Joe Parkin (author, former pro), on "all-around" cyclists


Cheers.