vomitus maximus

After an awesome ride at Warrior Creek with Owen, Golden and Jeff, sickness hit shortly upon our arriving home. Owen rocked out an hour and a half on the trail and got to experience that sweet, deep, coma-like sleep that comes after a long and satisfying bike ride. We got home and Owen crawled into bed, still pooped. We called him to dinner and he got up, but hardly touched his food. He took a shower to get all the mud splatter from the trail off of him, and then went back to bed. At about 9:30, he showed up in the living room fire engine red, crying, and saying he didn't feel good. Needless to say, a 102 F fever and some vomiting later and we figured school was out of the question.

Monday, Golden stayed home with him and it was more of the same: fever, lethargy, nausea. I stayed home with him Tuesday and after a rough start to the day, he perked up and we actually got to enjoy what turned out to be the first real spring day of the year. How awesome were the warm temperatures, bright sunshine, cool breeze, and blooming flowers after a mild, yet no less depressing, winter?

Thanks to the time change and the break in the weather, it seems that the group ride season is fast upon us. Anticipate group ride announcements through the forum in the coming days. Not a member of the forum? Then go join so you can keep in the loop, add to the loop, loop de loop, etc...  In addition, we are putting all of our winter clothing inventory on sale! If it covers your knees, elbows, fingertips, or the top of your head (under your helmet) it's on sale! Let's hasten the demise of cold weather for the year!

The Unbearable Lightness of Cycling

In just a couple of hours, I will be heading out for a group ride. While yesterday we experienced unseasonable weather with temps in the 70's, more reasonable weather rolled in in the evening and it will probably be more in the 50's with fairly significant wind. Nevertheless, a ride with friends (everybody who shows up on a bike at a group ride is a friend unless they prove otherwise...) will be a good way to spend some time no matter what the weather.

I decided to build my Trek steel frame back up as a single speed. It's a plain gray color now, a far cry from the teal with lavender lug cutouts paint job that it originally sported when I found it "under" the tree on Christmas Day in 1986. Golden laughed at me when she found me in the basement running brake cables on it late Thursday night. "You can't stand seeing a bike frame unbuilt, can you?" she said. That made me think of a picture I had seen that same day.

The librarian I work with, Karen, was discarding old books from our collection and placed a very old book about cycling on my desk. It was a british book from the '80's and it's buying advice was predominately toward buying anything with the word Campagnolo on it. But the first picture in the book was of the interior of a bike shop with rows of steel bike frames hanging from the ceiling. I remember walking into bike shops set up the same way. Those rows of frames represented limitless possibility to me. A frame can be built up with an infinite number of parts in an infinite number of configurations, but they all come together in a harmonious whole that ultimately represents freedom. I have never lost that love of being mobile by my own strength, flying just above the ground under my own power. Cycling will be the longest running love affair of my life.

Last year, I set a goal to ride outside at least 1 mile every day. I rode 365 days in a row for a total of 4200 miles. This year, I've set a goal to run 1 mile outside every day, plus ride as much as I can and my goal mileage is 4500 miles. Running is much more of an effort than riding. It isn't a habit like riding is for me.

scene from my morning commute

I ran to work on Thursday. Several of my colleagues came to me concerned when they saw me walk in without a bike. One teacher had passed me running in her car and panicked thinking that something had happened to me on my morning ride and that I had abandoned my mangled bike somewhere and started running in to work. She was upset when she came to check on me. Once I explained to people that I ran to work instead of riding, I sensed my already tenuous label of "eccentric" veering dangerously close to "crazy". Oh well...

It's actually a race! For real!

Who would have thought that the Tour would be in the state that it is in now? A frenchman in yellow in the final five days? All of the main GC threats still clustered together within just a few minutes? Alberto Contador unable to punch home one of his trademark huge jump in the mountains attacks?

After years of seeing the same formulaic racing where the eventual winner does one big day in the mountains and then plays defense for the last week and a half until the final time trial allows him to stamp his seal on the race and call it good, we are actually seeing a race of seconds. We're seeing men probing and shadow boxing, taking a few seconds here and there, but not the attack that takes minutes away and all but ends the Tour early. It's exciting!

Laurent Fignon, the last frenchman
to wear yellow into Paris

After such a crash filled first week, the race has recovered and some truly amazing performances have come out of it. Pierre Rolland of Europcar continues to impress as he slays himself in defense of Thomas Voekler's yellow jersey. It is great to see a wild card team make it to the biggest race of the year and actually do more than just get some tv time by throwing lambs to the slaughter in the early no-hoper breaks of each day's stage.

The next three days will be the make or break days of the Tour. The underdog lover in me would like to see Voekler gut it out in the Alps and go into saturday's time trial with a minute of his lead still intact and then turn himself inside out for 24 miles and keep the yellow jersey by seconds into Paris. The rationalist in me knows that this is so improbable that not even Voekler thinks it is realistic. My prediction for Voekler is a final spot on the podium in Paris, but thursday and friday will have to see him ride like an immortal to make that a reality.

Stage 18 and Stage 19 should be days of major warfare. The Schlecks have to take time in the mountains to survive the time trial assaults of Contador and Evans. Look for Samuel Sanchez to try to ride onto the podium with a stage win in one of these two hard days. The only thing I know for sure is that I haven't been this excited in the final week of the Tour in years.

We've got a few things rolling at the shop right now. We're putting together an order for pink Luna kits. You can get a jersey, shorts or just about anything else in fabulous pink! I'm hoping to rock the pink long-sleeved skinsuit for cyclocross this season... Also, in honor of all the successes of Specialized sponsored teams and riders at the Tour, we are selling the 2012 S-Works Prevail helmet (MSRP $230) for $199! You can order any color offered for that price. These helmets are unbelievable light and incredibly well ventilated - a must for surviving the heat we are experiencing now. And believe it or not, if you are having thoughts of cyclocross this season, now is the time to be seriously getting your affairs in order with regard to 'cross specific items like frames, brakes and tires. Most everything is available now, but by mid August pickings start to get pretty slim.

Now get out and ride!

Cycling Karma

You've got to wonder sometimes if there is a certain natural order in the professional cycling world that rights wrongs beyond the scope of UCI, WADA or any other authority. Then again, it may just be the natural ebb and flow of changing fortunes as careers rise and fall. This opening week has seen a typically nervous and eager Tour de France peloton crashing hard and often.

Alberto Contador goes into the mountains with a deficit to his chief rivals, but also with the extra efforts of several chases back to the peloton and the commensurate bumps and bruises that come from "touching the floor". Is it just bad luck? or does the Tour enforce its own code of ethics on its participants?

Radio Shack have suffered mightily, but I think their woes are less of the karmic kind and more an example of going in to a major race without a clear goal in mind. A disciplined outfit like Radio Shack, who are more accustomed to going in to the Tour with the singular purpose of putting Lance Armstrong on the top podium are now like an elite fighting force without a leader. Sure they are good on paper. Sure they have several guys who could step up and be "the one", but without that clear, decisive leader they are riding without much direction or fire and the large number of crashes and losses they have suffered so far are the result of that kind of listlessness.

This theory does little to explain the broken collarbone of Bradley Wiggins who looked to be an interesting threat this year. But then again, I've been watching British Eurosport coverage of the Tour and to say that they had a bit of bias would be a definite understatement. I though that commentator David Duffield was going to start crying on air when Wiggins was seen holding his collarbone. Commentator Sean Kelly serves as the nice, dry Irish counterpoint to all of the English wingeing. His subtle, rapier-like comments are great and he truly struggles to try and be magnanimous when he is asked about riders that he raced with in the '80's and '90's. His struggles to try to say something nice about Djomoladine Abdoujaporov, "the Tashkent terror", were painfully comical as he broke down exactly why Abdou was a dangerous sprinter to be around.



But let us not forget the Luna Cycles p/b Whoever wants to give us money Fantasy Tour de France and my complete and utter domination of the first week in this prestigious Fantasy cycling event. It goes without saying that Team Roadspeeder is in this thing to win it and if we make the other fantasy teams look silly in the process, so be it.

A funny thing happened on the march to summer...

Arrival at OVT for an early morning mid-week shred

I've finally decompressed from the school year and relaxed into the summer break. Those last weeks of school when end of course testing is the focus of all of your efforts and energy, when you spend half of each day walking around a silent room watching students take a test for two and a half hours is a kind of slow torture that bleeds the life out of you. Then it's over and BOOM!, you fly headlong into a dizzying bachanal of over the top summer stress release that is akin to rising from a dive to quickly and getting the Bends. But finally, you settle in to a a nice mode of relaxing and being productive with all of the things that you put off during the school year.

Jeff Welch giving an impromptu skills clinic

This has been the time when I have fallen in love with mountain biking again and I must share this new fervor with you. I must come completely clean that I will now be proselytizing for the Church of the One True Gear. I strayed from the fold for many years. My embracing of the single speed mountain bike was a dabble really. I never fully committed; never truly gave my heart over to what I knew to be right. I always held back, always had the geared bike to fall back on, but friends, I have embraced the single speed with all of my heart and there is no turning back!

I look down at my bars and see nothing but brake levers and a clean expanse of carbon fiber. I ride securely in the knowledge that I will miss no shift. I can concentrate on flowing with the trail and seeking a oneness with the ride. It is a beautiful thing.

This Saturday marks the beginning of another Tour de France, but the real drama will happen in the Luna Cycles p/b Whoever wants to give us money Fantasy Tour de France. All of the fantasy thrills and fantasy spills that you have come to expect each summer will once again drive home the fact that we may not be good at much, but we are some solid fantasy TdF Directeur Sportifs. Go to Velogames to register your free team and then join our mini league by using the mini league code 28111322. Prize list has not been finalized, but rest assured it will not be worth all of the fantasy training and fantasy stress that you have and will undergo over the next few grueling weeks.

Don't forget that the start of the Tour marks the end of our Giro cycling shoe sale. All of our Giro cycling shoes are 40% off while they last!

Lightening up

The last months of school leading in to the summer are a time that seems fraught with stress and a sense of too much to do and not enough time to do it in. Coupled with the final graduate school projects of the semester and you have a recipe for "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy". But now, there is light at the end of the tunnel and it isn't a train about to run me over. I'm feeling everything about me letting go from the stress; I feel lighter.

I've had the good fortune to do some really great bike rides this past month. Cycle to Serve was unbelievably fast as my first experience with the 62 mile version proved to be a barn burner. The best part was getting to ride with Golden and some of our teammates in the second group on the road. The weather was cool, the rain held off and we rode a strong pace. The next day was The Ascent at Reynolds Blue Ridge. Two words: effin' steep. I climbed 9 miles in 1 hour and 4 minutes and had an epiphany that compact cranks would be a good thing to have. The views were spectacular and once you reached the top, you looked out on an endless sea of rolling green hills spread out in all directions. The folks at Reynolds Blue Ridge treated us like honored guests. Put that ride on your calendar for next year!

Two of my rides stand out as some of the best moments in my life and they all happened in the last couple of weeks. The first was on my morning commute the day after the bad thunderstorms rolled through. The rain had poured down, blowing hard against the house and strong winds ripped trees apart and scattered them all over town. I hit the underpass on 321 and rolled through, only registering a man laying down after I had gone by him. I have to admit that I thought he was dead the way he was laying there awkwardly. I turned around and asked, "Are you ok?"
No response.
"Are you ok?" He rolled over *sense of relief* and said he had gotten into the underpass to escape the storm.
"It got real bad," he said. I poured him some of my coffee and split part of my lunch with him. He said, "I'm not gonna lie mister, I could use a beer." Well hell, it's 7:30 am on a Tuesday and I'm heading off to teach High School students about Magnetism, I understand that sentiment completely.
"Well, coffee is the next best thing, so drink up."
We talked a little bit, he kept asking me to pray for him. I don't pray, but I have thought about him quite a bit since then. I think our interaction did more for me than it did for him. That quick realization that I could easily share what I had and be no worse for it was immense. It was a good reminder.

The best ride I've ever had happened this past Sunday. We headed out to Dark Mountain. I rode a lap with Jeremiah the FNG and a couple of guys we met in the parking lot. We ripped around, I crashed (and laughed about it), we talked about bikes and made one of those quick friendships that seem to naturally occur on the trail. I got back and got Owen ready for his first big mountain bike adventure on his own bike. We've ridden trail together with him on the tag-a-long and he did a little offroad on his own at the Aquatic Center, but this was going to be the first real mountain biking he'd ever tackled on his own. We pushed up a steep little rise and caught a climb up to the corridor trail. He rode some of the climb on his own, but his gear is just way too big for sustained climbing, so we walked some too. Golden was out trail running and she heard us, so she decided to come join us. We pushed up a very steep rise to the main corridor trail and Owen rode while Golden ran. At the end of the corridor trail, we turned around and started riding back and Golden kept going to finish her run.

The best thing about riding with Owen is he constantly talks about anything and everything. He especially likes to talk about being faster than me. We rode to the very steep descent at the beginning of the corridor trail and I told Owen we should get off and walk it down to the next trail junction.
"No," he said, "I can ride it."
Well, I am not standing in the way of that kind of commitment. Whether he rode it or not, I wasn't going to kill his confidence.
"Stay on the brakes and stay in control." I said.
We pointed the bikes down and I rode the brakes to show him a reasonable speed. I didn't hear anything as we rode down, so I assumed he was remaining upright. I got to the bottom and came to a stop. Owen shot past me and started heading down the next trail.
"Dude! Did you ride that whole thing?" I asked.
"Yeah." he said in that little kid no-big-deal tone.
"You ready to do the next down hill?" I asked.
"Yes!" he said with more than a little excitement.
We got onto the next trail which wasn't as steep, but was much more technical with lots of rock, roots, dips and turns. He rode behind me. Wiped out a time or two. Led down the trail a bit. Passed a couple of riders who were climbing up, making quite the sight: this rail thin 4 year old all knees and elbows riding a little bmx bike down the trail with confidence. I'm idiotically proud.

The beautiful win

photo by Frederik De Buck

Out of respect for my riding partners yesterday, I didn't write anything about the beautiful win of Johan Van Summeren at Paris-Roubaix since they had yet to see the race. I woke up yesterday morning, fired up Eurosport and a pot of coffee and settled down to watch my favorite race of the year.

The dry, dusty conditions and sunny skies can easily make you think that Paris-Roubaix is an easy race, but then you notice the choking clouds of dust, the hurtling of flesh and metal to the ground without rhyme or reason and you see that L'Enfer du Nord has a vast array of ways to take a toll on those who attempt it.

Van Summeren was the unlikely hero of the day, not because he is incapable of greatness, but simply that that is not his lot in cycling life. He is a worker; a domestique. Granted, he is an exceptionally good one, but imagine being paid not to win, but to cut through the wind and slog so that others may find their way to glory and accolades. Van Summeren was the dutiful worker, out in the early break of 2nd tier hopefuls and other riders acting as rabbits to the pack of hounds cooling their heels in the peloton until the awful moment when they get down to the business of winning a bike race and sweep the early break away with seemingly little effort.

It was the worker in Van Summeren that set off alone out of that break in the close of the race. A human hedged bet played by the Directeur Sportif. "Go it alone" would have been the call and Van Summeren wold have set off not really to win, but to provide a last line of defense for his team captain following the call to glory. Van Summeren would have done that last bit of work for Thor Hushovd had Fabian Cancellara followed his usual script and towed Hushovd and Allesandro Ballan towards the velodrome in Roubaix.

But Cancellara's failure of imagination, his notion that with 50k to go he would simply dig deep, unleash a powerful surge and ride men off of his wheels on his way to another Paris-Roubaix win was not to be. As happened in the Tour of Flanders, the other strong men have grown wise to this strategy and nullified it. Cancellara's decision to back off and insist on the other men's help in reaching the velodrome had consequences for all at the head of affairs yesterday. For Van Summeren, it was the most awful consequence of all, the weight of possible glory now piled on to his lanky, tired frame. 

You can see a lifetime of suffering in the slump and roll of a riders shoulders as they squeeze every single watt from their fragile body and Van Summeren's lanky frame was no exception. Moments of self doubt were writ large upon him, but some internal voice willed him back to effort and the beautiful hand that Fate had played him. 

Van Summeren rode in the wheel tracks of other domestique breakaways. Thomas Wegmuller and Dirk De Mol in 1988 came through the streets of Roubaix on a similar day as yesterday. A plastic bag lodged in the rear derailleur of Wegmuller's bike, rendering shifting impossible and making him easy prey for De Mol in the sprint. Or the less successful Patrick Versluys who raced Paris-Roubaix 8 times in his career, never finishing less than 15th and who, in 1987, came to the race with the single-minded purpose of winning. Versluys was the unlikeliest of potential winners, but he seized the moment in an early breakaway in awful wet, snowy conditions and rode with fire as those around and behind him faltered and crashed. The mighty Sean Kelly rode as blood flowed down the side of his head and mixed with the mud that covered the right side of his body. Like so many before him, Roubaix proved to be about 800 meters too far from Versluys. Eric Vanderaerden, the dutch star from Panasonic, roared up to the beleaguered group of unlikely stars and announced, "I'm here!" before unleashing his trademark sprint and dashing Versluys to the second step of the podium.

Surely Van Summeren was too lost in a shroud of effort to think of these things. Then the powerful, aquiline form of Fabian Cancellara bent to the bars and cranks and began the inexorable drag race to the velodrome in Roubaix. Second after second was taken back. Van Summeren felt the blue cobbles of Pave Secteur 1 under his wheels and looked back nervously wondering if he would see the stalking form of death metronomically grinding away with awful power the last few meters that separated him from "the catch". But Van Summeren saw nothing but empty road behind him as he swung the right turn onto the concrete velodrome. He hit the blue apron, mashed the last bit of effort out of his spent body and crossed the line. I imagine the first thing he felt was not a sense of wonder or glory, but of relief. 

Chapeau, Johan.