Morning glory

Almost every morning in the winter of 2008/2009, I was up at 4:45 and on the bike by 5. Sixty to 90 minutes later, I was done, off and running into the rest of the day.

Why?

Well, that's just when I had time to do it. And when I didn't have to do it at that time, I stopped. Because, really, who wants to get up that damn early and hurt themselves intentionally?

This morning, with temperatures in the upper 50s and no wind to speak of, I rolled down the driveway a little after 6. I get up between 5:15 and 5:30 pretty much every morning to work on GamJams stuff anyway, so it's not a terribly difficult stretch to be ready to ride by 6.

This morning was cool and crisp. There's a special smell in the air at that time of day. I don't know what it is, but I love it. And I missed it. A couple of summers ago, a lot of my best work — in terms of training — was done early on summer mornings. With Chris out of school, I'm going to hopefully get back into that swing. I should be able to add at least one, maybe two more days on the bike. And that will probably make a difference.

I'll know how big of a difference when we get to July. Hopefully you will, too.

This might leave a mark

When Floyd Landis in yellow, then out of yellow, then charged back into it in 2006, I watched in awe. I mean, the story was so great — kid comes from an out-of-the ordinary upbringing to win the Tour? Cool.

Even when he was busted and toured the world declaring his innocence, I figured something wasn't quite right. He swore he didn't do synthetic testosterone during the Tour. He probably didn't. The problem was that he was doing a dozen other things. So, technically, he was innocent. Of the testosterone, at least.

When he unleashed the "I did it and everybody else did, too," screed, I wasn't surprised. It seemed really Jose Canseco-like. You know, crazy former star spills the beans, everybody rolls their eyes and life moves on. But someone says, "Wait, let's investigate this."

Months later, people say, "Whoa, Jose was right."

A number of stories came out yesterday that could lead to the "Floyd is right" moment. No accusations here, just precise, detailed information on how to dope without being detected. If this is legit — and I get the feeling it is — watch out. Things are going to fall apart soon.

The first article is here, on ESPN.com. The second is here, on CyclingNews. Finally, here is a piece in the latest Sports Illustrated.

If it all rings true — or even close to true — I won't express surprise. Disappointment, sure, but not surprise. I long ago stopped believing in the purity of sports. The only really pure guys are the ones I race with (well, mostly at least). They have jobs, families and a dozen other responsibilities. Some days they ride really well, some days they don't.

They're the clean ones. But that's easy to do when there's no money involved. It's just for fun, you know? What better reason is there to ride?

On a roll

Yesterday morning, before he was even dressed, Jack asked if he could go outside and play. I told him that, since it was only 6:20, we should probably wait until after daycare to play outside.

"I could go ride my bike then," he said.

"Yes you can, buddy. Let's do that when we get home."

True to form, he asked about playing outside as soon as we got home. So we got his bike out and got to it. And for the first time, he actually rode it.

He's been on it lots of times, but he only gets a few feet before stopping. In this picture above, our driveway is the next one down from where he is. He rode the whole way by himself, and was still moving when I took that shot.

"Daddy, I'm having so much fun!" he yelled.

Despite the fact that he makes exclamatory statements like this every five minutes or so — "Macaroni and cheese is the best!", "I love this Lightning McQueen car!" — I could tell he actually was having a lot of fun. I think he realized he was finally getting it, too.

We ended up making the trip up and down the sidewalk two or three more times. He got better and better as we went along. He showed off for Chris when she got home, and he climbed off with a sense of pride.

It's gonna be a fun summer.

Starting over

Well, the weekend proved that I don't totally suck. Based on feedback received through the spring, I thought there was a pretty good shot that I did, indeed, suck. I'm glad to be on the right side of that one.

But now what?

Well, I need to keep working to fend off the inevitable improvement in form that most everybody will undergo between now and July. I'm probably going to take it pretty easy this week, mostly because I don't have a ton of time to do anything but take it pretty easy. Hopfully I'll get some good, long miles in over the weekend — since I have three days and all.

Then it'll be the Norfolk weekend, which I'll probably just train through. Good results would be nice, but pretty much everything is a stepping stone to actually becoming relevant once again in the peloton.

I'll be skipping the state TT on June 12, mostly because there aren't enough people to man the shop. If I go, Frank is in charge. And if that's the case, I might as well stay gone, because he'll burn the place down.

And then it'll be the Omaha weekend in July. That's been on my calendar for more than a year. I think it made its first appearance on June 19, 2009, actually. I like to plan ahead.

50/50

Slowly, week by week, I've been getting faster. A good chunk of that could probably be traced to continued recovery from busting myself up. It's hard to believe it's been almost a year.

Probably the biggest change for me, racing-wise, has come in the last week or two. For whatever reason — and I honestly have no idea what it is or why — I feel like I'm finally back in the right mindset. I was excited to race, knowing full well that it was going to be really, really painful.

Saturday — Capital City Criterium
This was the race where last year I made my return from face-diving. It was a 1/2/3 race last year, which means it was fast as hell. I hadn't done a ton of cornering before the race, so the speed freaked me out pretty quickly.

This year, after one warmup lap, I was good. I remembered all of the lines, all of the angles. I was psyched to mix it up.

In retrospect, I probably would have been better off lining up closer to the front. But official race time was different than the time on my watch, somehow, so I wasn't exactly ready to roll when they announced one lap left of the women's race before us.

I hustled to the car, swapped wheels, zipped over to the wheel pit and got in line. And when the whistle blew, I kicked my pedal ... three times. Ugh.

Once I got in, I got back in the pack pretty quick. Whew. Crisis averted. But then, about three laps in, I looked up and noticed there was a gap. Huh. I'd been hitting the corners hard and holding wheels and then ... the peloton just rolled away.

I went into chase mode, but blew pretty quickly. The HRM confirmed what I thought — we were going fast as hell. I regrouped with the Big Puma and a few others, and we started rolling up and picking up the remnants of the peloton.

In the end, Puma did a good chunk of the work and I just tried to hold on. I'm not entirely sure it would have been any different in the peloton. It looked like we were holding our gap well for most of the race, but I was so cross-eyed I wouldn't have known if we were two laps down.

In short, I was not last and I did not crash. But I didn't exactly go fast. And when we were done, i was soooo sore. The sit bones/taint region was in some serious trouble. It was a static, aggressive position for an hour. Ouch.

After drinking a ton of water and taking it easy the rest of the night, I was really looking forward to Sunday.

Sunday — Pioneers Park Grand Prix
The nature of Saturday's race made it a hard one for me. I'm just not ready for that constant, super-hard pace. And since I wasn't in the safety of the peloton, I was forced to work that much harder.

I knew Sunday would be more to my liking. A bit of uphill, a bit of downhill, a bit of a longer race. No 45-minute throwdowns here.

I planned on running my carbon wheels, and when I took a lap of the course an hour or so before the race, I knew it was going to be a good day for them. But as I was warming up on the trainer, I heard a really big bang. I must have had a pinch in the tube, and for whatever reason it ruptured while resting against the car. Huh.

No problem, though, as I always have three or four spare tubes with me. Turns out, though, that the bang blew the tire off the rim. In the process, it ripped the bead of the tire. So ... no carbon wheels for me. I wasn't going to mess with it — not when I had a perfectly good Dura-Ace/Ultegra setup going.

I got to the line and rolled right to the front. "No way I'm getting stuck this time," I thought. When the whistle blew, I clipped in, got rolling and led for the first third of the lap. It felt nice to get in and get rolling again. I knew I'd have to be on the ball to stay in the pack.

Yeah, that's where I am right now. Aiming for a pack finish. If more comes out of it, so be it. But before I can be on the podium, I have to be in the pack.

The attacks came where I figured they'd come, so I was ready to go most of the time. One interesting thing I noticed was gearing on the big hill. I'm more of a spinner, so my experience with this course told me I needed to go down to the small ring up the hill. Most everybody else big-ringed it every time. Huh.

Up and over the top with five or six laps left, Vaughn Pierce took off and nobody gave chase. As soon as we got over the worst of the hill, I threw it back into the big ring and took off after him. I knew it was a longshot, but I had to at least try something.

When I caught him and told him to keep rolling, our move was quickly countered by Jeff Kluck. And then it was countered again by Saturday's winner. Lots of desperate moments followed, and for a moment the pack rolled away from me.

I dug down into a pretty dark place and got back on in about 20 seconds, but it was close. I knew I had to play it smarter the rest of the way. With three laps left, another attack came on the hill. I got gapped again, and had to really fight with the tailwind to get back. I figured there'd be another surge as soon as I got on — there always is — but I lucked out. Whew.

Coming into the final lap, I knew it was going to be ugly. But I still felt pretty solid. Depending upon when and where the last attack happened, I might be able to do something.

Up the hill for the last time, the surge was bigger than it had been the rest of the day. I just didn't have enough snap to get on with it.

And that's where my only real "what if" moment of the weekend came. Maybe I should have tried to climb it in the big ring that last time? Bigger gear, but no reason to save anything. Also, the next guy after me was a few minutes back. So, really, I had nothing to lose.

Next time, I guess. I can't wait for next time.

(Now to go GamJams Midwest and check out a ton of photos from the weekend. The photo above was stolen from Mark.)

I am not afraid

Lucas took this picture.

A year ago, I jumped into the Capital City Criterium and spent an hour on the verge of tears, hyperventilation and complete breakdown. Yeah, I was a mess. Twitchy, scared, overwhelmed.

But I was pretty fit. Chris mentioned that I looked like I was about to fall off the back the whole time. Actually, I was perfectly fine sitting in the back. I felt way less stressed there than in the middle of everything. Had I needed to move up and bridge a gap, I could have. I just really didn't want to.

Now, a year later, with even more ammunition for my yips, I'm actually fairly pumped up about getting on that course tomorrow. I know it's not because I'm super-fit or anything. On the contrary, I'm probably at a fairly severe disadvantage compared to the rest of the field.

But man, I'm excited.

In which I beam optimism

I'm not sure -- and there's no way to measure it right now -- but I think I might be getting faster.

True story.

Wednesday Night Worlds blasted off like always, and I was right there. And then I was right there a little longer than last time. And then I wasn't right there. I kind of expected that part.

But I felt good. Strong. My back was cranky a little at first, but not too bad. And at the end of the day, I still felt good.

What that means for the weekend, I have no idea. I'd like to think I can hold my own in a pack of fellow Cat. 3s, though. Sure, I might not be able to jump out for premes, try to establish a break or bridge to a move that got away, but I think I'll be OK.

It's been a while since I felt that way. I hope that's a good sign.

Not yet

The new saw blade is sharp. Super-sharp. The saw has the power to rip through this kind of wood, no problem.

The battery, however, isn't supplying that power.

Seriously, one thing after another. I'm just trying to cut some wood. Please just let me do it.

I got a new battery yesterday, which goes with the new saw blade, and -- at last -- boards were cut. Of course, it took all day for it to charge, and by the time it was ready to go, Chris needed to get outside to work on her garden.

So, slowly, this deck is getting done. If not for the races this weekend, I could probably knock it out on Sunday. Luckily, I race at 11ish, so there will still be time in the afternoon. And with the three-day weekend coming up, that should do it.

I hope.

Things I don't know

Yesterday, with a noon reporting time for work, I decided to spend the morning on the deck. You know, because it's not done and everything.

About 20 minutes into the job, it was fairly clear I wasn't getting very far. The saw was just dying 3/4 of the way through the cuts. Do I have a wussy circular saw? Am I that bad at carpentry?

Looking back at the deck itself, and how the boards are nice and straight and properly spaced and everything, I thought, "no way I'm that bad."

But that saw ... .

So I called Dave, who informed me of a fairly easy fix: Just get a new blade, dummy. But the saw isn't that old! There aren't that many cuts on it! Turns out stock blades are crap. $15 later, and I'm ready to rip some stuff up.

And then ... deep breath: mowing, vacuuming, riding. And at some point, I need to shave my legs. I don't even know where to begin.

The weekend's work

Chris and Jack headed out of town for a wedding over the weekend. Since I was gone last weekend and will be racing this coming weekend, I pretty much had to be in the shop this weekend.

Originally, I planned on riding five or six hours on Sunday before doing some yardwork. But then things popped up. A schedule change with a few guys at the shop, which necessitated working on Sunday afternoon.

And then there was this thing.

No, not the dog or the grill — the deck. On Tuesday night we heard a knock at the door a little before 9. It was our neighbor, Dave. We'd been talking with Dave about rebuilding our deck into something a little more ... well, not crappy. Dave does decks for a living, so we figured he'd be the guy to talk with.

He let us know that he had time the next morning to get cracking on it. The plan was for him to pour the footings and build the frame — I'd take it from there. Simple right?

Actually, it was. It was just time-consuming. And no, I'm not done yet. The basics are there, but the railing and steps are next. And yeah, it's flippin' huge — at least compared to our old deck. The grill seemed like it took up about 20 percent of the old space, so ... yeah. Big.

Of course, I spent Saturday morning and evening on prep work under and around the structure. And Sunday morning consumed by laying out, spacing and screwing down the planks. Today it'll be trimming the ends, ripping the last board and then creating a little porthole to get to the water spigot.

Tomorrow, assuming I get all of this done today, will feature a nice, long ride. I'm feeling not too shabby after a little time off, so now I just need to get back to feeling sharp. And then I have to try to remember how to register for races. It's been a while.

Nice to see you

Some days, despite my best intentions, I just don't have time to get a blog post up.

Between family stuff, work stuff (GamJams), work stuff (writing) and work stuff (the shop), there's not a lot of time. Oh, and I'm trying to refinish a playset, repair two fences and build a deck (well, finish a deck).

In between, there's bike time. Note: There's not a lot of bike time.

But the bike time I'm getting is notable for a few reasons: One, it's all been quality bike time. Tuesday's ride, despite the pain, was solid. Same for Wednesday ... in the rain, wind, dark and cold.

Two, I can tell I'm getting tired. I haven't taken a rest week in quite a while. It's been four or five weeks of solid, steady work. Granted, my schedule is a little screwy, but I haven't had good snap for the last week or so.

The plan: Easy through the weekend (that deck is going to take my time), then good efforts on Monday and Wednesday, then race next weekend. Both days. I'm excited. I think it's time to get to it.

Talking to myself

The legs and I had it out yesterday. Along the way, my back chimed in. Yeah, it was really great.

Pretty classic springtime in Nebraska weather, too. Low-to-mid 50s, dark, windy, semi-damp. Ugh. I decided against knee warmers and went for embrocation, which was the right call. I would have been too warm.

Unfortunately, by the time I hit this spot, my back was aching. It's just east of Arlington, and I fought a stiff NW wind to get there. The plan was Blair, then Fort Calhoun, then back through midtown and then home.

I pulled the plug in Blair and decided to just jump the tailwind express from there. Pretty much the whole way home was uncomfortable -- the legs were cooked (remnants of the Sunday run and four-hour car ride home) and the back was worse. Just achy, sore and uncool.

If there are positives -- and there almost always are -- I was going fast pretty much the whole time. 50 miles in 2:35. Fairly solid, really, considering the wind, pain and terrain.

After a nice, easy end to the afternoon and a night of recovery, I'm ready to roll again today. No sweat. And today's weather: 40s, rainy, windy. It's not gonna be nice out there at all. So here's a quote stolen from Mark, who stole it from someone else:

Sean Kelly was asked if he would go out and train on one of those days when you look out of your window and know it's freezing outside. "The thing", he said, "about the cold is that you never can tell exactly how cold it is from looking out a kitchen window. You have to dress up, get out training and when you come back, you then know how cold it was."

That'll be tonight.

The easy part

Showing up on Sunday to run -- and running well -- was the easy part.

The hard part, which I knew was coming, is right now. My hamstrings and I are not on friendly terms. I'm gonna get out on the bike here in a bit and try to talk it out.

I might post pictures later of the conversation. Well, maybe.

Clockwork

"Do you think they'll still be there?"

I don't get out much. Anybody vaguely familiar with my comings and goings knows that. It's daycare, bike shop and home, mostly. Most likely I've traveled farther by bike than by car over the last six months. Lots of long rides, long miles, small towns visited.

But in terms of actually leaving town? Like on vacation? It's been since early January. And before that ... maybe Thanksgiving? Like I said, I don't get out much.

Until this past weekend, it had been two years since I'd been back to Cedar Falls/Waterloo (Iowa). I spent nine years there, from college and a few years beyond, but visits have been sporadic since we left in 2004.

We saw our old house -- it's still the same -- and our old haunts. We visited friends. We did what people do when they visit old homes.

Much has changed, much has stayed the same. Memories come back pretty quickly, and before long you're wondering why you left.

As I was packing on Friday, I tossed in my running clothes.

"Do you think they'll still be there?" Chris asked.

She was talking about the old guys -- a group of runners who have met every Sunday at 7 a.m. since the dawn of time. The meeting place and route haven't changed. And there's no "you going? I'm not" business. The run leaves at 7. If you're there, you're there.

The Sunday run was a mainstay of my running program in my previous life. I built my plan around that 5.5-mile loop. Sometimes it was a fast one, sometimes it was a recovery run. But I was there every single week.

When I pulled up on Sunday, I was the only one there. 6:57. 6:58. I got out of the car and started moving around a bit, stretching lightly. What had the past two years done to the group?

6:59. Two runners emerge from the shadows to the south.

7:00.

Two more from the east, the sun casting long shadows in front of them. And then another from the north, wheeling around the corner just behind the others.

7:01. They're all here. Handshakes. Smiles. Welcome back. I'd say this was all for me, but this is how it is every week.

We take off from the mailbox, a half-dozen watches beeping, marking the start. Conversation marks the first mile. It tails off a bit as the group settles into its pace. Up a short hill, the group is split. Rabbits in front, slow and steady in the back.

By mile three, it's just myself and Mike. The others have fallen back. The pace slowly creeps up, our conversation replaced with steady breathing and footfalls. There's a point near the end where, traditionally, things get really hot.

I was waiting for it, wondering if my bike legs still had something like that in them. But Mike doesn't test them -- we just hold steady the rest of the way in. Back at the mailbox, watches signal the end of the run.

As the sun rose in the sky, the rest of the group came in. We stood by the mailbox, stretching, talking, cooling down.

Then, finally, one of them says, "I'd better get going before I tighten up and can't walk." Everybody nods in agreement and starts to walk away.

They trot off into the morning. Two to the south, two to the east, one to the north. Another walks up the drive into his house.

My earlier fears, however slight, were completely unfounded.

"Of course they'll be there," I told Chris. "They're always there."

It could have been bad

When I saw the teasers for the much-hyped (at least among my cycling friends) KETV story about bicycle commuting, I winced.

"A dangerous commute," said the ominous voice over a dramatic musical score.

Oh, hell.

As someone who's still semi-tied to the media industry (sort of. barely.), I get why the promo was worded and set up like it was: to get people to watch. So I was really, really hoping the teaser was just an attention-grabber, and that the story was actually balanced and thought-out and informative.

And it was. Here it is, replete with comments on the bottom. Pages and pages of comments. Many of them center on the "Cyclists don't follow traffic laws. They make me mad!" argument. Of course, most drivers don't follow traffic laws, either, but nobody's talking about putting them on the sidewalk and out of the way.

Regardless of the argument for or against by anonymous internet posters, this entire issue can be boiled down to a few really easy, key points:

• The city is making an effort to include bicycles in the transportation plan. That's good.
  
• A city official is on record as saying, essentially, "We're doing this, drivers. Get used to it." That's good, too.
• Both parties — drivers and cyclists — need to respect each other. That means following laws, being courteous and not flipping the hell out when something doesn't go exactly according your plan for the day.
  

We're getting there. Now go ride your bike.

Thursday morning post-mortem

It's becoming a weekly tradition by now — exactly how did Wednesday Night Worlds go?

Well, it went like most weeks: pain, suffering, fairly ridiculous speeds ... fun. No, I'm not sure how those things all coalesce into fun, but they do. I love pushing myself farther and farther every time. That's why I started doing marathons way back when: to see if I could.

Last night started off merely OK, though. My legs felt heavy and sluggish, so I didn't really know how things were going to turn out. I got up the first hill fine, though. And then on the long, burning hill, I made it nearly to the top with the leaders. And then I almost reeled in a couple of guys who fell off the leaders. Not bad.

On the next bit of rollers, I was again doing OK, but then got struck by a bit of bad luck. I had just taken a pull and was falling back when an attack went over a little kicker hill. A quick gap formed and that was it. Of course, if I was actually fast, I could have closed that one down.

But I'm not fast, really, so I didn't. It happens.

I got in with the second group and we kept the pace hot the rest of the way to Fort Calhoun. The high-speed paceline on the way back was a blast as usual, and the hills took their usual toll. I again ended up in the chase group.

While it seems like I was chasing a lot — I was — I'm pretty pleased with the ride. My back didn't hurt, for one. And also, I feel like I'm getting some power back. That's going to be important here in a few weeks.

And now, it's off to work, where I do little except drink coffee and think about bikes. It's a rough life sometimes.

Found: The limit

There's been no shortage of words written this spring about compression tights. The magical, wonderful properties of compression (speeds recovery, keeps legs fresh, etc.) have played a big role in my rise to "halfway worth a crap" on the bike once again.

Yeah, I aim high.

Anyway, utilizing the recovery techniques at hand -- tights, recovery drink, etc. -- I've been able to string together quality days and see improvement. And up until yesterday, the formula had been pretty much spot-on.

And then, the TT bike.

Oh, TT bike. I love having you around. I love being able to work in the TT position whenever I feel the urge -- no spending 30 minutes before and after messing with fore/aft, clip-ons or anything like that.

But, TT bike ... ouch, baby. After owning this thing for a good five or six months, I've determined that it's impossible to do mid-range, tempo stuff on it. Or, rather, impossible for me.

I'll explain. The goal of yesterday's workout was a few efforts at or above threshold (5 minutes at a time), then a long, steady burn to finish it off. The plan for the burn was zone 3 -- basically, just steady and up-tempo.

I planned it so the finishing burn would be into the wind, where I could focus on steady, steady, steady and get a good, long ride entirely in the aero position.

That was the plan. I rode it slightly more aggressive than that. That's code for "I turned around into the wind, got rolling and pinned it the entire way."

I think that's the secret of TT bikes. Backing off seems like a waste of time, since you're jamming yourself into that position and it's not terribly comfortable. Why not just drill it and get it over with sooner?

And that brings us back to the compression tights. I did the usual thing afterward: recovery drink, lunch, tights for the rest of the afternoon. I felt, at best, tired.

And this morning: Ouch. Heavy legs. Sore hamstrings and glutes. Easy recovery spin on tap later this morning, so hopefully that'll work the kinks out.

But let that be a lesson to all of you. TT bike trumps compression tights. The domination couldn't go on forever. But maybe if I wore two pairs, plus the long-sleeved shirt ...

Grinding it out

Because of my schedule, Sundays have pretty much turned into the "big" riding day. I have enough flexibility at home (thanks, sweetie) to get out for a good 3-4 hours pretty much every week.

Combine that with a couple of hours on Monday, another 3-4 on Tuesday and then Wednesday Worlds, and it's a solid stretch of work.

Yesterday, with a moderate bit of wind and mainly flat terrain, was all about keeping it steady. Ryan and Mark both raced on Saturday, so I happily stayed in front most of the way. (Mark did, too, but Skinny Mark Savery is a tough Mark Savery. Wind bows to him now.)

Tempo was solid, hills were charged a couple of times. In short, a good, solid ride. I ended up with 75 miles in 4:02.

Today, it's 90 minutes (or so) on the TT bike. My limiter right now is high-end stuff, so I'm going to work on that zone 4/5 stuff for what will likely be really, really uncomfortable stretches of time. Great.

Tomorrow could be a MTB day, and then it's Wednesday all over again. Sweet. Man, I like Wednesdays -- even though I'm slow, it's still awesome.

OK. TT bike. Go!