I expected that

On Tuesday night, I made it a point to ride really hard at the Trek O South ride. And I did.

On Wednesday night, I knew that would result in tired, dead legs, but that riding hard two days in a row would be good for me - provided I took the next few days easy.

When the torch was lit, I predictably burned up early. It wasn't that I was going slow - I wasn't - I just wasn't going as fast as the lead group. I'm pretty used to that by now. But I did my usual digging deep and turning myself inside out bit. It did the trick.

And now, a day off today, a ride to work tomorrow and then a long Saturday ride. I'll probably take it pretty easy for the next week or two. I'm to the point where I feel fast again, though it's sometimes hard to tell when you head to WNW and get your brains bashed in. The upside there is that everybody else is getting faster, too. And luckily, I don't have to race against most of them.

A really big day

We had Tuesday marked on the calendar for a long time. After a little weekend trip to KC (see Chris' blog post here), we set Tuesday as our "do a whole bunch of stuff in Omaha" day.

As you can see on Jack's calendar, it was time to see Cars 2. One good thing about having a 3-year-old is that he can't read. And since he can't read, he had no idea that it actually came out last week. That saved us a weekend of him bothering us about it. "Hey man, it's on the calendar for Tuesday."

Also on Tuesday, though taking up much less space, was "baby." Chris' 19-week ultrasound was early yesterday morning, and Jack got to come along to see if he'd have a baby brother or sister.

One thing we noticed right away was the kid's nose — it looks pretty much exactly like Jack's. Also cool: we could count the fingers and toes — all are present and accounted for. Everything else was great, too. We're right on track for a mid-November baby.

Also pretty apparent: it's a girl. Jack smiled and immediately said, "I was right!" His reasoning was less based on science and more about, "we don't have a girl yet." In little-boy land, that kind of logic trumps science. And that means we should probably start organizing the spare bedroom as a nursery.

Later on, as Chris and Jack headed to Vacation Bible School, I headed down to Papillion and jumped in with the Trek Store Tuesday-night ride. It's a very, very different atmosphere down there, but it was still a good ride. Fifty miles later, we rolled back into the parking lot, I destroyed a couple of pieces of pizza and headed home.

This morning, there seems to be a car race going on next to me on the table. It's Lightning McQueen and Franceso Bernoulli, along with a host of older cars now masquerading as characters from Cars 2. This, from a kid who said he only "sort of" liked the movie, because parts were scary (read: filled with explosions). For my part, I thought it was a perfectly fine movie. It was perhaps a little bit clever for its own good (the lemon-car thing would go over a lot of kids' heads), but good nonetheless.

And now, it's Wednesday. After yesterday, a clear calendar page feels like a breath of fresh air. But something tells me they'll all be big days from here on out.

Almost made it

It was pouring when I ate breakfast on Saturday morning. The radar screen was a splotchy, rainbow-colored mess. It was not exactly bike-racing weather.

It rained most of the way to Yutan, too, but based on how the storm was tracking, it would be dry for the start of the state time trial. I have a love/hate relationship with that course. Love that it's close, love that it's a reasonably low-traffic road. Hate the surface itself, hate the fickle winds, hate the host venue. At least it's only once a year (this year, at least).

My plan was pretty straightforward: Go out a little bit easier, turn it up in the second half and bring home the bacon. That strategy was based on A) a past history of blowing sky high in the first half of the race and B) the wind, which was blowing SSE when I rolled out.

Now is a good time to talk about time-trial-starting techniques. I tried to keep it low-key at the start. No use going crazy in the first 200 meters.

Eric had a ... well, he had a different strategy.

Luckily, though, Eric started ahead of me and not behind. That would have been utterly terrifying to think that was coming up on my wheel.

Controlling the adrenaline in the first five miles is always tricky, because you're psyched up and there's a rabbit 30 seconds up the road just waiting to be chased down. After about three miles, I finally settled down into upper zone 4 heart rate and got to business. As it turns out, I did catch my 30-second man around the 5- or 5.5-mile mark. Eric was next up, and though I could see him most of the way, I wasn't pulling him back.

At about nine miles, I was passed by Lee Bumgarner, who rolled by like a freight train. Until he snapped me out of it, I was in a bit of a little mental lull. I was still going fast, but I cranked it back up a bit after he flew past.

Fenster passed me next, which I was also expecting. I can do a lot of things on a bike, but hanging with the Big Puma in a TT isn't one of them. But I was doing a bit of math. Lee and Brady and Puma were ahead of me and Eric was holding steady just in front of me. Everybody else was already passed or behind.

When we hit the turnaround, I was expecting a bit of a push from the SSE wind ... except it wasn't SSE anymore. It was more like ESE, and pretty soon it turned to just plain E.

Shortly thereafter, my tank turned to E, too.

There's a hill that takes you out of the valley and back onto the upper, rolling part of the course. We had a tailwind for that hill, and I easily went up and over. The return trip on the rollers was hillier than I imagined, but I wasn't worried — I just wanted to keep the cranks turning.

Even so, I struggled to really keep momentum. Just before the right-hand/left-hand bend, there's a long incline. For one reason or another — the main reason probably being an overall lack of TT ability — that incline was harder than it should have been. And though I settled in again around the curves, the road was still pointed up afterward. And that upward slant was much longer than I remembered.

The fatigue and soreness of the previous 20 miles were taking their toll. I pretty much gutted myself in the closing miles, with the only difference between this race and a "good" TT being the speed. I was killing myself but still not going that fast. Three-quarters of the way through and the lights were about to go out.

I made it through, obviously, and ended up fourth in the Cat. 3 field. While I barely hung on for my time, Eric said he finished with too much left in the tank ... and one second behind me. It was actually that thought — probably being close to Eric's time — that kept me going in the closing miles. "Don't blow it. Don't blow it. Don't blow it."

If you look at the day's times, the Cat. 4 field was toughest through the top six or seven or so. I would have been fourth in the Cat. 1/2 field as well. But in the 4s? I would have been seventh. Start racing harder in the crits, boys — time to upgrade.

When you pull out Old Man Murphy's winning time, I was third in the Cat. 3 39-under category. This, somehow, is my first medal from at state championship race. For whatever reason (probably a lack of speed), I've never earned one before. I'm not entirely sure I earned one on Saturday, based on the fistful of Cat. 4 times that destroyed mine, but I'll take it.

Stuntman

Happy Friday.

I may have gone fast last night

There was a moment on last night's ride where I thought - just for a split second or two - that I might have been going pretty damn fast.

That's not just a matter of having a big number on the computer, because I can do that anytime. Well, for a few seconds at least.

This was more about having a big number, holding it and then being able to punch it if need be, depending on what was happening in the rest of the group. There was also a point, though, where I just pretty much popped.

That happens sometimes, and it's not surprising considering how hard I was hitting it before then. I feel like I pushed it harder than I had all year - like maybe that extra gear is starting to come back. That would be nice, considering the race schedule for the next few weeks.

I'm close, though. Really close. I feel good. I'm not really even sore this morning, which is nice after a TT ride on Tuesday and WNW last night.

What that means for the state time trial on Saturday, I have no idea. I'm honestly just happy to be able to ride the summer races. I was in the hospital at this time two years ago and had a softball-sized growth on my hip last year.

This year, I'm the proud wearer of burned-in tanlines. Sweet.

Adventures in childlessness

Around 5 on Sunday afternoon, I got an email containing an invite to "come over later and drink some bourbon."

Later? Like ... after supper?

I took a moment to try to process the words. Leaving the house after supper, and for something other than walking the dogs? That's some crazy stuff right there. And it's only possible because Jack is on vacation.

A few days in Algona, a few days in Humboldt with Chris' parents ... and a quiet, quiet house. It's kind of funny how quickly a kid takes over your daily routine. He doesn't make any money, has no real duties and has no say over how things go around the house, but — actually — he's in charge.

After supper it's time to walk the dogs or clean up; maybe go outside and do some yardwork. And then it's bath time. Bedtime is a nightly deadline, after which things get quiet and you can finally relax.

But leaving the house "later," eschewing the now-standard schedule? That's crazy talk, sir.

We did it anyway. It was nice. And then we did it last night, too. (Though, truth be told, we left the house for supper, then wandered around Village Pointe afterward.)

As a side bonus, you don't have to filter music in the car. When a sweary song comes up on the iPod, you can actually listen to it. It's crazy.

Ultimately, though, it's too quiet. Though I typically tiptoe around the house each morning when I get up early to write, I haven't enjoyed being able to make as much noise as I want. It's easy to be kind of aimless when there's nothing to keep you in line. (The dogs, however, seem a little more relaxed.)

Jack comes back on Thursday, which I'm sure will be an exciting day around the house. Until then, the iPod is playing. And kind of loudly, too.

Breaking down, building up

In the two weeks since the Norfolk weekend, pretty much every ride has been hard. Or harder, at least. I've had an easy day or two, but the long rides have been longer and the hard group rides have been taxing to say the least.

It's paying off already, as I certainly feel stronger. This morning, I'm supposed to get on the TT bike and go rip around the countryside. But after a long ride on Saturday, a day of work on Sunday — and the ride to and from the store — I'm just not feeling it. Plus the trees are really whipping around out there. Seems like something to avoid.

So I'm avoiding it. Tomorrow is another day. I'll probably end up doing the TT bit, changing bikes and heading out for more. I'll pile Wednesday Night Worlds on top and then take it easy on Thursday and Friday.

And then, finally, an actual time trial. That should be interesting.

Build-out complete

First I needed a back that was mostly functional. Done.

And then a bike. Done.

And then (but not by any means required) some better wheels. Done.

Finally, I needed shoes that actually fit. Here they are:

Shimano M315 - the custom-fit ones. I'll probably cook 'em next week and get on with it shortly thereafter.

I have plenty of unfinished business to take care of on the road, but there are no more excuses for 'cross. I'll be a fair-weather/convenient-schedule 'cross racer, but I'll be there.

When smart guys get dumb

You're rolling up to a stop light, where four cars are already waiting at the intersection. Three of them have the right-turn blinkers on. Do you:

1. Get in line and wait for the cars to get going, as if you were also in a car.
2. Position yourself on the left-hand side of the lane so you can go while the cars are turning.
3. Move up on the right between the curb and the cars (which are turning right), skip through the intersection, create confusion and piss everybody off.

If you chose Option 3, you must have been on the ride last night. What's more, I have very little sympathy (temporarily, at least) if you now complain about how drivers don't "respect your place on the road."

Because that, guys, was pretty dumb. And dangerous.

With 20 guys in the bunch, settling in behind the cars was the obvious — and legally correct — choice. We've done it a thousand times. Instead, cutting through on the right created a jumble of bikes and cars that could have ended badly. And it doesn't really matter who started it. The point is, somebody did it and a LOT of people followed. We all know better.

Eric posted this yesterday. Read it. If you've ever wondered why guys like this exist, think of the situation I just described. While I wouldn't go to his lengths to show my distaste for cyclists (he really does flip off every rider he sees), I can certainly see why he'd be anti-bike after witnessing something like that intersection scene last night.

If change is to occur, we all need to do better. Riding around cars and through stoplights — I had to stop one of the guys from my group, which was caught behind, from jumping the red — isn't the best calling card for cycling in Omaha. We need to ride smarter, both in a group and alone.

Be safe out there.

Amnesia becomes ambition

From the New Pornographers' "Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk":

Amnesia becomes ambition,
Ambition becomes a new sort of
charming simplicity
Life always byzantine ...

I've always been fairly horrible at interpreting lyrics, mostly because I tend to be more straightforward about writing. Symbolism is many times lost on me, and searching for deeper meaning is often a losing endeavor.

Basically, I'm meant to write AP news stories. And I can write a gamer with the best of 'em.

But I'll give it a whack this time, though, because the above lyric feels like it applies perfectly to attempting to be a bike racer. Plus, it's a really kick-ass song.

For me, the desire to go fast and bring home good results is a strong motivator. Everybody likes to be good at something. But when I'm thinking about such things, the sharp edges around the work it takes to get there feel pretty dull. You never really have a grasp of how hard it is until you're in the middle of doing it.

Take the Capital City Criterium a few weeks ago, for example. That was a hard race. We weren't messing around that day. But I don't remember much about how hard it was. I can't remember specific instances where I was on the edge. That could mean I was fit and fast, or it could also mean that I pushed out the bad bits and focused only on the good bits — we won.

Predictably, I want to do it again. And since helping the team to another win in Norfolk, it's all I've been thinking about when I clip in and roll: how to get faster, how to get stronger, how to be more of an asset to the team effort.

The last line can be taken perhaps a bit more literally — "Life always byzantine." Dig deeper into the entry for "byzantine" in the Merriam-Webster dictionary and you get this: "Intricately involved."

That'll do.

Amnesia becomes ambition
Ambition becomes a new sort of
charming simplicity
Life always byzantine ...

Reunion tour

Way, way back in 2007, in the infancy of my racing career, I encountered my first set of "really nice wheels."

While I'd seen plenty of "really nice wheels" hanging in shops before then, never were they attached to my bike and ridden. It was more of a concept than anything else. As in, "Oh, some people have more than one wheelset? That's crazy!"

That first set of "really nice wheels" was found, of all places, on RAGBRAI. The week-long ride across Iowa isn't known so much for high-performance weaponry — or high performance, really. (Though I did win a stage last year.) Anyway, the Shimano crew was there pimping its new Dura-Ace 7801-SL wheelset. They were loaning out the new wheelset — tubeless setup and all — for test rides. "Why yes, of course I want to ride 'em for a day."

So I did. And I was hooked. "I must have these wheels," I thought at the end of the day.

I ended up grabbing them that winter from a teammate. And from there on out, they were the secret race-day weapon. Pulling a light, fast, smooth wheelset out of your hat on brings a huge mental boost — at least at the Cat. 4 level. (That advantage disappears as a Cat. 3. Everybody has 'em, and they'd still be faster than you even if they didn't.) They were my "really nice wheels," even though they weren't anything that special.

As a set, they lasted until April 2009. If you're looking for a specific date, look here. Ouch. Since then, that front wheel has spent time as a dummy wheel for hanging bikes in the garage, or as a symbol of what could have been while leaning against my desk at the store. The rear has spent time as a pit wheel, a training wheel, a trainer wheel and also as a symbol of what could have been.

Lately, though, that front wheel has been spurring my imagination. Surely, there must be something to lace that hub to. It's a sweet, smooth Dura-Ace hub. Find a rim and you have a nice wheel. This is after spending the last two years (intermittently, admittedly) trying to find a replacement Dura-Ace rim. They're just not out there.

On Friday, a box arrived from Shimano USA. No packing slip, no invoice. Inside was a brand-new Dura-Ace 7801-SL front wheel. Jake, our service supervisor, got ahold of a guy at Shimano who was able to dig up something in the warehouse. And from there, it ended up in Omaha.

While I've since raced (and trained) on nicer wheels — the Dura-Ace 7850-TL, for example — these old 7801s hold a place in my heart. They're the first time I had "really nice wheels," and I still remember the feeling I got when closed the quick-release levers and rolled down the street: "Fast."

For now, they'll live on my TT bike and serve as training/back-up wheels for the rest of the summer. And after that, they'll likely be the race wheels for 'cross, with the Cronus CX's stock Bontrager RL wheels as the backups.

Really, though, I'm happy to have the band back together. It's nice having an old (new?) friend around again.

Just another Sunday night

Ah, summer. After last week's ridiculous heat, it's been pretty mild for a few days. And with warm sunshine and nice breezes blowing through the neighborhood, it's time to get outside.

Last night, that meant a little bit of yardwork before supper, firing up the grill and then a little bit of yardwork after supper. We moved Jack's playset to remove a tree and plant a new one, so now we're filling in the bare spots with new grass.

Till (lightly), new topsoil, patching stuff, water, etc. And right as we were finishing cleanup, Jack decided he wanted to get onto the deck without stepping on the new patch at the bottom of the steps. Give him credit for following directions and avoiding walking all over it.

But he gets minus-10 points for not being able to stick the landing. He jumped across, stepped on the wet deck step (we watered the patch, remember) and SMOKED his chin on the step in front of him. Like most childhood calamities, instant tears were spouted.

And then this, from Chris: "We need to go to the emergency room."

What? Oh, come on ... really? Yes, really. He had a good inch-long gash that was opened up enough to see ... well, enough.

I finished cleaning up, we corralled the dogs, got some ice on there (frozen peas!) and loaded him up. He calmed down enough to be able to listen to our explanations of what we were doing. That's a plus. He tends to do a bit better if he knows what's coming.

After a quick check-in at Children's Hospital, he got a little bit of numbing gel on it and we awaited the 'ol needle and thread.

He was less OK about the stitching part, mostly because they strapped him into a papoose board — Velcro straps and all — to keep him from completely losing his shit. He whined only a little bit and then bounced back pretty quick when he was done.

And then came this: "When do I get my prize?"

He gets prizes after visits to the pediatrician. They don't really have prizes in the ER, mostly because getting to leave the ER intact (or mostly intact) is the biggest prize. So we took a little detour on the way home (what's another 15 minutes past bedtime, really?) and he picked out a new car. (Side note: Disney/Pixar has a nice racket going with all of the Cars 2 characters. They're mostly the same as the first batch, but with new stickers. Sneaky.)

At 11, he was in bed, sound asleep.

Lessons learned: Wet wooden steps are slippery. Also, when you tell a little boy not to walk in a certain spot, don't think he'll just walk around. He's way more likely to do something completely opposite of what you thought he'd do.

Bike snobbery

For the longest time, I lived in a pretty solid "ignorance is bliss" mode in around the cycling world.

"Dura-Ace? Assos? Carbon wheels? All nice things I'm sure, but they're so far out of my wheelhouse that I can't even comprehend them, let alone afford them and make them my own."

And then I started working at a bike shop. In reality, I held out for a long time. Up until the spring of 2010 I didn't really have anything too fancy to show for it (well, other than steady employment). I mean, I had Orange Crush, but it had the same componentry as the Felt that tried to kill me. So it was nice, but not crazy nice.

Life was good.

Our team kit rolled in around the first of April. Made by Capo Custom, it was nicer than anything I'd worn previously, including some of my regular, everyday clothes. And the funny thing about that was that I never had any complaints my old Kaos kit, which was (and still is) made by Voler. As it turns out, that stuff sucks. I'm reminded every time I climb on the trainer in the winter.

It was the beginning of a theme that's followed me through the last year. If you never know what the nice stuff is like, you'll never worry about not having it. But that first set of kit fairly ruined it for me. Shortly thereafter, we brought Capo's in-line collection into the stores, where I grabbed another set of kit.

And then another.
And one more.

Bikes got switched out, and Orange Crush turned into a black 6 Series Madone: lighter, stiffer, faster. The black bike went on the sales floor and was replaced by the current bike — a Madone SSL which is somehow lighter, stiffer and faster than the previous one.

All was quiet throughout the winter. Life was good. But I lost a little bit of weight, meaning the stuff I wore last summer didn't really fit. But while I work at a shop and get good deals, it doesn't necessarily mean I have any money. And certainly not enough money to build a closet full of Capo stuff just because I hit soup and salad hard over the winter.

So my cycling drawer went on a diet, too. I didn't add a bunch of stuff so much as I swapped it out for stuff that fit. Earlier this week, plied with birthday money and the need for one more set of good, all-day riding kit, I ordered more.

Modena? Everybody has that one.
Tomba? Two-year-old design.
Turismo? Already have blue/white kit.
Dorato? Already have it.
Martello? I have last year's version, which I think looks better (Monza).
Roma? Cyan? Jesus, no. What am I, a court jester?
Padrone?

Now we're talking. Padrone ... the Boss. Black and white — it matches everything. So it's on the way.

And this is where I've ended up. Faced with solid choices not only from Capo, but from Castelli and other manufacturers, I went with the top-end offering. It will be nice kit — I have no doubt. But it says a lot about how strong the pull toward "riding in nice stuff" is that didn't even consider the lower-priced offerings. It's not because they're not nice, but because they're not as nice as the other stuff that's already in my drawer.

It's a disease, I tell you. And I didn't even get into the 'cross bike thing. I realistically could have pulled off a CX bike last fall — Trek's XO-1 fit my budget nicely. Instead I waited for the Cronus CX to come out. Full carbon, SRAM Force, blah blah blah.

While part of me really likes being on the good stuff, the other part of me wishes I didn't know the good stuff even existed. Because if I didn't know it existed, I wouldn't be bummed about slumming it this morning in the "not good stuff."

Sigh. Stupid sport.

Roadies

At some point last summer — or maybe last fall — I started thinking about the 2011 road racing season. More important than which races would be contested was the matter of what team I'd ride for. The VeloGear/Midwest Wheelmasters team pretty much faded away last year, leaving a gap that needed to be filled.

As we (we being Mark, Lucas, etc.) started talking about team possibilities, we all settled on a pretty common theme: We wanted to race with our friends. We all ride together anyway, so why not pin on numbers and go to it? Pretty easy, huh?

We ended up with a group that makes it fun to ride for a teammate. Knowing my abilities (thin), I know I'm not going to win a race. I'm not. At least not right now. But I can pitch in here or there to help a teammate take a victory. I'll chase attacks, I'll block. Whatever. As long as it ends with a win, I'll do it.

I don't think I'm alone there. Personal rivalries aside, I think we'd all shred ourselves to see a teammate win.

I've been in the top 10 once this year, and I'm OK with that. Sure, I'd like to move to the podium — who wouldn't? But if it's not in the cards — if I'm meant to be a support rider for others — I'm OK with that, too. Because winning is fun, even if I'm not the one winning.

That went well (for the most part)

One of the nice things about riding on a good time is that you have confidence that one of your teammates is going to make things happen and end the day with a good result. It's even nicer, of course, if you can contribute to that result somehow.

In the state criterium on Sunday, in a combined Cat. 1/2/3 field, we used our numbers accordingly and swept the podium. That was pretty sweet. That's how it's supposed to go, really.

Saturday didn't go nearly as well. I guess I'll try to explain why.

The fields — 1/2 and 3 — raced together, but were scored separately. It's always tricky in a race like that to know who to chase and who gets to roll away, and there's always the danger of a 3 getting into the 1/2 move and heading up the road.

That's pretty much how it happened. Of the 20-some guys in the race, eight were ours (three in the 1/2 race and five in the 3s race). The first move went up the road, and it was all 1/2 guys (two of the four were ours). But then a 3 went across — displaying pretty excellent timing and one hell of a jump — and joined the break.

We let things settle for a while and watched how things developed. Halfway through the race, it was clear what was going to happen. That Cat. 3 guy was going to ride away from the bunch and win the race. But our two guys had a good chance of taking the 1/2 race.

After talking it over in the pack, I put the Cat. 3 guys in the rotation to help pull the break back. Yes, we had two teammates in it. But we still had three of the six Cat. 1/2 guys in the field. Our odds of winning were still pretty darn good. And with five in the Cat. 3 field, we had a good shot of winning that, too.

The downside to something like this, obviously, is when it doesn't work. And it did not work. I'll take the blame, if someone needs to be blamed. We brought back the guy who won the Cat. 3 race — Lee Bumgarner of Flatwater Cycling. But had we not brought things back together, someone else still would have won it. I don't see that as a big deal at all, really.

The guy who won the whole thing was dropped from the break and latched back on when we came through. That's what I'm bummed about. Mark still won the state 1/2 title by coming in second, which is nice. But, really, if we're going to do the whole "reel in the break" bit, it needs to result in a pair of victories.

It didn't. Whoops.

But things were fixed on Sunday, when we came close to winning all of the races. A dropped chain in the final 200 meters stopped EOB, and if Kevin Gilinsky (kidding, sort of) knew how to sprint, he could have won the Cat. 5 race. After that, we did not lose. Mike Miles got a deserved win in the Cat. 4 race, Leah Kleager stomped everybody in the women's races all weekend and ... well, you saw up top what happened in the 1/2/3 crit.

Personally, it was a semi-frustrating weekend. While I'm happy for our results at a team, my performance was only OK. I feel like I contributed only marginally to the success. Sure I chased a couple of things here, set up a move there, brought back two teammates from a break ... whoops.

Anyway, I feel like I'm caught in a strange limbo right now: fast enough to be with the lead bunch most of the time, but not fast enough to stay there when the real shooting starts. On the flip side, I'm way faster than being off the back right away. I see it on Wednesday nights, too: just off the lead group, well ahead of the second group ... and out there by myself. No man's land.

I have a little over a month to get ready for the big objective of the year: the Omaha weekend. I will be ready. I will be a factor.

Rolling at dawn

Ah, summer ... when you can roll down your driveway at 6 and have plenty of light, plenty of heat and plenty of space to do your thing.

Due to a quick little Lincoln trip that's coming up this morning, I had to get my pre-race spin-out in early this morning. So I took the Cronus CX and wandered over to Tranquility and played around for a bit. The new stuff should be decent when it breaks in a little more. Right now it's pretty rough. And the back parts by the creek — way to the north — are pretty flood-prone.

But if nothing else, it's nice to have an off-road venue less than five minutes from the house. Kit up, roll down the hill, get on the dirt. Pretty easy.

The state road and crit championships are this weekend in Norfolk. Once again I'll be part of a pretty strong Cat. 3 team. Where I fit into the grand scheme of things, I have no idea. I hope to be a part of another win — or maybe two. It's going to be a lot harder to sweep the weekend this time, but we have the horses.

Either way, it should be pretty fun.

Weekend preview

Spring in Nebraska is an exercise in extremes. Wind isn't just wind, it's 25 mph. And when it rains, it goes on for days. And then it's 45 degrees.

But it feels like we haven't had that much heat so far. Until last night, that is. And the funny thing is that it really wasn't that hot. But it was humid enough that I was sweating like crazy the entire time. It's been a while since I've had stinging sweat in my eyes; burning my nostrils.

Other than the part with the sweat, the entire ride was an exercise of being not quite close enough to the lead group. The heavy crosswind section on Highway 36 dumped me, which was my fault. The long, gradual hill on the Trace dumped me, but I could see the group the entire time. And through Ponca hills, rerouted because of flooding, I was juuuust off the back of the group.

It happens sometimes, I guess. The thing is, I didn't feel bad — I just didn't feel great.

As we head into the Norfolk weekend, feeling great would be nice. Feeling 'not bad' would be a good start. Until then, it's easy pedaling and lots of water. It's going to be a warm one.