I'm in it now

One of the reasons I think guys like me race - that is, guys who are reasonably quick but will never, ever win a race - is the camaraderie of the peloton. Not during the race - god, no - but afterward, swapping stories and strategies and stuff.

Why that, and not the race itself? Well, because races hurt like hell, even when you're very, very good. And that level of pain tends to get blocked out as we look back upon races. I can remember what the pain of only a couple of races actually felt like, and that's because it was back pain. I'll always remember what that felt like.

But as far as the actual, cross-eyed, blood-in-your-mouth race pain? It's hard to remember exactly what that feels like until you're in the middle of it. And by then, it's too late to really do anything about it.

It's that same endorphin-induced amnesia that prompted me to say, "Eh, what the hell?" and register for the Cat. 1/2/3 races this weekend.

Read that again: Rather than just jumping in with a 3s race to start things off, I went ahead and signed up for a pair of hour-long death marches. Amnesia, man. Amnesia.

Regardless, I'm ready to go. The bike is dialed, I have spare wheels. Hell, I may even wear a skinsuit. I figure I'm going to go the same speed regardless of which race I'm in. May as well sign up for the big show.

I'll let you know how that turns out.

What race are you doing?

The season opener for most of the area's cyclocross racers is on Saturday. I can tell because people are calling the shop and asking for things in semi-frantic tones. That's always the first clue it's going to be a big day — no matter the discipline.

As for me, I'm going to check out my spare wheels — otherwise known as Chris' wheels — tonight to make sure they'll fit with my brake setup. And if they don't fit, I'll figure out what needs to happen to make them fit. Juuuuust in case.

I've also debated cleaning the bike. Race-day rules say you want to have your stuff dialed and looking sharp. Cross rules say ... eh, whatever. Maybe I'll do it if I have time.

For many racers — judging from the last night's comments, at least — the biggest preparation was asking each other which race they were doing. Most of the riders at the weekly 'cross practices at Cat. 3 or better, which means a pair of races are available to them: the Cat. 3 race, but also the Cat. 1/2/3 race.

Some are strong enough to be competitive in the 1/2/3 race (Lucas, Brady) and some are not (me). While I'm certain watching the field roll away from me in the 1/2/3 race would be entertaining, I'll probably just stick with the 3s race both days. It'll provide more than enough of a challenge, I'm sure.

And what of the rest of the schedule? I'd like to race at least two or three more times after this weekend. Norfolk, maybe? I'll be in Des Moines while the Oakley Nightcap races are going, so I may bring my bike. Lincoln for a mid-week race? Maybe.

What I do know, though, is that the carriage turns back into a pumpkin on the last week of October. After that, nobody's going anywhere. It's Stegosaurus time.

A good start

We don't open until noon on Wednesdays, which is nice sometimes. While I spent much of the summer working through that open time, we escaped this morning for a ride.

As you can see from the sky, it was a pretty perfect morning. Mid-to-upper 50s, no wind. Damn, it was nice.

We rolled south to Bellevue, up the boulevard - and up a couple of nice, awful climbs - and then back down the boulevard, to Midtown and to the shop.

It was the last ride on my current Madone, because from here on out - or for at least the next month - it's all 'cross all the time. And when that's done, a new bike will be here and it'll be time to roll on once again.

Race week

I haven't raced since July.

Moreover, I haven't really even thought about racing since July. I think that's what has made it hard to really get psyched up for 'cross. I just haven't been in "race mode" for such a long time. As such, talking about next weekend's races kind of freaked me out a bit.

What? A race? Now? Huh.

I'm basically ready to go. I haven't felt particularly fast — though I've been doing OK — for a few weeks now, so it's hard to tell exactly how this is going to go. It kinda feels like it's fall, when I'm usually spinning long, easy miles. To have this kind of intensity going right now is weird.

If nothing else, though, I'm super-psyched about racing this bike:

Damn, Cronus CX. It's hard to describe it with words other than "sweet" or "awesome." This is one, maybe: ridiculous. Light, stiff and fast also work.

I threw some Challenge Fangos on there last week and they felt pretty great. The Bontrager CX0 tires were nice, but when it was time to get good hook-up on the tighter, faster corners, they weren't doing the job.

Otherwise, I have it set up in its stock configuration. I kept the Bontrager RL wheels on, because I'm using my Dura-Ace tubeless wheels on the road next season. And because my new Madone is going to have deep-section wheels on it, I need those low-profile DA wheels to be in one piece. I'm not super-worried about trashing them, but I'd rather not take any chances. The RLs are solid, and I've been effectively racing on them at 'cross practice with no problems.

All told, the bike weighs in right at 17 pounds. Sure, it could be lighter. But even the very light ones ridden by the Trek Midwest CX team aren't that much lighter. And, seriously, at this point it would be overkill anyway.

Bring on race week. I'm ready ... I guess.

I've been thinking about a cot

There's probably research supporting or refuting the claim that's to follow, but I'm pretty sure my in-the-field data is probably more accurate. Anyway, here it is:

Pregnant women snore a lot.

During Chris' first pregnancy with Jack, I worked nights at the World-Herald. I'd get home around 2 and would typically be in bed shortly thereafter. I reached a point with a month or two left that climbing into bed with Chris at that point was ... well, pointless.

First off, she was taking up the whole bed. I would, too, were I the first one in bed. Second, she was sleeping deeply and snoringly. A nudge here, a poke there, a foot in the back ... no dice.

If I was going to make a list of the sounds I'm most annoyed by, snoring would be second. First is sniffling your nose constantly instead of just getting up and blowing it (thanks, Mom!). Snoring probably wouldn't be so bad, except it typically happens when you're trying to sleep. At that point, everything is annoying.

When we hit that magical point last time, I just set up shop in the spare bedroom. The sleep was restful and wonderful.

Typically, when it's bedtime now, Chris is exhausted. Teaching all day and wrangling a 4-year-old is tiring enough, but doing it with a baby using your spleen for a speedbag probably takes a bit more out of you. So when she hits the pillow, she's done. (Her fall-asleep record is just shy of one minute.)

And that takes me back to the claim up top: Pregnant women snore a lot.

I don't begrudge her right to fall straight asleep and get that nice, deep, restful sleep — not even a little bit. She needs it. She deserves it.

But while I'm typically cooked at the end of the day, too, it sometimes takes me a bit longer to fall asleep. Like, maybe five or 10 minutes. And it's hard to do that when you're beaten to the punch by the exhausted pregnant lady who, quite amazingly, is snoring within a minute of hitting the pillow. Seriously, it's impressive.

Basically, instead of relaxing when I get into bed, I'm racing to get to sleep. That's not really how it should work. On nights when I have writing to do and stay up later, I've been going straight to the couch. It seems to work - I go right to sleep - but I wake up sore. You know, because I slept on the couch. Why not the spare bedroom? That's going to be Stegosaurus' room. And right now, it's more like a big pile of things.

We have nine weeks left. (Note to self: Finish baby's room.) And contrary to what you've heard, the no-sleep thing then isn't really that bad. I'm sure it will be tougher with big-brother Jack in the mix, though.

If nothing else, maybe I can set a new go-to-sleep record. I promise not to snore.

The laws have changed

I've heard often that being able to run a bike shop is considered by many a dream job. If you're into bikes, what better way to spend your days than sharing your enthusiasm with the world?

I don't disagree with that. The two years I've spent running the Trek Store have been awesome. I've met a lot of really great people — and a few not-so-great people — and learned quite a bit. And, of course, I've spent the last two years on awesome bikes. Like, ridiculous bikes.

But despite all of that, I'm moving on. Starting in mid-October I'll be working at Harvest Retail Marketing — the company that does all of the marketing and promo material for our stores and about 30 others across the country. Ever gotten a sale postcard from my store? It came from Harvest.

My official title is Online Accounts Manager, which means I'll be talking with a lot of clients and hanging out on Facebook lots. Also, I'll be working closely with Lucas again, which will be pretty cool.

So many jobs in the cycling industry are shop jobs with shop hours. This is a desk job — in Omaha, no less. I'll be working closely with my friends. I'll be working 9-5, approximately. The ride to work will be about five blocks longer now, but it's still mostly the same.

I'll miss being at the shop. Really, I will. I'll miss getting people set up on bikes, seeing the enthusiasm of a new cyclist. I'll miss helping people build their dream bike. And, of course, I'll miss my staff. I was fortunate to have an awesome group throughout my time in the store. (Also, I'm missing a managers' trip to California in February. Damn.)

It goes without saying that I was fortunate to land with Midwest Cycling — the stores' parent company — to begin with. Had Mark not hired me way back in that awful March of 2009, who knows where we'd be right now? Certainly not in this position. I know that.

As far as racing goes, nothing will change. As far as bikes, nothing will change. (Well, the paint jobs will, but that's about it.)

Everything else, though? Huge. Thanks, Omaha. I've enjoyed the ride.

Maintenance work

You may have noticed — or maybe not, which is perfectly fine — but I haven't talked much about my back lately. That's a good thing, for it means it isn't an issue.

One of the things I worried about as I laid on an ER table for hours (seriously, hours and hours) on the day I broke my back was the long-term effects. I knew I'd heal and be relatively normal and everything. That, for me, wasn't ever a question.

But how would it be in five years? 10? 25? Who knows?

What I do know is that you need to do a bit of maintenance work now and again or the whole thing gets all jacked up. Throughout the summer, I got by on the minimum: just some stretching and a bit of lower-back work. Easy.

But since 'cross has fired up and I seem to have made a half-assed commitment to racing, the minimum isn't cutting it. I've been waking up with hip and knee pain, along with the expected lower-back crankiness. The answer here isn't "that's what happens when you do 'cross," because it's no more violent than trail running in the fall.

No, the answer lies in getting back to scheduled maintenance — not unlike what's needed for your car. (Note to self: Camry needs an oil change.) It may be working fine right now, but it's gonna get bad if you don't take care of it now and then.

So today was a day off the bike and a day on the floor. Stretching, strengthening, trying to get back into that maintenance routine. If all goes as expected, I'll be back to normal in a couple of days.

I call it freedomwear

I've made note previously of my fondness for cycling socks. They fit better than cotton socks, they last longer and they look cooler. Why not wear them all the time? So what if they retail for $20 a pair? If they look awesome and wear well, it's worth it.

Lately I've been thinking about expanding that mindset to other bits of cycling apparel. For example ...

• Outerwear. This jacket is awesome. I'd wear it as my winter coat.
• Gloves. This is a fairly obvious one. Any windstopper, softshell-type thing would work. Like these, for example.
• How about shirts and stuff? Long-sleeved wool jersey. Duh.

The tricky part comes when you get to the lower body. You can't very well wear cycling shorts all day. Just ... no. And rain pants? No. Baggy MTB shorts? Just wear regular shorts. Clearly, this part is going to take some more thought.

For now, though, since it's cold and damp and crappy outside, I'm going to grab a pair of the Vermarc zip-up thermal tights (probably in XL, so they're roomy like a track pant) and pour another coffee.

Freedomwear, baby. Freedomwear.

It's about to get real

For about a month now, I've been floating along in a state of blissful ignorance. After it was pretty clear we wouldn't have any more road racing in Nebraska this season, I fired up the offseason training program: Just do whatever you want.

So here's my plan: Wednesdays I go fast. The rest of the week, I just ride. Long ride on Saturday? Another on Monday and Tuesday? Sure.

But at last night's go-fast session, which for me was a survival session more than anything else, someone mentioned that the first race was just a couple of weeks off.

Wait, what? I've been doing my best to completely avoid thinking about such things, but there they are on the calendar — October 1 and 2. Omaha Cyclocross Weekend.

Hell.

I felt pretty blah last night. I can't tell if that's from riding too much or not riding enough. I'm going to hit it pretty hard over the next 10 days to find out if it's the latter. If that doesn't work, it's the former.

Well, that or I'm just not that good. Either way, I'll have something figured out.

This time of year

Midway through yesterday's ride — a short, sweet, gravely affair — I noticed the change in the clouds and the wind. Though it's been intermittently cloudy and windy over the last few months, yesterday was different.

The clouds weren't "summer" clouds. The heavy, iron-gray coloring made them look like "fall" clouds. The wind, so warm and sticky over the past few months, was drier — almost chilly. Summer is over, and the slow descent into winter has begun.

That feeling in the air — the change — made me think back to high school. I remember most the afternoons. With the afternoon heat waning, we'd amble outside for cross country practice, put in our miles and head home. As the weeks wore on, the wind blew colder, the practices more pointed. By the end of it, we were wearing long sleeves and pants, and sometimes snowflakes swirled.

On Fridays, we'd run, get home and be back in a half-hour. Though the football team was god awful (and that's not through lack of effort — they just weren't very good at football) that's where the town went in the fall. I was in marching band — I played the snare drum. After we played at halftime, we'd change clothes and come back down for the rest of the game. I remember the transition from "just cold enough to need a jacket" to "can we light that trash barrel on fire and stand around it like hobos?"

There was a smell at the football games, too — donuts. The local Rotary club made donuts in a little trailer every night. The Do-Mobile. They were a quarter apiece, and they were awesome.

There's a Better Than Ezra song that pretty much sums up the transition — the feeling. (This can be taken a number of ways; one of which is could be embarrassment for knowing a Better Than Ezra song). There's a bit of storytelling through the first 1:30, which mentions the song's origin: the first cool winds of fall.

Well there's a feeling in the air,

Just like a Friday afternoon.

Yeah you can go there if you want,

But it fades too soon.

Though I didn't hear the song until the summer it was released — 1995 — I always attach it to the fall of my senior year of high school — 1994.

It was so long ago; 17 years now. When I felt the wind on my face yesterday, it took me back. I know I can't be alone.

A cautionary tale

I say "um" a lot. Sorry.

The song remains the same

On the road, there are certain riders against whom I know I have no chance. My short list: Mark, Lucas, Brady, Limpach, Shim, Spence, Lee, Ian. There are others, of course, but that will do for now. (Edit: Kent should be on the list, too.)

Call it realism instead of hope. They are faster than me. They have always been faster than me. They will probably stay faster than me. That doesn't mean I can't improve. That doesn't mean I can't close the gap a bit. But for all intents and purposes, I'll be chasing those guys for the rest of my racing career.

After two weeks of 'cross practice, that feeling of "there they go, here I am" remains firmly in place. I'm not quite fast enough to be up with the fastest, but I'm usually faster than the rest.

So goes my life. Slightly above average across the board.

Basically, it boils down to this. Good riders are good riders - period. You can throw in technical courses and all of that, but generally if a guy knows how to ride a bike, he'll figure out how to adapt to whatever course he's on.

Some are better than others, yes, but it still comes down to being pretty fast on a bike. And me? I'm sort of fast, which means I've been doing sort of well. But it's a long fall, and lots can happen when it's for-real racing.

Guess we'll find out in a few weeks, huh?

Guess that means I win

For the second year in a row, the Nebraska road season ended in July.

Sweet.

When the NCA race schedule was released earlier this year, a pair of races were scheduled for this weekend in Lincoln. (Actually, wait — they're still on there.) On the GamJams Midwest calendar, I marked them as "tentative" even when hope and optimism came as a package deal with a new race season.

Something told me those races weren't going to happen. I took them off the schedule a few weeks ago. Though it was fairly obvious even in July that they weren't going to be held, it would have been nice to get that confirmed by ... oh, I don't know ... anybody?

Regardless, the lack of racing means I won Rider of the Year for Cat. 3, even though I'm not the best rider. Shim can insert his "attendance award" routine here, but it's true — I was there for every race. Nobody else was. The reward isn't the title of Rider of the Year, because that's pretty silly. It's the "you race for free in Nebraska next year" part.

Racing is expensive. I have an allowance debt raging right now thanks in part to entry fees. As a guy who doesn't always (or even semi-often) win his money back, the bills were high this time around. It will be nice to cut that expense out next year.

Maybe I'll actually come out ahead money-wise? With another kid on the way, we'll need it.

The worst trip I've ever been on

It's been a few years now, but one of the most god-awful weekends of my life happened to be a Labor Day weekend.

Since moving to Omaha, I've been beset with ragweed allergies. I wake up every morning at 5:30, take a 24-hour allergy pill and feel horrible for the next 90 minutes or so. After that, though, everything is (mostly) fine.

Before I started taking the 24-hour pill, though, I used to just pop a Benadryl every few hours. It worked well enough, but it was still a pretty miserable six weeks or so.

That most awful weekend came as we loaded up the car and headed to the middle of nowhere. Literally. Chris' grandparents used to own a farm in Union County, Iowa. See Lorimor on that map, just off of Highway 169? The farm was a little southwest of there. How remote was this place? The county roads were gravel. The "good" road was a deteriorating mass of old chip-seal and asphalt patches.

In the middle of all of this nowhere sat the farmhouse. Built about 4,000 years ago, it had two furnaces (seriously), two living rooms (for some reason), four bedrooms and one bathroom. And no air conditioning.

Having spent most of my childhood without air conditioning, I know how to handle such a situation: turn on a fan and don't move. There were about 15 people in the house, though, so taking over a fan for myself would be tricky. And there were, of course, the arguments about how best to keep the house cool: open the windows and night and then close the place up during the day, to better keep that cool air inside; or open all of the window and have a breeze blowing through.

For the record, the best way to keep a house cool is air conditioning. Barring that, the window-opening thing works, provided your 4,000-year-old farmhouse isn't in the middle of a stand of trees that stifles any and all breezes.

Anyway, I dealt with the heat. But because the house was opened up at all times, I also had to deal with ridiculous levels of pollen in the air. As such, I spent the better part of three days sweating, sneezing, blowing my nose, wiping my eyes and generally being miserable. At one point, I considered driving back to Omaha and coming back for Chris in a couple of days. And at another point I considered sleeping in the car with the AC running.

I ended up staying the whole time. I think I used a full box of Kleenex.

This year, and the past few, really, we stayed home and enjoyed the long weekend. With super-mild temperatures, I got out for a couple of long rides (actually, I rode all three days), we got a bit of yardwork done and fired up the smoker. Pork shoulder (pork butt, specifically, which is different than a hot dog, of course) and BBQ beans were on the menu for last night. It looked like this:

I've put a lot of things in the smoker over the years, but this is the best pork butt we've had. Chopped up, tossed with BBQ sauce and put on a bun, it's pretty much perfect. As I recall, the food during that lost weekend a few years ago was OK, but this was better.

And so was the part where I didn't feel like clawing my eyes out all weekend.

A new way of doing business

My great-grandfather (I think that's who I'm talking about here) was known around Algona as a bit of a handyman. Dude could fix everything, or so I hear. (That's assuming, of course, I'm thinking of the right relative to begin with. And that's an awesome start to a story, by the way: "I know of this guy who may or may not be the right guy but I'm using him anyway as a tool for getting a blog post started.")

So, the handyman.

My dad picked up whatever gene that is, because he can fix or build (or at least try very hard at) most anything.

Me? Well, I can do some stuff. I built a good chunk of our deck, though I left the really tricky stuff - the stuff that can't be fixed by simple board replacement - to a professional. I rebuilt a fence in the backyard, put new hinges on one of our gates and completely removed another.

But there are some things I have neither the time or energy for. And I think I have a solution. Follow along, if you will.

I have a 2000 Toyota Camry. Even when brand new, it was nothing to look at. It's silver and it's boring. And it will run forever. When we bought it in 2004, we babied it like the new(ish) car it was. Because it's a nice car, at least in the general sense of the word.

Since then, it's been all over. And along the way it's been dinged up a bit. Hey, it's an 11-year-old car. It still only has 109,000 miles on it, though.

I headed to the DMV on Tuesday to pick up the Camry's new plates, intent on putting a little shine back into my old friend. The front plate went on with no problem. On the back, I found myself staring down a pair of very rusty bolts. They looked like they were ready to crumble.

I sprayed some rust-buster/lube stuff on the bolts and behind the plates, waited a few minutes and gave it a crack. Uh, no. Even worse, the Phillips head stripped on one of them. So I just left it on. Hey, you can only see one plate at time, right? No problem.

This morning, I planned on dropping off my car at the Firestone place down the street from the shop and making it their problem. I'm handy, but only to a point. That point seems to be right around the time things are more complicated than attaching two pieces of wood.

One screw broke, but the other came out. So now what?

I work at a bike shop, as you know. And I have all manner of tools at my disposal for attaching things (and also taking them apart). To take care of the one good side, I pulled a new bolt out of the "random bolts" box.

For the other, I figured: why not glue? I mean, it's a Camry - and an old one at that. If I was worried about looks, I'd be in something different altogether.

A quick turn around the shop and I located a bit of steerer-tube epoxy from our Cervelo days. A spray of Simple Green to clear the gunk, a pass-over with the alcohol pad and a mixing of epoxy and ... done. It's not moving. Ever.

So what happens when Nebraska changes plates again in five years (that's a really stupid law, by the way)? Pop the bolt (assuming it comes out ...) and glue the new one on top.

Glue!

I love it. I look forward to a brave new world of screw- and nail-free attaching. It's all epoxy for me from here on out.

Moving on

For most of us, when we start a new endeavor, we worry more about the here and now — the getting started — first. That's probably the right approach.

But at some point, you have to think about how it's all going to end. Can you go on with it forever? How long can you keep it going?

"It," in this conversation, is Cranksgiving — my little labor of love that started in 2007 with a "why not?" kind of thought. It's gotten bigger every year, and the 2010 version brought in a lot of needed food and funds to the Food Bank For the Heartland.

That version will stand as the last with me at the helm. I handed over the keys to Dave at Bike Masters yesterday. They'll take it from here, and it will continue to grow.

So why leave?

Well, I'm tired, frankly. We're all tired, I know, but I've been burning the candle at both ends for about 2.5 years now. I started scrambling when I left the World-Herald and haven't come up for air since.

My weekly schedule includes a lot of writing (World-Herald, GamJams, VeloGear and this blog, among other projects), a lot of working (50 hours a week or so) and a fair bit of bike-riding. And, to be honest, those arenas are suffering a bit under the weight of the others. What started as a survival tactic (get money, any money) has turned into a way of life.

To even think about adding Cranksgiving to the mix makes me shudder. Oh, and there's the issue of Baby Stegosaurus being due within a week of the event. That's not the time I want to be thinking about boxes of macaroni and cheese, canned corn or how many rolls of toilet paper people should be trying to stuff into their Jansport backpacks.

So that's it. It was four great years of planning and scheming and doing our part — as small as it was — to help others. It of course doesn't mean we won't continue to find a way to help others. We'll figure something out.

But it won't be Cranksgiving. That belongs to Bike Masters now. If you're a fan of the event, please continue to support it, as well as the efforts of the Food Bank. We can all do our part.