Moab: Day 2- Martian Roller Coaster

Before I left for my trip, my friend David had recommended that I read “Desert Solitaire” by Edward Abbey.  I’m about halfway through it and can strongly suggest it to my literate friends.  Edward Abbey was one of the founding fathers of environmentalism.  In the book, he recounts his time spent as a Park Ranger in Arches National Park in Moab.  He spent 3 seasons there taking in the varied and natural beauty of this ridiculous place.
  

  
Event though its right in the Desert,  I’ve seen what Abbey is talking about.  The terrain and life is rugged and dramatic.  It’s a stark contrast from the manufactured, manicured, and frenzied beauty of NYC.

On day 1 we were met with beautiful desert singletrack and some stunning geological formations.  Today was completely different.  Even though we were maybe 10 miles away from where we rode yesterday, we might as well have been on a different planet.
  


More specifically, Mars.
Today we rode the slickrock trail,   which is known for its, well, slickrock.   I was pumped as hell to give it a try.  The slickrock landscape looks like something the Mars rover must have set eyes upon while on its death march.   Swooping, rolling dunes of solid rock litter the landscape.  The only giveaway that you’re on earth is the beautiful desert life that’s peppered across the land.  



Our guide today was Heidi.   Heidi’s an avid athlete who’s keeps busy by kickin’ ass at trail running when she’s not taking fat, spoiled New York cyclists out for pity rides.   Needless to say, Heidi put us through our paces for the next 4 hours of Mars rovin’.




So how does it ride??   Like a Martian rollercoaster.


 

Riding slickrock is quite a departure from the singletrack that you’re probably used to.   The biggest difference is grip.  It’s Grippy.  Super grippy.  Grippier than my hands are around a Bacon cheeseburger.   While the name “slickrock” may  seem to imply differently,  it earned its name because it is quite slippery when we’re talking about horses and cows.  Horseshoes and slickrock= bovines sliding around like your mother in a Jell-O wrestling match.




So what does that mean?  It means you can ride slick rock at ridiculous angles- up, down, sideways, off-camber, and probably upside-down.  You can ride straight across a 50-degree off-camber that would make a cx-racer weep.  




The Best part of slickrock is the swoopy stuff.  You come to the crest of a slope,   fly down 50 feet and slam right up the incline of the next.    You’ve gotta have the granny gear on hand to get up these inclines.   each of those climbs is a 20-30 second V02MAX effort that forces you to sit so far forward that  you’re practically straddling the steerer tube like a stripper pole and spinning your legs around in your 32X22 (the 32 is in the rear, roadies).  I may have earned a new nickname due to my overzealous spinning while going up these things…
 


Each of these aggressive efforts is like a little interval that you end up repeating about 30-50 times.   We have essentially signed up for a week a daily 4-hour long anaerobic interval workouts.  Coach roger would be so proud…



Understandably,  some of those rises were too steep for us and we ended up dumping out a few times and walking.  This leads me to a very important tip for all of you northeasterners coming to ride slick rock up here:  TAKE OUT YOUR TOE SPIKES BEFORE YOU EVEN THINK OF RIDING SLICKROCK.  Sure,  toe spikes are great when you’re knee-deep in mud at Granogue or tap-dancing on a street corner, but on a steep slickrock incline they are about as useful as a Bacon AT-AT in a synagogue.


 

Around the midpoint of the ride we came across a bit of a playground-  it was akin to the empty pools skateboarders do tricks in,  but naturally formed.  it was a blast to swoop in and out and take some banked turns.   Naturally this was the perfect time for a far superior rider named Kyle to show up and demonstrate how terrible we actually are…




The whole slickrock trail is situated high above Moab.  Depending on where you were you could overlook the whole town  or the mighty Colorado River.   What better place to sit down and enjoy the view then on the edge of a sheer 1000 ft cliff face.





I can say without hesitation that romping around on this Martian terrain was one of the best bike experiences I’ve had in my life.  Who knows what planet we’ll end up on tomorrow?

Rouge Roubaix Redux (again)

Cycling bloggers say it again and again every year, but it's true: I can't believe the road season is back again. It seems like just yesterday that I was running all over Staten Island so that people could jump over barriers and run along the beach with their bikes on their backs. Since then there's been a whole off-season full of behavior that would make my coach cringe (Sorry, Roger) A few pigs worth of pork had been consumed, and I've lined the pockets of far too many Trappist monks this season.

When I speak to my fellow cyclists it seems that many of them have had a bit of a hard time kicking off training this year. Should we blame the weather? Sure- let's do that. The 12+inch dumps (I'm talking snow here) kill weekend rides, which are the bread and butter of base training. A winter full of wine, food, and regrettable decisions is hard to give up, but as the scale tips farther and farther away from your ideal and delusional race weight, reality must rear its ugly head. Before you know it, its time to give up your Friday nights in hopes of 6 am central park cycling glory. So how does one prepare for a return to the life of a spandex-clad monk?

For me, two words: Rouge Roubaix. For the past three years, I've made the hilariously stupid decision of having the hardest race of the season be the first race of the season. My teammate Tim and I can't stay away from this hidden gem of a Spring Classic: 101 miles, 30 of which feature offensive, minefield-like unpaved sections that make Battenkill's "un-pave" feel like a track velodrome. Oh, and by the way, even though this race is in Louisiana, it's quite hilly. Myriad short, punchy, unpaved climbs result in almost 4,000 feet of climbing. And what's not to love about an obscenely unpaved 18% grade at mile 85?

We got in two days before the race and stayed with a mutual friend in Baton Rouge. The most eventful part of the flight was realizing that I paid more to get to the airport and get my bike on the plane than i did for my ticket. Even though JetBlue's $50 bike box fee is relatively reasonable, I'm still infuriated by the fact that I'm charged for a sub-50 lb piece of luggage just because it's a bicycle. However, on the way back I discovered a fantastic way to bypass paying to get your bike on the plane: Simply say that your bike box is a massage table. There you go. Maybe I’ll have business cards made: “CJ’s love-you-long-time massage service. Where every ending is happy.”

We got suited up in our brand-spankin-new kits and went for a spin by the Mississippi Levee. It had been so long since i had ridden in warm weather- I couldn't have been happier. As we sprinted for telephone poles, a pressing questions was mulling around in the back of my head; Am I actually going to survive this race again?

Last year's Rouge Roubaix completely tore me up. Every part of my body was shredded, and I (like many) had been bonking by the end of the ride. I managed 18th place last year, but that was also with a week of Roger's Tucson cycling camp under my belt.

This time around I didn't have much confidence in my training up until 2 weeks before the race. Sure, I did a few reluctant 2+hr sessions on the trainer and got out for longer rides when I could, but I wasn't hungry for it like I was hungry for any number of delicacies I had been consuming all winter. I'd say my biggest obstacle as a bike racer is my torrid love affair with pork and foie gras products.

The night of the race we had two dinners. Sushi at 4PM and Pasta before bed. A small ocean's worth of water was consumed, and we slammed some endurolytes in preparation for the upcoming pain fest. A laid out the buffet spread for the race. I decided to bring an extra bottle of water, 'cuz bonking at a Roubaix is about as fun as carnal relations with This.

We woke up early and zoomed over to St. Francisville in our rock racing-esque SUV. We got to the hotel and registered. right by the registration tables was a course map with a lovely elevation profile that resembled tiger woods taking a lie detector test about his business trips.

The air was a bit cold and clammy and we spent about an hour debating wardrobe selection. I decided to be a little cold at the start and go short sleeves. it would later warm up to the mid-60's range, so it was a good call. After pinning on the number and slathering on a metric ton of Sportique, we were ready to go.

the first twenty miles of the race are relatively tame. our pack of about 60 cat 4's rode in a rather un-excited fashion. My biggest priority of the first 25 miles of the race was to initiate a tinkle-stop before the first dirt section. It's long been speculated that i have the bladder of a newborn infant, and I didn't want that to be an issue later on in the race. Tim and I informed the field we should take a pee break, and a few along with us pulled off to whizz. the rest of the field, though, kept going. after about 5 minutes of riding at threshold, I finally caught back on. Hilariously enough, that's when THE REST OF THE @#$!% FIELD DECIDED TO STOP FOR A BREAK. not being one to waste energy (lazy) I was a bit riled up. Tim calmed me down and we kept going.

photo by Allen Richard

The first unpaved section was around mile 25 and is an 8 mile-long, sandy, pebbly mess. it's also where a violent acceleration happens, and the entire field gets strung out and eventually disintegrates. I would say about 10-15 people rode away from where I was in that dirt section.

I was able to organize a chase group with about 5 or so other riders and we quickly started chasing upon exiting the dirt section. We had 20 mi or so till the next dirt section, and everyone worked together quite nicely. short, sweet pulls were the name of the game.

Mile 65 would mark the start of the really nasty stuff- a short, 15% unpaved climb known as “Big Bertha” awaited us- some members of the group got dropped in the 2nd dirt section, and most were forced to dismount due to a lovely sand pit right in the middle of one of the climbs.

Between the 2nd and 3rd dirt section is a stretch of rolling asphalt- probably about 20 miles long. Last year this was the stretch where i started to hurt. I don’t think i was drinking enough or being disciplined enough about eating. I know- of all people, how could forget when you eat? This year i refilled all my bottles at every feed zone, stuffing water bottles down my jersey like a cuckolded domestique. I also brought along Nuun tablets and made sure to eat something every half hour. up until the last 5 miles of the race i felt great and had no problems staying smooth.

the 3rd and final dirt section comes around mile 80-something and goes on for about 5 miles or so. within that final hilariously bad stretch of road, you’re greeted with short punchy climbs between 10-18% and descents that should be reserved for MTB’ers and CX’ers. Many a dude wiped out or had their tires go pop. This definitely wasn't a good race for tubulars or carbon wheels. I stuck with my Campy Eurus wheels and the never disappointing Vittoria Pave Clincher. Those tires are bulletproof and are without a doubt the best tires for any unpaved road race.

the worst part of the race is most certainly the last road section up to the finish. You’ve just gone through the last unpaved stretch and you and your taint are hoping for a little solace. No way, Jose- while the last 10 miles are technically “paved,” the road is mostly chip seal and littered with potholes that make you wonder if you’re riding through a minefield. At this point all but 3 people in the chase group were actually taking pulls. Myself, a kid from Arkansas, and a dude from Natchez who looked like a bumblebee. I couldn’t tell if the rest of the group was pulling the douche move of waiting to attack at the last bit or if they were truly shattered.

The final stretch to the finish line is quite ugly: about a 500 meter uphill with a dip in the middle. as we turned into the final stretch, Arkansas gave me a nice little leadout and I sprinted my fat ass uphill for half a kilometer. I got a nice gap between me and the other guys who decided to sprint, and churned to the finish line as my legs filled to the brim with lactic acid. Note to self- never sprint for 500 meters uphill ever again. I was about to vomit when I crossed the finish line, but had a good 5 bike lengths from the rest of the guys.

The minute I crossed the line I rolled over to the curb and collapsed on a patch of grass. I started hallucinating and could have sworn I saw an ethereal Phil Collins telling me to head towards the light.

I had no idea what place I came in, and frankly I didn't care. I had finished in about 5 hrs and 13 minutes, and Tim had come in about 3 minutes ahead of me. We drove back to the start and shoved food and beer down our gullets. Everyone had a glazed look in their eyes and they all moved with a drawl that would make a normal Southerner seem like a coked-out NYC I-banker.

once we got the results, I was pretty happy: Tim came in 12th and I nabbed 15th. the first year I raced Rouge I came in 20th. Last year I got 18th. As long as I beat myself year over year I’m happy.

The next day we drove over to New Orleans to reward myself and undo all the good I did by riding 100 miles. Giant gulf oysters and Po’ Boys. Hoo-rah.

Call me a masochist, but there’s no better way to kick off the road season. Once the hardest race is behind you, everything else is a relative cakewalk. This race has also brought back my desire to train. Hell, maybe I’ll try and upgrade to 3 sometime this season. Sometimes, though, It’s just fun being an excitable cat 4.

See you guys in the park.

CJ

The Perfect CXtorm

I'm hangin' out in the motel room with Marco right now- after a long, muddy, awesome Day 1 at the Gloucester Gran Prix. We loaded up the Toga! Van yesterday afternoon and headed up to MA. So far the race has been the complete opposite of last year. 2208 was a sunny, gorgeous day with nice, dry conditions. Today was a muddy slopfest that would bring a tear to any Belgian's eye. Being the smartypants that i am, I had forgotten my rain jacket at home. We all ended up going to a fisherman's store where i bought a rainsuit that made me look like the Gordon's Fisherman...

Racing as a cat 3 at Gloucester is an interesting experience; 120+ people were registered, and callups to the front line are by order of registration. Needless to say, pre-reg is a furiously fast endeavor for those who take the race seriously. most of the field fills up in the first 20 minutes. I was a bit lackadaisical in signing up (by 2 hours) and ended up in the 94th spot...




That automatically removes the pressure of the race. You're out to beat your friends and humiliate them by passing then in the mud and on the straight sections. I'm very happy for all of my friends who managed to do that to me. PS-guys, go f*ck yourselves!

Photos by Marco Quezada

The weather for the day was in the 50's and raining. i made sure to bring all of my embrocations, and ended up going with mad alchemy, and tons of it. That stuff is orange, and putting it on makes you look like you just got out of the fake'n'bake booth. that being said, its delightfully greasy and warm, and water beads right off of it. hoooray for spicy grease!

Photos by Marco Quezada

We got to watch the Masters 35+ Men's race right before ours. Watching Roger, Johnny Bold, and the Gotham Guys duke it out on the muddy battlefield is a fun sight. Here's a most excellent shot of a midair collision between Chris Long and some farthead who doesn't know how to handle his bike:

Photos by Marco Quezada

As i lined up in the 20th row back, i knew what to expect; all 125 of us were going to hit the first half of the lap together, including the horrifically steep and muddy run-up. those who had shoes without toespikes were going to hate themselves. This has been my first season running tubulars and i couldn't have been happier with that. i rocked some challenge grifo's with about 35 psi for this race and they were pretty dialed-in. I think i'm going to switch to a Challenge Fango in the back though, as the rear tubular is a bit old and i could always use more traction on the backside...

It's days like today that i love my team's white kits: nothing says "euro," "i'm and idiot," or "i have a great cleaning lady" like wearing a bright white kit o the muddiest of days.

Photos by Marco Quezada

So it goes without saying- the slop was thick, but mostly rideable. I went back and forth trading blows with my friends and crossresults.net nemesises. for ONCE i didn't wipe out! I would also love to take this moment to state that putting those barriers on an uphill incline is a total pain in the ass for those of us who have short hobbit legs.

These muddy races completely sap your energy around the half-way mark; especially when you don't have a clean pit bike to hop on. the mud accumulates and bogs you down (as if i needed to be any heavier)- your back tire frequently slips out when pedaling up inclines, and you're forced to trudge up muddy rises that would otherwise be a piece of cake. Every muscle in your body hurts. you start to lose your finesse as your arms and lower back get fatigued from all the pounding (save your jokes). Somehow, though, it's still some of the most fun you'll have on a bike...

I got pulled a lap early but wasn't lapped- I spent the next few minutes wandering around like an out-of-breath hobo before heading off to get hosed off like the muddy swine the i resemble.



after getting cleaned up and donning the rain gear, i made a b-line to the beer tent. My purpose was two-fold: drink awesome beer and contribute to CX Magazine's live coverage of the Elite Men's race. I was twitterin' so hard i think Lance may have noticed. If you didn't follow the coverage, all you have to know is that Jonathan Page tore everyone a new poopyhole (Lolz). The Kona Mafia (Trebon, Wicks) weren't Present, so Jamie Driscoll, Tim Johnson, and Chris Jones were the only guys even remotely close to him. By remotely close, i mean 1:30 back...

It was also great too see our very own Andrew Crooks hold his own in the elite race. I really think this race benefitted his MTB background- awesome job Andrew! And it goes without saying, but Thanks to Marco for all the awesome shots!



Time for sleep. Day 2 tomorrow! and before you go, here's a photo of Jason Parkin mounting his bike as if it were some crazy-assed sex toy (DAYUM!)

Shake and Bake

Here we are, boys and girls- It's already mid August, and the road season is almost over. This year's season ran a bit long in the tooth and by July I felt about as burnt out as a stoner at Burning Man... I guess going full-bore starting with training camp in Feb until now takes its toll (and i don't think I'm the only one...) The ennui of late summer bike racing was taking its toll, but now three things have happened that have set the fire in my loins once again:

1. Cyclocross season's around the corner!!!! If I have any hope of finishing in the middle of the pack as a newly minted cat 3 in CX, I better start training more...
2. The team has been absolutely kicking ASS lately. 2 wins in the park by Zak, Alvin winning Tokeneke (and finally getting his cat 3 upgrade), and the little stunt Zak and I pulled at Lou Maltese (more on that below)
3. For some god-forsaken reason, I'm pre-reg'ed to do the Green Mountain Stage race. After last year's spectacle* you think i would have learned my lesson, but no.

So in order to not embarrass myself too much at GMSR or in the 09 CX season, I've ramped up my training again. I know, coach roger must be so proud. It's easy to let yourself go for a few weeks after racing pretty much nonstop since march, but I've toned down my normal diet (not really) and started putting some real miles in again.

So onto Last Sunday:

I'd never actually raced Lou Maltese before, but it's widely known as the Ultimate-mega-Excitable-cat-4-world-championships. Needless to say, this race was in our sights. The race started out in a similar fashion to CRCA races, with the addition of some non-CRCA jokers from Bklyn and Queens (Kissena, etc). It was pretty much guaranteed that it was going to be a sprint finish, what with the entire excitable cat 4's in the bunch. There were numerous half-assed attempts at breaks, but the field never let anything stick for more than 1/3rd of a lap. I played my usual be-lazy-and-don’t-do-any-work,-you-fat-sprinter card. The rest of our team did a few leg openers, with Zak, Beckerman, Tim, and Chad attacking a few times. Nothing special. The non-sprinters did a good job of helping to rein in whatever did go.

Coming into the last lap, Reggie and Zak stuck near the front. I waited till the west side/tavern to get into position- looking for my leadout of destiny- AKA TIM ROGERS.

Tim's surgical precision in the leadout is remarkable- he’s steady, finds great lines, and guides you to victory with perfect timing. I stuck onto Tim’s wheel like Britney Spears at an all-you-can-eat-buffet. Zak was on my wheel, waiting to do his thing. I had been anticipating giant leadout trains from Setanta and NYVelocity, but nothing came around. I kept an eye on "Union" Steve Marmo, who I had been talking sh!t to all week. I was praying he wouldn't whip out a tire iron and take a swipe at me mid sprint (kidding!)- he's been racing strong and i made sure i knew where he was. With 1 or 2 K to go, Beckerman goes off on a flyer. The field freaks out, knowing he's a TT monster, and the whole pack sped up and got strung out trying to chase him. I think this was extremely beneficial to our finish, as we had a great position when it got strung out.

As we got to the boathouse, Tim was chugging along. The Sprinter on Organic tried to go early and we followed. Tim rammed us about 1/3rd of the way up

Cats paw and then Zak and I went. Zak came around me and I started to sprint. Our timing was perfect and no one was getting around us. It's a great feeling when you know you're golden before you cross the line- it’s almost surreal; it goes in slow motion. I vaguely remember hearing Steve curse my name.

The minute we crossed the line 1-and-2, we did a Guido Fistpump and screamed in victory. We showed up to the Cat 4 World series and dominated on our home turf. Everyone played their part- we won because everyone raced well and for the team. Reggie, Chad, Tim, Zak- I'm so glad that we get to race together! my "oh" face even made an appearance:

This month has by far been the best month for the team so far. We're finally coming into our own, and done with the growing pains of a new team. Everyone’s racing their strengths, and we're taking advantage of those strengths with our solid, selfless teamwork. I'm so proud of our guys!

I didn't remember this right away, but before the race i had called that we would finish 1st and 2nd. As Andy Shen was photographing that day, and apparently I made sure to remind him of my prediction mid-race:

If you think that's a shocker symbol I'm throwing up, well then you don't know me very well. I'm a polite, meek person who isn't fond of the spotlight at all. I'm also 6 feet tall and have a full head of hair. Ladies?

This latest result puts me within earshot of a cat 3 upgrade. No, really- stop laughing. that wasn't supposed to be a joke!

Note- due to the lack of an actual "podium" for the podium shot, it looks like I came in 3rd if you go by height order. next time I'll wear risers in my Sidis.

*Last year's GMSR incident involved a hilarious road race stage, where i took a wrong turn, did 15 extra miles, bonked, got severe GI distress and had to poop my brains out at a pizzeria at 11:30 AM right before hitting the final climb. I proceeded to get passed by Evie Stevens, who had probably started about 1 hr after me.

3-UP

If i was any more lacksadaisical about updating, I'd be the Terry Schiavo of the blogosphere....

The racing season's is here in full force, and there was no easing into it- When your first race of the season is a 103 mile death march in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana- your racing season gets a swift kick-in-the-pants hello.

Rouge Roubaix

Photo courtesy of Tim Mueller

I could go into long, long explicit detail about this race, but i'll keep it short: It was the hardest race I've ever done, and probably one of the hardest races a cat four (and definitely a cat 5) can do. 103 miles, 3 dirt sections (mile 20, 60, 84, respectively) totaling 30 miles, with multiple 10-15% grade unpaved climbs in the later sections. aside from the un-pave, there's also 30 miles of really bad chip-seal to contend with. Not a course for Zipp 404's by any means. I slapped on a pair of Vittoria Open Corsa tires to keep from flatting like last year. Tim and i rode pretty well- Tim took 11th, which was a great result for him. I ended up coming in 18th- two spots better than last year. I had hoped to do better than that but the remnants of a stomach bug had killed my appetite the morning of the race, and i was bonking by the end. I've never been so happy to finish a race before. every part of me was cooked- my arms and hands could barely hold onto the bars after being accosted with over 5 hrs of shitty gravel and chip seal. anyone who's interested in learning more about this race should check out the excellent article in the times two weeks ago . Sure, its a bit odd for a mediocre cat 4 to be mentioned in the new york times twice in 6 months (and lets not forget the bicycling magazine spread), but my publicist says its perfectly natural. Once I'm done with my book tour things should calm down...

Photo Courtesy of Tim Mueller

Grant's Tomb



to be honest, i almost didn't do this race. on paper, cold, early season cat 4 crits are generally a bigger disaster than a Sham Wow encounter with a hooker (zing!). Peer pressure got the best of me, however, and I signed up for the 4 race. I'm glad i did! i was able to get my first podium in an open cat 4 race! aside from a gym workout that wrecked my legs, i hadn't done much that prior week- as i was recovering from the roubaix. I made sure to embrocate everything (even the naughty bits) and warm up for a good, long time. As our kits hadn't arrived yet and I didn't want to confuse any NYVelocity team members, I donned the oldschool CRCA logo and raced incognito.

when i did this race last year, I remember being in pain. it was early in the season and I hadn't done much intensity. I struggled in the middle of the pack, and accelerations made me want to have a good cry. This year, all the volume from Arizona and the roubaix seemed to pay off- my legs felt good, and i could stay near the front without much problem. sure, my HR was in the 190's for most of the race, but the legs felt good.

The race had its sketchy moments (As all cat 4 crits/nascar races do) i dodged a few crashes and survived someone bumping into me (unlike your mom, i don't go down that easily- DAMN!). As we got to the final lap, i positioned myself somewhere in the top 15. we zoomed through the sweeping 180 and into the final stretch. the final leg of the course is deceptively long. many people sprint too early, and they become other people's leadouts. i waited long enough and was able to accelerate past a good deal of people. i looked to my right and was sprinting against an NYVC member- i threw my bike and barely cinched 3rd. ahead of me was an MIT rider and a Rutgers guy.



After my heart rate came back down from 204, i took my victory lap, kissed a baby, signed some autographs, grabbed my hefty 3rd place race winnings ($40! i could buy TWO sham-wows and a slap chop with that!) and headed to Dinosaur BBQ for some celebratory pork. again, I'm a master at undo-ing any benefits i reap from training.




CRCA Race

Yesterday's CRCA race was like the first day of high school- everyone's got their new outfits and wants to show off what they'd been doing since last year. Our kits had come in the week before, and they look FREAKING AWESOME.



Whats nice about being the guy who places the kit order is that you get the kit delivered to your place. all 150 Lbs of spandex. Me= Kid in a candy store.




David really did an awesome job at designing these, and the folks at Hincapie did an awesome job making them and getting the order through with a minimum of fuss (Thanks Angela!) I definitely recommend them if you're looking for new kits for your team. I also made sure to check for sizing discrepancies before handing them out- I personally tried on EVERY single pair of Bibs to make sure they were true to size (Alvin, sorry if i stretched yours out a bit). Sometimes I wonder if being this good a teammate goes unnoticed...




That being said, our very awesome, very white kits got broken in really really quickly after yesterdays Belgian shitfest of a race. My legs felt good, but when a break developed with two of our guys in it, we let it go. a few more people bridged up to the break and it became a bit unwieldy, but the weather seemed to deter people from chasing. at that point i wanted our guys in the break to have a chance of doing something so i sat back and twiddled my figurative thumbs. i didn't even realized we were in the final sprint when it happened. Note to teammates: please let me know when we're on our final lap- I'm not very good with numbers...

So the race was was wet, grimy, cold, and awesome. We all finished the race in drenched spandex, and looking like we just finished filming a German porno.




Next week is the CRCA Points race. I'm pumped. hopefully we can pull something off- it's going to take teamwork and some cojones.

Also- on Sunday Jed and i are throwing a little party. Maybe you've heard of it? The Tour of Flanders Viewing party is Happening on Sunday, April 5th- 5PM @ BXL Cafe on 43rd between 6th and b-way. We've got beer money (you can thank sponsors Visitflanders.us and rapha for that), and an awesome raffle with tons of prizes. all of the money from the raffle goes to the CRCA junior dev program, so come drink beer and (potentially) win some awesome prizes such as a Schwinn fastback CX bike, delicious Sportique Chamois Cream, Wafel Gift certificates from Wafels & Dinges, Schwag from NYC Velo, and Many more! plus, we have a pretty freakin' sweet flyer. how can you say no??




Till then, its training, and being miserable at work for yours truly. It's good to be back.