Monthly Archives: April 2011

This evening, I was looking through some pictures from the Tour of the Gila, the NRC stage race currently underway in Arizona, and I was acutely reminded of why I do not miss being a “serious bike racer” who attends said NRC stage races.

According to the caption, that strung-out field is just starting the day’s elevation-gainy stage.

Eff. That.

Instead of ruminating about how far from a serious road racer I’ve come, I’ll relate a dream I had a while back that I’ve been meaning to share.

[Fade in from an unremembered, unconscious dream state]

I’m riding a strange bike on a strange street — a long, tree-lined boulevard of an ostensibly Western European city — with the late evening sun throwing slanty, orange streaks of light between the stone and brick buildings. It’s warm and there’s an inexplicable sense of anticipation in the air.

To my right and slightly ahead of me (“half-wheeling” me, it’s called) is the familiar, polka dotted figure of my friend Mitch Trux (Metromint).

“Dude, slow down a little…I just want to spin my legs out and check out the course!” I yell at Mitch, feigning annoyance. [This is a pretty accurate depiction of real rides with Mitch, who just wants to rip your legs off whenever he can.]

That’s when we both swing our bikes slightly to the right, then lean hard to the left as we navigate a 180 degree hairpin around a bannered barrier running down the middle of the boulevard. Mitch stands up at the exit of the corner, sprints for a few seconds, then smoothly dismounts his bike and runs up a narrow staircase — also lined with banners touting Maxxis tires — on the right side of the road leading away from the main drag.

(Yoinked from Serge Melki’s Flickr)

I strain to maintain his pace, my technical skills not quite as honed as my compatriot’s. I can hear another rider behind me, navigating the same metropolitan “terrain,” the clunk-clunk-clunk of his cleated shoes echoing on the steps behind.

At this point, my mind catches up with its subconscious self and explains what is going on: Mitch and I are warming up for the 2011 World Urban Cyclocross Championships.

Obviously.

The bikes were correct: ‘cross bikes with wide, slick road tires — commuter bikes equipped with Dura-Ace. The course was correct: barriers, hairpins, short climbs, sponsor banners, cones and flags. Everything was correct…for a sport that doesn’t really exist: cyclocross racing without a patch of dirt in sight.

It was sort of like that Chilean Urban Downhill race we’ve all seen, but with fewer dogs on the course and more physical exertion. It was awesome.

Why am I telling you about this dream now? Well, for three reasons.

1. I rode my road bike on dirt roads this afternoon, which reminded me of ‘cross racing.
2. As Mitch Trux put it when I told him about the dream, “Dude…I’m so stoked you’re dreaming about ‘cross in the middle of road season. You’re totally hooked.” Apparently my foray into ‘cross racing did more damage than I thought…
3. The Easter Sunday Classic Criterium is about as close to urban cyclocross as you can get.

That’s right, last Sunday’s criterium course in Fremont was eerily reminiscent of my dream: two left-hand hairpin turns connected by sweeping corners, some bad pavement, and a tree-lined finishing stretch. Fremont business parks are almost as pretty as the ambigously European city of my dreams, too!

In addition to the semi-technical course, we were forced to deal with 30mph winds coming off the Bay and, consequently, the race played out a lot like a ‘cross race. Within a few laps, the ~30 rider P/1/2 field had shattered and small groups of riders were strewn all around the course.

Combined with the fact that Steve Reaney (Cal Giant), Eric Wohlberg (Form Fitness) and I spent most of the race heckling one another, the whole experience was rather ‘cross-like. It was awesome.

In the end, Reaney and I escaped from a group of five riders comprised of Wohlberg, Kirk Carlsen (Garmin-Chipotle) and Rainier Schaefer (Mike’s Bikes). As you have undoubtedly come to expect, I was beaten soundly in the two-man sprint.

Nevertheless, this race was pretty cool and it makes me think Urban Cyclocross has some real-world potential. I hope they continue to promote the event in future years, and rumor has it the director is looking into adding a third hairpin. w00t.

Jess Raphael…you ran a win-and-out criterium and have a habit of selecting technical-bordering-on-suicidal courses. Are you down to promote some urban CX action? Let’s do it.

I think it’s safe to say that tubular glue should come with a complimentary six pack of beer.

For some reason, tubular gluing and beer drinking go well together — I guess it’s like going on an awkward date with a girl you know has the reputation for being crazy. You’re aware you’re in for a bit of an intense experience going in, but no matter how well-prepared you are for the debacle, it’s still bound to get messy; hence, you have a few beers to keep the whole situation mellow.

I had such a date this evening.

Now, not only did I require a beer or two in preparation, but I also needed a pick-me-up to get through the experience. Thankfully, the kind folks at Relegate Coffee — official coffee supplier of the hottest women’s cycling team on the planet, Vanderkitten Racing — have been supplying me with “a fistful of flavor” this season…their slogan, not mine.

This is what happens when you drink a coffee fit for the likes of Mike Tyson, regardless of the time of day:

However, even as I was being elbow-dropped by a bag of overly-aggressive coffee beans, I realized that my entire tubular gluing preparation routine was proceeding less efficiently than it ought to have been. Thus, I infused my beer with coffee grounds to save time, and in the process developed a new Relegate blend of my own.

Four-Loko ain’t nothin’ compared to straight-up coffee grounds in your beer. Boom.

Now, in the midst of all these tubular-gluing, coffeebeer-making shenanigans, I received a Facebook message from one Jordan Kestler (Cal Cycling), who I’ll glorify hereafer as the arch nemesis of my alter ego, “Big Pink.”

Hell…I’ll go ahead and say that Kestler is my arch nemesis in general, because he’s got a pretty entertaining blog of his own, but with way more facial hair. (What are they feeding college kids these days, horse hormones?)

Anyway, Kestler — and “Joe,” who I take to be Joe Iannarelli (Yahoo?) — seem to be backhandedly mocking me for missing the Collegiate Conference Crit Championships this weekend, but I’ve got an alibi, so I don’t give a damn.

In fact, Arch Nemesis Kestler, “Big Pink” was busy racing in his first P/1/2 race as an attempt to make a deferential, supportive gesture to women’s cycling.

(Photo Credit: David Cheung)

Too bad Dibble was in that shot, as I feel like it ruins my message.

Regardless, in spite of the effeminate pink jersey, I had a couple of good breakaway attempts and my teammate Brian Buchholz won the field sprint, so it was a successful race.

My pink-jersey shenanigans were significantly less successful, however; half the people at the race had no idea why I was wearing it, and when I explained that it was symbolic of my support of women’s bike racing, I received scornful looks from men and women alike.  “Uh, what the hell are you wearing?” and “I’m a female bike racer and I don’t wear pink!” were  the most common responses to my presence throughout the day. Alas…I hope some of you enjoyed it, even if only to laugh at my sense of “style.”

The following day, I decided to race the Easter Sunday Classic instead of some podunk collegiate crit, expecting a small field and an easy race. Instead, I found myself chasing Steve Reaney (Cal Giant), Eric Wohlberg (Form Fitness PRO), and Kirk Carlsen (Garmin-Chipotle) around a double-rainbow of a crit course in a ripping crosswind. I’ll probably talk a bit more about this race tomorrow, but for now…I’ve got some tires to mount.

And for the record, Kestler is not really my arch nemesis. That title is reserved for Reaney. It’s hard to express how much I hate losing races to that guy…but I’ll try tomorrow.

See y’all later!

Last time I posted, I mentioned that I was embarrassed by my fitness at the Santa Cruz criterium. Well, the whole fiasco became even more embarrassing last night, when I received an email from local photographer Tim Westmore — who I had talked to before Sunday’s race — which said the following.

“Rand…here is something to ease your embarrassment.”

Attached to the email was this photograph.

(Photo and Photoshop Credit: Tim Westmore)

Now, I’ve been known to haphazardly graft my head onto other people’s bodies when I win races, most notably Chris Stastny (Cal Giant) and Richard Nixon (Criminal Politicians); however, after nearly being dropped at Santa Cruz, a professional photographer decided to professionally photoshop my head onto The Praying Mattis’ victory salute. Wow…just wow.

Anyway, this galvanized my interest in riding my bike during the week, so I climbed Mount San Bruno this evening at an undisclosed pace.

Now, it’s not “training” if you don’t know how quickly (or slowly) I ascended the hill, so don’t go accusing me of “getting serious” — you should know better than that. I guess we’ll see how my totally-unstructured-yet-improved riding plan pays off at the Menlo Park GP on Saturday!

Speaking of the Menlo Park GP, I was looking at the registration page this evening and I was surprised to see that the lists of registered riders were quite sparsely populated.

Now, I’m partial to this race because it aligns nicely with my present cycling capacity: it’s close to where I live, it’s flat, and it’s a criterium. However, it’s also one of my favorite events because it has the proverbial balls to promote women’s categories more heavily than men’s (as awkward as that may sound). That’s right, Velogirls, the promoting club, offers cash prizes to the ladies and merchandise to the men; effectively, this race is for the women and about the women, and the male categories are merely offered as a sideshow.

Those of you who read regularly will know that I love women, and the more of them we get to races, the happier I am. I wholeheartedly support the Velogirls’ attempt to develop female bike racing — thus, I’m going to show up to the Menlo Park GP year after year, rain or shine.

Now, USACycling rule 1N5c states:

“Category 1 & 2 riders who are members of the same Team or club must wear identifiably similar uniforms when competing in a massed start race except where different uniforms are called for by USA Cycling regulations.”

In spite of this rule, I intend to wear Big Pink during the P/1/2 race as an emblem of my support for women’s cycling — and to make the men’s race even more of a sideshow.

I hope the race officials will turn a blind eye on my transgression!

Now, if no one shows up to the race to mock my neon pink, exceedingly tight, female-cut jersey, then the stunt will be a failure and my impending disqualification will be for naught. Sadly, it seems people are inclined to skip Menlo Park this year for two reasons:

1. It overlaps with the Copperoppolis RR.
2. Male bike racers (of all categories) seem to think they are entitled to cash prizes.

The first reason is valid, albeit unappealing to those of us who enjoy sleep and who would like our taints to remain unravaged by the jarring pavement.

The second reason is total bogus, however, and people who complain about a lack of prize money are clearly delusional. Bike racing is a hobby, even at the category 1/2 level, and if one only derives enjoyment from this sport when there’s money on the line, he/she might as well take up slot machines instead — the odds of monetary gain are probably higher.

In summary: come race the Menlo Park GP, support women’s bike racing, and scream nasty comments at the dude wearing the pink jersey…or else you’re a greedy sissy.

No one said I was mature.

I’m embarrassed about my showing in today’s Santa Cruz Crit — though not quite as much as last year.

I was so embarrassed, I was even afraid to show off my nipples; yeah, it was that bad.

I’ll be honest: my way of life, while fun to blog about when racing goes well, has its downsides.

You see, it’s really easy for me to make fun of the sport of cycling — to talk about how much ice cream I eat and how little I train — when I do well. When I show up to a technical, demanding, classic criterium and proceed to muddle around in the middle of the pack, unable to breathe, unable to pedal, unable to attack…well that’s just embarrassing. The past few weeks at work have been busy, my diet has been despicable, and I rode my bike approximately five times. It certainly showed, and I barely finished the race. Hella PRO.

To add insult to injury, anti-critter James Mattis (Cal Giant) — who needs a nickname, and so I’ve settled on “The Praying Mattis” — went off the front and won today’s race*.

That’s equivalent to me walking up to James, spitting in his face, stealing his sunglasses, knocking his bike over, and then beating him up Old La Honda by five minutes. Sort of.

Anyway, I think I’m gonna throw down the gauntlet and challenge my fat ass to some hard training this week; I’ll let you know if it accepts.

Since I oppose the “Marc Pro – Strava team” and their practices (beating me, mostly), I will not post my rides to Strava as proof — you’ll just have to take my word for it.

With that, I’ll see you later. I gotta go strap my Marc Pro on and hit the altitude tent now that I’m a serious cyclist again. Have a good evening!

*Perhaps James avoids being eaten by his wife by bribing her with his race winnings.

Admittedly, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted to this blog. No one likes excuses, so I won’t bother; however, I want you to know that it hasn’t escaped me that I’ve been a bad blogger, nor has it escaped the notice of ubiquitous internet commentator, Pat Briggs (Yahoo?). Briggs can be counted on to comment on every bike-related website known to man, including Facebook status updates.

He started out making sense, then quickly trailed off in one of his usual rants from the recesses of his aging mind.

Nevertheless, he’s right that I should update, if for no other reason than because the front page of my blog has been plastered with photographs of John Bennett’s biceps for weeks now. He may have won a stage of Redlands and the KOM jersey to boot, but I think I’ve given him his 15 minutes (days?) of fame on this site.

I’ll be getting back to my usual blogging later this week, but for now, let me share a quick story with you from the Apple Pie Criterium a few weekends ago.

I’ll begin by saying that I was had by Steve Reaney (Cal Giant) on April 1st.

No, not “had” in the euphemistic sense of the word like the rest of Cal Giant’s team, but “had” in the April Fools Day sense. You see, I awoke on April 1st and headed to work, where I was met by an email from Steve — the current National Amateur Criterium Champion — in my inbox. “I’m quitting the sport,” it stated matter-of-factly. He went on to wax eloquently about his resignation from cycling, then finished the email with, “Good luck with racing and grad school, I’m glad I met you.”

It was heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. I was flattered that he was glad to have met me, yet sad that his overbearing, asinine personality would be absent from the peloton. On top of it all, his resignation had likely passed the title of “most aggressively angry cyclist” to yours truly, a mantle I have been preparing myself to inherit for years.

I was also pretty psyched that Steve had told me first, because my announcement of his retirement on my blog would lend me some serious “breaking news story” street cred. I began composing the post in my head immediately.

Self-promotional motives aside, I replied cheerily to Steve’s email with some serious emotion. I said that I was sad to see him go, that I would miss his presence at races, and that I wished him the best.

[click] Email sent.

Not more than ten seconds later, the day’s date dawned on me…and I frantically sent an embarrassed, “No, you didn’t get me…I know this is a joke” email. I may have also claimed that, as payback for the joke, I’d beat him at the Apple Pie Crit a few days later because he was old and washed up.

Wait…he won? Seriously? Dammit! I was fooled and athletically embarrassed by that guy in the span of a few days. Oh well…I guess it’s not that surprising that Reaney would win a race where an entire pie is the prize.

That’s all I’ve got for now, sad as that sounds.

Now that life is settling down a bit, I’ll be racing again, which ought to lead to more blogging material. While I had originally planned on racing the upcoming Chico Stage Race in my hometown, I think it’s pretty obvious that my road racing and time trialing days are over; instead, I’ll be heading to the Santa Cruz Crit for some classic, downhill-hairpin-turn-on-terrible-pavement action, praying that Jandy doesn’t show up again*.

See you all there!

*Bonus points for those of you who know what I’m talking about.

As far as I can tell, the writers for NorCalCyclingNews.com — which has been purported to be “THE blog” for racing updates — are spending all their energy on lame, predictable April Fools Day Jokes; in the absence of their typically excellent and always error- and typo-free reporting, I’ll give you some real news.

I’ve been making fun of John Bennett (Cal Giant) for about a year, more or less since the day I met him last season at the UCSC Pacific Grove Criterium. Later, at the Tour de Nez, he earned himself the nickname “Chamois Boy” after I caught him wearing his race bibs for over nine hours consecutively — even though the race that day was only 90 minutes long.

However, I can’t mock this.

Today, as I watched breathlessly via #redlands Twitter feed, Bennett pulled off an incredible victory in the first stage of the 2011 Redlands Bicycle Classic from a break of three. That is the win of a lifetime — a stage won most recently by the likes Santiago Botero (Kelme sounds better than Rock Racing) and Jeff Louder (BMC) — and Bennett clearly has more of a talent for cycling than I knew. That, or he supplements his pedalstroke with his bulging biceps and has the vasculature of a horse.

Now that’s a victory salute.

Not only did Bennett win the stage, but it also secured him a day in the Sprinter’s Jersey.

Now, John gets a free pass from my mockery because that win is far too badass, even though the concept of him wearing the Redlands Sprint Jersey is kind of funny; however, Phil Gaimon (Kenda) is not gonna get away with groping Mancebo without scorn.

To get that far around Mancebo’s midsection from that angle takes some serious groping skill. It’s a good thing there weren’t podium girls in attendance.

Then again…I’d probably do the same thing to Mancebo, but I’m nowhere near fast enough to get that close.

Anyway, I’m stoked for Mr. Bennett and I hope he still acknowledges crit scum like me when he returns. In fact, I’m hoping that John Bennett will give me exclusive “post-breakout result” interview rights before those “genuine news outlets” get a hold of him…

Congratulations, John!