Conundrum

Big chain ring, small chain ring? Low cadence, high cadence? We all make choices. Do we make it easier (somewhat) on ourselves or just push through the pain to get it done? Whatever it is. Training. Work. Life. I go back and forth. Today's ride had me feeling great and taking great pulls at the front. Legs were spinning, pushing a big gear, but the whole time, I knew we had to go back whence we came. 40 out, means 40 in. Really no way around it. The harder I push, meant the less I could suffer on the way back. And, we were mashing through killer intervals on the way back.

Legs were spinning, pushing a big gear. I felt good. Keep it up. Nice pull.

The turnaround comes. The intervals begin in 10 minutes. One minute standing, one minute seated, no problem. Two minutes standing, two minutes seated. This is starting to hurt. Three minutes standing, three minutes seated. OUCH! Two minutes standing, two minutes seated. Are you kidding me? One minute standing, one minute seated. That's more like it. Rest and Repeat.

Could I have executed better if I hadn't burned my matches on the way out? Maybe. The conundrum. I could had saved myself a little more, but maybe I wouldn't have experienced the same sensations? Wind in my face, sun shining, images of Southern France or Northern Italy in my head. The last 50km before you begin the ascent to Mont Ventoux from the Malaucene side absolutely takes your breath away. My legs were sensational. I felt great. This is what it means to be alive. To feel your body perform the way it was meant to be. So, no I won't hold back the next time either. Perhaps I could have completed each intervals. Perhaps, not. I'll never know. But, I do know, that on the way out, I sliced through the wind like a knife and my legs pumped liked the well-oiled pistons they are.

I wouldn't change a thing.

Rosewood Series - Cat4/5 Race Report "The Dump"

“Everything is different at The Dump!” exclaimed the young lady who registers all racers for the Rosewood Series of races. This one being the race at Vista View Park - the only rolling hills to race on in South Florida. We were lining up for the Cat 4/5 race and she told me I had to switch my race number from my left side to my right. I had carefully pinned the numbers the night before - not too tight to tear the translucent fabric of my jersey, but not too loose to cause the psychological drag in the wind. Now, I had to hastily move it and still warm up. I tendered my $20, expecting two dollars in change, when she also told me that it was $23 to race at The Dump. “Everything is different at The Dump.”

We had a large contingent of racers - young and old, big and small, first-timers and the more experienced - more than 50 in total. We would be starting at the top of the hill, different than last year when we started at the bottom. A hilltop finish, a la Mont Ventoux or Navacerrada or the Gavia. A race for the grimpeurs. As we milled around the finish, a few of the racers and their coaches were working out allegiances and who would work for whom. I found the wheel I thought would be my best bet for a solid finish and waited for the start.

At the gun, one of the racers did not want to wait to see how the race would sort itself out and took off to forge his own path through the hills. As we enter the first ascent, someone takes a turn too wide or too fast and takes another rider out with him onto the grassy area. No harm, no foul. Or so, we thought. The crash splits the pack and then it splits even more. One of the fallen riders, Gregg Blow, fresh from a great effort at the Sunrise Classic and with little competition without Yosmany Pol in the peloton, takes his frustration out on his bike and proceeds to crush everyone. He bridges up to the lead pack, if you can call it that at this point, just a few riders riding together, and rides right through them. He goes on a solo mission. A mission to show what can be done on a bike even if you are only a Cat 4 or 5 racer. He takes no solace in anyone’s wheel and offers none either. Lap by lap, USA Cycling commissaires thank each rider for their efforts as the leader laps them up one by one and in twos and threes.

Halfway through the race, more than half the peloton transitioned from racer to spectator, alliances and allegiances are gone and I have one goal, don’t get lapped. I want to finish the race. I dig deeper on every climb and rest less on every downhill. As I stand on the pedals to gain speed into the apex of the climb, Der Komissair thanks me for my participation in the race. As I peel off to the neutral area, Gregg blows by me. I swear it feels like he eats the rest of the speed and strength in me and uses it for himself to gobble up his next victim. He wins the race going away. There were valiant efforts by Steve Arniella, Unattached, leading his group of three, up and over each hill and down each valley. Damian Serrania, from Team Paisa, soloing the whole way, never giving up and pushing himself beyond his own limits. Ariel Mendez, Unattached, but sporting a BikeAmerica kit, endures and garners a top five finish.

When you climb Mont Ventoux, the citizens of Bedoin at the base of the climb will tell you, don’t try to conquer the mountain, it will win. Today, Gregg Blow attacked The Dump, and it did not push back. Chapeau!

And so it begins

I've been throwing around the idea of a weekly blog, but I wasn't quite sure of the direction I wanted it to go in. Would it be about the crazy, funny, weird things that happen in family life? Would it be rantings about work and career? Would it be about my quest to be a more than mediocre cyclist/triathlete? Or, all of the above? I think there is space for all of the above - in my life and on the blog. I think it will also be a place where I can keep all the stuff I want to keep. Let's try and see what happens. So what are the rules. Weekly writing? That sounds about right. I can keep to that schedule. Let's make it Sunday or Monday. If I can do it consistently for the next month, we'll pick a specific date and make sure to update each time.