10 hours

I did a couple of rides this weekend that totaled 10 hours exactly with no pain! Well, actually no pain from my injured hamstring, but as I write this I’m very sore and tired!

The first ride on Saturday was a long road ride with the Rock Lobster team. We started a Toro Park across from Laguna Seca on Hwy 68 and then rode down the Salinas Valley on River Rd, rolled up and down on Arroyo Seco Rd., had a pit stop in the middle of nowhere at a tiny country store, up and over the first climb of the day (2400’), down the Carmel Valley into a head wind, stopped in Carmel Valley Village for another pit stop, up the dreaded Laureles Grade and finally down Hwy 68 back to El Toro Park. It was 87 miles long and almost 5000’ of climbing (almost the exact same numbers as a Flamingo ride). This was absolutely a fantastic ride with great bunch of people. I cramped pretty hard going Laureles Grade and had to get off of my bike to unlock, but other than that it was amazingly beautiful ride and roads that I had never ridden on.

The second ride on Sunday was a moto up to and around and down Ursula Mnt, up to the U and then down Mailboxes with Careyluks, X-Terra Matt, Margarita Dave, Gerry-Gerry and Gerry and Shauna P. I was super tired at the beginning of this ride, but about half of the way through, I started feeling much better. In fact, after 3 hours of fun I almost went for another lap with Careyluk and X-Terra Matt as I was in a large state of euphoria from the descent, but knew I had to get home to see Nancy. This was the smartest decision I made all weekend because by the time I got home and showered and feed myself it suddenly felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders and I realized just how tired and cranky I was!!

Here are some pictures of the fun:

Everybody was very chipper in the morning including young Max.

Our little peloton.

It was great to see David Gill back on the bike after a lengthy back injury

Herr Swiggboss in front of the little country store that saved our butts.

California in the spring time and top of the first climb.

The last pit stop around mile 70. Max is about to devour a whole bag of Goldfish crackers!

OTB

OFF THE BACK

For the last month and a half i haven't blogged, so here's a random collection of events and thoughts

Last December while on a mountain bike ride with Team Careyluk, other friends and teammates I crashed going over a log that I have rode over 100 times before. It was near the end of the ride and I was fatigued. The split second while I was in the air, after going over the bars, my hamstring cramped and I landed awkwardly. It felt like I slightly pulled my hamstring, but it was nothing serious and I dusted myself off and keep riding; no worries. A week later while on a night moto, I felt a weird tinge where my hamstring connects to my ass. This "tinge" steadily became worse and after 4 more cross races, a Big Basin cross bike ride and the first Flamingo of the year I came to the realization that this constant pain was not going away and I decided to pull the plug; I would take the rest of the month off. It was a combination of this injury and complete burnout from the long cross season that made this decision easy to follow. It certainly wasn't because I suddenly learned to listen to my body! I went and got some stim, massage and manipulation. I made love to the dreaded ice bag and tried to hatch the heating pad. March rolled around and I started riding in earnest again. The pain was almost gone while riding, which is a huge improvement, but there is still something there. I promised myself that I wouldn't sprint or do all out efforts uphill while standing as this seems to agitate the injury. This has been particularly difficult during group road rides! It's very difficult not to join in the "reindeer games" that happen before the city limit and other sprint signs!! This business of growing older and taking forever for things to heal or recuperate is wearing thin on me because it makes me feel like a whiny baby!

One of my best friends became very sick. Bosco P. Manx, my faithful cat for the last 15 years became very ill. Bosco was diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease. Besides having it come out of both ends (much to the chagrin of my dress shoes!), Bosco dammed near withered away to nothing. It got to the point that I had to hand feed him turkey from the butcher as he would touch anything else, not even his beloved tuna! Bosco is on drugs now and is doing better, but I fear that he is on borrowed time.

My girlfriend Nancy bought a house and moved from a mega termite infested mansion next to the beach to a tiny little house in the Seabright area. I never knew one person could have so much stuff! I'm not much of a plant person so I never noticed that all of the outdoor plants at the termite mansion were in pots. Nancy knew she would eventually move and never put anything into the ground. After filling the tiny new house to the rafters, it was time to move the plants, lots of plants! Here's a picture of Nancy arranging the last of many loads. After the moving was done, then came the task of putting everything in it's place. Nancy soon realized how small her new house is as it became apparent that not everything would fit, but with typical Teutonic efficiency she arrange everything by there importance: used a lot, used sometimes and garage sale. Judging by the ever growing pile in the garage, there's going to be one hell of a garage sale this spring!

What in the world has this guy done to the media for them to completely ignore him during the Tour of California? Didn't Priority Health or Bissel buy enough air time? Ben has had a great run for the last couple of months. It proves that clean hard work can take you to the top!

















For the last couple of months work has been very hectic. This picture sums it well, but unfortunately I'm the chicken!

I'm actually a much better sailor than I am a bike racer. I have been fortunate to sail with some of the best teams around and have won some very big regattas, long distant races, set course records and have won a couple of national championships along the way, but I must admit that my stoke for the local sailing scene had dwindled to the point that I hadn't step foot on a boat in several months. Along with daylight savings change came Wednesday night sailing (race) in Santa Cruz. The Wednesday night race is not officially sanctioned and it’s commonly referred to as a “beer can race” There is no race committee keeping track of the starts and finishes and certainly there are no results posted. It kind of like your local Saturday ride in that it's usually contested pretty hard and there certainly are rivalries that develop with your peers and maybe mentally you may keep track of who won the sprint and who dropped who. It’s the same deal with sailing in Santa Cruz on Wednesdays. I went sailing for the first two Wednesdays nights of the year and had a blast! For the last couple of months some friends have been trying to convince me to race in the Melges 24 World Championships in Santa Cruz in May. I kept telling them I didn’t want to sail, but they were very persistent. In light of the last couple of Wednesday night races the next time they asked me to race I agreed. I came to a couple conclusions before agreeing to go: 1. There’s a world championship happening in my backyard and I should stop being so grumpy and go. 2. We don’t have a snowball chance in hell to win and in fact a top 20 placing would be great and a top 10 placing would be a miracle! In sailing I’m hypercompetitive, so instead going out with super high expectations, I’m going to go racing with a bunch of good, old (avg. age on the boat is around 48) friends and enjoy the ride! The picture above is the boat I'll be racing on. If you say the name real fast you'll understand!

Tom Meyer of the San Francisco Chronicle is my favorite political cartoonist. I love his drawing style and I find him to be very funny and pointed. Here are a couple of my favorites:

FDA's new guideline for eating

just before the election

during last year's Tour de France

High stakes poker?

It makes sense now

for more got to: http://www.sfgate.com/comics/meyer/

Flamingo'ed

I got “Flamingo'ed” yesterday. The first part of the ride went well, but after we left the fire station on Skyline my legs started to cramp and I was dropped before Alpine. I rode in the groupetto and until we reached Cloverdale Rd. While the rest of the group headed to Pescadero for lunch, I hung a left onto Cloverdale Rd. and continued on by myself. I ate a sandwich on the fly and prayed that my legs wouldn’t fully lock up. My prayer went unanswered as I hit the tiny hill where big wide open Cloverdale Rd. turns into narrow Cloverdale Rd., my legs completely cramped to the point that I could not pedal anymore. I got off the bike and hobbled to the top of the hill. After a couple of minutes my legs finally released and I plopped down into the dirt.
Good God, even though I was having a tuff time, it truly was a beautiful day! I sucked down some Cliff Shot and drank a bunch of water and enjoyed the vista. I hopped back onto my bike and continued on. Every hill I encounter put me on the verge of cramping and I was in my own personal world of hurt! I couldn’t pedal hard enough to make all of the little aches and pains go away! I swear time started to expand. By the time I reached Scotts Creek I was starting to feel a bit better, but I had to stop in Davenport for some water.
I’m back on the bike minding my own business when suddenly, right around the red white & blue mailbox, a car is pacing me. I look over and it’s Team Santa Cruz’s Commandant David Gill. David pulls ahead and then pulls over. I stop and we shoot the breeze. A couple of minutes later the rest of the ride flies buy! David and I pull out and David motor paces me almost back to the group, but traffic forces him away just before contact is made. For the next mile I give chase, but the gap hovers right around 50 meters and I just can’t close it. The group hits the Dimeo Lane hill and I can see Aaron Kereluk pull around and attach. I watch as the group splinters into 3 pieces before me. I stop chasing around Wilder and cruise in. I hear later that the sprint was chaotic as somebody flatted just as everybody started their kick for the city limit sign! I haven’t cramped like this in a long time and I hope it will be a long time before it happens again!

The Big Bonk

This last weekend was the end of the 06/07 cyclocross season, a season that for me began on September 13th with first DFL race in Golden Gate Park (where David Gill beat me and the rest of the Team Santa Cruz crew). 20 races later the last Peak Season race was upon us and I greeted it with mixed feelings. On one hand it’s been a bloody long season! Getting up long before the sun comes up and loading the van with all of the team equipment, filling bottles (over 300 for the season), loading Tyrant JG, Supreme Justice, Race Director, Team Field Marshal and Dictator-for-Life David Gill into the van, driving to the venue and then setting up and breaking down the team compound had gotten old. The fact that our Team put on the last 3 races made for exceptionally long days/weekends and added to my fatigue.

loading Dave and the van.
On the other hand I love to race cyclocross and love to go to cyclocross races!! I will never be the fastest, probably never win a race, but I don’t think it’s about that. It’s the comeraderie and the relaxed atmosphere that permeates the venues that sets it apart. Where else but cyclocross race can you have total strangers cheering you on, offer you a bottle when you really need it and let you use their spare wheel? You can ask virtually any rider of higher skill a question about technique or setup and they will be more than happy to talk to you about it. What other form of racing will the pros say thank you on the way by for moving your sorry, slow-as-molasses, about-to-be-lapped butt off the good line to allow them an easy pass? For me personally this has never happened at a road race, crit or even a mountain bike race.

Not to say that all things are roses in the NorCal cross world. There were elbows and fists thrown at some of the beginning classes at the Pilarcitos Series, where the fields were very large, and even one incident of an older rider knocking down a junior on purpose (that guy should be keelhauled!!!), but generally, the Women & Men in the Elite & Master A & Singlespeeder categories show the utmost sportsmanship and set a fine example for everybody. If you race in the morning in the beginning classes and don’t hang out at the venue for the rest of the day, you are surely short-changing yourself an entertaining learning experience. It is perhaps this sportsmanship and spirit that will make the next seven months seem ever so long before the next cx season begins.

Race Report: Peak Season III, Relay Race and final race of the season.

Relay Race:

I was somehow conned into doing the relay race by some of my teammates at the last second. What this meant for me was no warm up! I started the beginning of the season at DFL #1 in Golden Gate Park without a warm up and might as well end it the same way. The usual chaos ensued for the relay, but by the time I was supposed to ride in the anchor position (4th), the race appeared to be running pretty smooth. Teammate Katie London completed her lap and we slapped hands like tag team wrestlers indicating it was my turn to do a lap. Everybody who was racing on a bike with gears had to remove their rear wheel and leave it on the ground. After high fiving their teammates for the exchange they would have to install the rear wheel before they could take off for their lap. Other people, including myself, on singlespeeds could not easily remove our rear wheels and consequently had to run 50 meters to a tree and back as a penalty. At the exact moment that Katie and I slapped hands, so did arch-rival and good friend Stella Carey slap hands with her teammate. Game On!! I beat her in the run to the tree and back and was on my bike first with Stella in hot pursuit! It didn’t take long for her to pass me as I just wasn’t feeling right. By the time I exited the long pig barn, Stella had a pretty big gap on me. As we hit the off camber side hill into the double off chamber chicane I was back on her butt, but when we hit the flat road she pulled away again. She had a bobble at the single barrier on top of the little hill and I again was right on her tail. As we hit the downhill grass section I seem to go into a fog and prepared to turn right toward the corral when suddenly, Stella turns left. Geez, I felt stupid! After all, I helped build this section of the course and put the gate in so we could shorten the course for the relay race. This would not be the last time that I would forget where I was going.

Having fun with Stella!
Stella ended up beating me by about 3 seconds, but afterwards I felt absolutely like _hit!!! “Going as hard as you can for 3.5minutes without a warm up was stupid” I kept telling myself. I was looking for excuses for feeling so bad. After riding around for a bit, I went back to the pits to get ready for my second lap, of which I cannot recall much.

Singlespeed race (21st cx race of the year):

I barely had time to get my singlespeed number pinned on and pop a Clif Shot before it was time to race. The whistle blew and I got the holeshot going into the first turn. Except for one major thing; I forgot the turn was there! _hit, _hit and triple _hit!!! By the time I realized my error it was to late to turn in and I ended up on the wrong side of the tape. I was told later, after the race, that this maneuver caused chaos behind me as riders were lining up on my wheel for the turn. The only thing I can remember for the next two laps was being passed and then re-passing and then being passed again by Dorothy Wong, Andi Mackie, Kathleen Bortolussi and teammates Katie London and Daniel Henderson. Believe it or not, I missed the corner at the end of the straight away again!!!!! Somewhere in there I bonked so hard that I left my body, and in retrospect I’m quite sure I was bonking long before the race started. For the next five laps I rode around in a semi catatonic state. About all I can recall is that I developed a fan club at the end of the start/finish straightaway and every time I would approach the corner they would yell in unison “RIGHT TURN” to ensure no more mishaps. What a swell bunch of folks!

After the race was over I staggered around a bit and then collapsed in van for 15 minutes or so. I made myself get up and popped a Clif Shot, drank two bottles of Cytomax, ate a Clif Bar and had a beer; in 20 minutes I feeling human again! We then broke down and cleaned the course and then dropped all of the equipment off at Jeff’s house. By the time I got home it was 19:00 and I had been going full speed for 15.5 hours. On the way to the shower I hopped on the scale and to my amazement I had dropped 5lbs. I then went over to Nancy’s house for dinner and, incredibly, she cooked marinated tri tip, potatoes au gratin and had made a huge salad. After consuming a huge portion of food and a couple of glasses of wine, I was one happy camper!!

The next morning I hit the scale on the way to the shower and much to my shock, I hadn’t gained an ounce from the night before! This caused me to give this predicament a good ponder while showering and I came to the conclusion that in the 3 chaotic days leading to the race I had basically stopped eating (enough) food. I guess I had allowed myself to get a little wound up about the last race of the season. All day Monday the only thing I could think of was food!

Singlespeed podium

SUNDAY! SUNDAY!! SUNDAY!!! SUNDAY!!!! SUNDAY!!!!!!
Team cyclocross relay race this Sunday at the Watsonville Fairgrounds
BE THERE!!!!!

The Day After
I had a grand cross bike ride on Sunday with a bunch of friendly boys and girls: 6.5 hour total time with 6000+ feet of climbing (sometimes walking) in 65 miles. The mellow mood of the crew and an awe inspiring view of Ano Nuevo Island from the top of Chalk Mnt. (I forgot my camera) made all of the pain and cramping on the way home well worth it! Consequently, the pull of gravity felt much stronger on Monday morning and I felt very lethargic! I was having a debate with myself on whether I wanted to go on a lunch ride or not. A visual inspection through the office window and a quick check on the outside temperature via the web confirmed it was the first nice weekday in awhile. So I girded my loins, suited up and stepped out the office door. It was indeed a beautiful day! I was riding along the bike path next to the Uvas Creek which is flat as a pancake and is great for spinning the old legs out. I also particularly like riding the path for 2 reasons: 1. I don’t entirely trust the drivers here in Garlic Town. 2. The rednecks out here haven’t chucked bottles of beer out the window onto the path (yet). I have never ridden in a town with so much glass and or debris on the side of the road (there is nothing more irritating than getting a flat during the lunch ride!). The sun is shining, the music in my ears is kicking and most of my friends may not believe this, but I have a big smile on my face! I come upon a 20 something couple walking on the path with a tiny grey puppy. Just as I swing to the left to pass them the girl kicks the puppy soccer style causing the puppy to somersault 4 or 5 times!!!! I think I audible moaned. I wanted to turn around and scream at them, but I kept on riding. As what I had just seen rewound over and over in my head, sun didn’t seem as bright anymore, the music in my ears was dull and my smile was gone. All I could think and or wish is that people like this don’t breed!

Peak Season #2 01/14/07

I wasn’t feeling all that chipper before the start of my race. During my warm up I couldn’t tell if I was feeling good or bad, but I was feeling very lackadaisical. The Elite Men and Singlespeed classes would start together and managed to slot myself right in the middle of the first row. There was a very long paved straightaway that lead to a right turn onto the dirt. I managed to get the holeshot! I didn’t think this was possible on a singlespeed as the straightaway was so long I thought the geared riders would have smoked past me. I must have looked like a sewing machine at full rpm!

A couple of corners later I was passed by my own bike! Actually, a guy visiting from Ireland borrowed my geared bike to race on. As we hit the race car track I pulled to the right and let a gang of riders buy. I didn’t want to go so hard that I would immediately blow up. I could see teammates Mike Martin and Erik Thunstrom along with some other guy I didn’t recognize, who were all on singlespeeds behind me. I rode moderate tempo until they caught me, but by then, I felt recovered from my initial effort. The rest of the first lap was uneventful.

As we went pass the scoring area/finish line Mike M. who was at front sat up, so I threw an acceleration in to see what would happen. It had no real effect, but it did tell me that I was feeling exceptionally well! By the time we hit the zigzag through the barns, I was riding steady tempo at the front. The next thing I knew Mike M. throws down an attack and on the way buy throws me an elbow! My own teammate throwing me a bow!? His attack did nothing to shake us up. When we hit the climb out of the lower section of the fairgrounds to the top near the parking lot, I went to the front and set a hard tempo. When we reached the top of the climb I looked back and found only Erik on my wheel. The guy I didn’t recognize was long gone and Mike M. had popped. During the next lap I talked to Erik and told him since he was ahead on points, I would work for him and wouldn’t sprint him for the finish.

For the next couple laps we traded pulls, but we couldn’t bring the rider in front of us back. It was kind of bummer that Mike M. blew as I think the 3 of us working together could have brought the rider in front back. The cool thing about this course was it had plenty of places to take visual checks on the riders in front and behind. We kept gaining on Mike M. until we couldn’t see him any more, but suddenly a new rider appeared behind us! I was convinced it was the singlespeeder we had dropped earlier. I started getting paranoid about getting caught from behind as this usually seems to happen to me when a race! Erik and I made a plan on what to do if it happened. Suddenly Pat Schott appeared behind us. He rapidly passed the rider behind us and was making large gains on us.

Going into the last lap Pat had almost closed the gap to us and was ready to lap us and the guy behind him had taken a huge chunk out of us. This certainly increased my paranoia, so I went to the front and started to give it all I had left! Pat caught us half way through zigzag in the barn and I hoped onto his wheel. We started up the hill on Pat’s wheel and about half the way up Pat slowed a bit so I came around to take a pull. In the process I gaped Pat and dropped Erik. Dooh! Pat came back around me and I soft pedaled behind him while waiting for Erik. Pat rode away and Erik finally caught up to me on the finish line straightaway and I let him pass so he could score extra points. All of the paranoia I suffered on the last to laps was unfounded as the rider in question behind us was in the Elite Men class and not the Singlespeed class.

This was most certainly my best race of the year. I felt very strong and didn’t blow once. I have absolutely no idea why I felt so good. I did nothing unusual in the days leading up to the race. I had a lot of fun riding with Erik and he was very stoked to have someone work for him. 17 races down and one to go!

The Preface:

Usual morning drill: Get up at the crack of darkness, load van, wait for Supreme Justice, Race Director, Team Field Marshal and Dictator-for-Life David Gill, load David into the van and drive to Coffeetopia for liquid stimulates. The drive was very pleasant, but not because of David’s company; it just happen to be a very beautiful morning!

The Course:

Instead of racing in the usual spot at the East Garrison of the old Fort Ord, we were racing at the old campground section where they usually hold the CCCX mountain bike series. This could only mean one thing, lots of elevation change! This certainly was not your typical cross course. There was heaps of high speed singletrack, a blazing fast paved downhill section, and lots of low speed turns, barriers, and two little logs that you could bunny hop and one big one that you could not. The big story though was the climbing. I can’t ever remember racing a cross course that climbed so much. The climb started before the finish line and was broken up by a little run up with a rideable steep climb directly afterwards that led to a false flat double track to a set of double barriers at the very top of the hill.

Race # 1
Master A 45+:

What a disaster! I had a bad start and was pinched off twice causing me to lose a lot of places and all of my momentum. I then somehow managed to kick my left side rear brake arm on the remount at the top of the course and knocked the retaining spring off of its perch. I stopped and tried to fix it, but to no avail. It never occurred to me to in my anaerobic state unhook my brake cable; instead I rode 2/3 of a lap with the left side brake pad jammed against the rim. UGH! I saw teammate Karen Kefauver and asked her to have my singlespeed ready for a bike change. She made it to the pits before I did and the exchange was made. I rode my singlespeed for half of a lap and was meet by Supreme Justice, Race Director, Team Field Marshal and Dictator-for-Life David Gill in the feed zone where we did another change back to my original bike. After a couple of laps on my geared bike I was feeling very sloth like. I figured I was having a really bad day and put it on cruise control and finished the race. It wasn’t until I loaded the bike into the van at the end of the day that I realized that with even the retaining spring in the proper position, the brake pad was still rubbing the rim. I finished the race in last place and ended 7th overall for the series (I tied for 6th, but lost the tie breaker).

Race #2
Singlespeed:

After the long uphill at the start of the race, I ended up behind a rider who I will call “the Kid”. The Kid and I were the tail end of a lone pack of riders as we snaked down the singletrack. The Kid was having a very hard time staying on course. By the time we reentered the dirt after the long paved section, there was a small gap between us and teammate Eric Thunstrom and Tim of Buy-Cell. The Kid was sliding all over the place and buy the time we hit the dirt straight away next to the parking lot I got pass him. As I passed the Kid he made some discouraging remark (smack) to me. The Kid re-passed me in the next corner, but I was not concerned being that we hadn’t even completed one lap yet. I was taking the old bull vs. the young bull approach. We hit the double small log section and the Kid made an error and I got a gap on him. There were sections of this course that doubled back upon itself and you could tell if you were gaining or losing on the riders in front or behind you. For the next couple of laps the gap to Eric and the Buy Cell guy held steady while the gap on the Kid increased.
By the third lap I couldn’t see the Kid anymore and Eric and Tim were slowly pulling away. The climb on this course was taking its toll on me. Except for being lapped, I rode the rest of the race by myself. I got a nice tow from Pat Schott for half of a lap. It was a pleasure to follow Pat in the singletrack section. This was in stark contrast to following Olaf Vanderhoot who almost missed a couple of corners and carved large divots into the dirt with his tires. I’m not sure the word finesse is Olaf vocabulary when it comes to riding on the dirt. I ended up finishing 6th overall in the singlespeed class. 4 cyclocross series down and one to go!

According to an article I read in the Santa Cruz Senile yesterday, entitled “New purpose for overlooked fat”. Chicken fat is the next big thing for biodiesel. Besides being cheaper than soybean oil, there appears to be a large abundance of it. Tyson Food Inc. alone produces 4.3 billion pounds of chicken fat annually which if converted could produce 300 million gallons of biodiesel. Mother of god! How many chickens does it take to produce 4,300,000,000lbs of fat?

I didn't get to ride between X-mas and New Years. I went on the Saturday road ride and my legs felt stiff. On Sunday I moto'd with A.K., Stella the Hun, P.S. and others . I was ruined afterwards. I never made it to ring in the New Year. I passed out at 11:00 and although there was alcohol involved, it was not the contributing factor. Miss Nancy wanted to go on a hike on Monday and I obliged. I like hiking trails I would normally have rode. I always see thing I have never seen before. We hiked up behind Cabrillo College on the trail I affectionately refer to as Heart Attack Jr. & Heart Attack which connects to Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. This is what we saw.

Last but not least a mountain lion scratching post!

PEAK SEASON #1

The Race

Singlespeed:
I had a pretty clean start. After the finish line, leaving the pavement on the first little up hill, I bogged down a bit and was passed by several people including Stella. I still had an overlap on Stella going into the next left hand turn, but I knew what was coming and back off just in time as Stella chopped the apex into the corner. Stella would rather eat her first born than concede a corner to me! I passed her back when she bobbled the little log crossing. As we exited the muddy path on the perimeter of grass field I was forced to dismount for the tiny little up onto the grass and Stella passed me for good.

There were three tiny up hill sections on the course that were giving me problems because I was running the biggest possible gear combination that I on my have on my singlespeed; being that the rest of the course was so flat. The one after the S/F line was doable because I could carry a lot of momentum up from the pavement, but I would still have to grind over the top. The other two, up onto the grass and up from the service road, I couldn’t ride consistently during practice and decided to dismount and run during the race. I figured riding the two sections and then bogging down and being forced to dismount and run was slower than just dismounting and running both.

For the next two laps Stella slowly pulled away from me while my teammate Erik Thunstrom slowly reeled me in. After remounting from running up from the service road, Erik caught me. I didn’t think to ill of this as I thought we could work together and try and bring Stella back. Erik went immediately to the front to take a pull and on the way by he gave me grief for not riding the hill up from the service road! We hit the double barriers before the finish line side by side when I heard a Ka-Whack-Thud and I knew immediately that Erik had tripped and crashed over the barriers. I asked the spectators after the barrier if he was all right and they replied in the affirmative.

I rode the almost the whole next lap alone while Erik slowly reeled me in again. By the time we reached the service road he was right behind me. I dismounted and ran up the little hill, remounted and look back over my shoulder to watch Erik ride it. He bogged out at the top and was force to dismount and run it! Erik eventually passed me on the grassy section and I clamped onto his rear wheel and held on for dear life for the next lap.

My body was giving me the signal that I was about to blow. I figured I would throw one last move at Erik before he dropped me. Just before the drop in to the service road I sprinted past Erik. I figured I would be in better shape if I hit the little hill first. Eric, once again gave me grief for dismounting and running. 30 seconds later I blew sky high and Erik rode away from me. I rode the next couple of laps solo and enjoyed the course and the day. With most of the course being so wide open, I could see I was in no danger of being caught from behind. I even got to smile and say “hi” to David Crum, who was a spectator at the little hill after the service road whom I haven’t seen in a while.

Went on a walk with Miss Nancy at 4 mile. I was amazed by the lack of trash at this beach. I used surf here a lot in my teens and 20's and people used to trash the living _hit out of it; keggers and bonfires. I guess since it became part of Wilder State Park things have cleaned up.

Instead, we saw this

and some of these

and watch this

I'm glad I'm not sailing on the Monterey Bay right now!

I wouldn't define myself as a tree hugging environmentalists, but the sights of trash on the beach and redwood trees on the back of logging trucks does sadden my heart. The GF said she wanted to go to a secluded beach up north on Christmas day. We drove up Hwy 1 to Little Laguna, a place I used to surf when I was much younger. In fact, I hadn't set foot on this beach in 20+ years. It still looked remarkable the same, but I was staggered by the amount of trash we saw. There was plastic bits of every type scattered about the high tide mark. It then dawned on me that this refuse had washed up onto the beach from the sea. The trash picture above took us 10 minutes to collect and was a very tiny portion of what was there, but this is all that we could carry. No matter where you are, take a little time out and pick a bit of trash up! Eventually everything ends up in the ocean sooner or later.

Preface:
Yet another race over the hill, which means getting up at the ungodly hour
of 4:30. This particular morning was more difficult than the others as my
girlfriend's company Christmas party was the night before. I ended up
playing bartender for four hours, but in the process I managed not to pour
myself it oblivion and only consumed two glasses of wine. Just when I
thought we were about to make our escape I heard the rallying cry "let's go
to Brady's Yacht Club," which is the neighborhood dive bar. Bugger! To make
a long story short, I managed not to over indulge but we didn't get home
until 01:00. When the alarm went off I was convinced it was a terrible
mistake!
Field General and Dictator for life David Gill arrived on time and we were
off to Coyote Pt, San Mateo for the 5th and final round of the Pilarcitos
BASP that also doubled as Nor. Cal. district championships. Upon arrival we
disemboweled the van and set up camp next to the water front.

The Course:
It had been a couple of years since I have raced here and I had forgotten
how hard this course is. From the beach section, to the grass filled with S
turns, to the uphill section under the eucalyptus, this course just sucks
the life out of you! I can't possibly imagine what it would be like if it
rained!
The Race (Singlespeed):
This race was absolutely brutal. If it hadn't have been for the sight of
Brent Chapman dangling in front of me, I think I would have quit. Needless
to say this was not one of my best races, but I did finish. Afterwards my
body felt like I had been run over by a cement truck.

The Epilogue:
All in all, this was a great event and venue, but two days later I still
feel like I was hit by a cement truck!

After a very exhilarating and yet in the same breath terrifying experience on the track at Hellyer Park, I purchased a cheap track bike. This has nothing to do with the fix gear rage going on right now. It was an impulse buy. I could never see myself charging around town on a fix gear. Although I admire my friends that do, the recent trend of kids riding around on fix gear bikes with their pant legs rolled up, cycling cap ever so slightly askew on their head and handle bars only 16” wide has completely cracked me up! My track bike now resides at work at we go on lunch rides together. I have a nice little route that evolves very light and or no traffic. I really enjoy riding this bike, but I have one really bad habit that has been ingrained into my head since I started riding road bikes 34 years ago: coasting! Coasting, that blessed act of release your momentum that requires virtually no energy at all. I learned on the track that coasting on a track bike can be a near fatal experience! The unconscious act of coasting after finishing a sprint left me riding a nose wheel at 30mph twice and although I managed not to crash, I did leave stains in my shorts! My lunch rides have been eventful free until yesterday when I tried to coast over a set of train tracks. How I managed not to auger mystifies me. It was all blind luck. I must get rid of this unconscious urge to coast!