Sort of Ironic

If you know me then you know I love Texas Longhorns football. I am quickly realizing the biggest draw back to relocating to San Francisco is that I will probably not get a single Texas game outside of the Red River Shootout on television.

If you know me then you are probably also aware of my absolute hatred for the Virginia Tech Hokies. I hate VA Tech more than I hate Oklahoma and from a life long Texas fan, that's saying something.

As I am writing this the first nationally televised game of the season is on my television. It's not Texas, they don't play till later and since they scheduled the powerhouse that is FAU I realized that game wouldn't be on anyway. Do I get to watch some PAC 10 no defense, all offense track meet? No. Am I stuck watching some rediculously slow Big 10 game? No. Is there some regionally important match up that I don't understand since I just moved here? No. I get VA Tech vs. ECU. This makes no sense to me as nobody on the west coast can possibly care about this game. I better get some Texas games at some point this season or I'm moving.

Does it Really Matter?

I don't want to be one of those political pessimists but as my morning viewing of the Today Show was interrupted once every hour to "break" the news of John McCain's pick, I started to get annoyed.

The American process for picking a President is a reality T.V. show and nothing more. Before this new season started everybody already had their favorite. If your favorite got voted off the island then you moved on to a new favorite and more than likely you sit in one of two categories. 1. You are going vote along party lines regardless of the person or, 2. You are going to waste your vote and vote Libertarian. Either of these voting tactics is perfectly fine with me as I am completely convinced that voting is actually a waste of time. I also say this as someone that plans on voting. It doesn't make any sense. I know. But outside of my own personal confliction, what I don't understand is why so many people seem to pay so much attention to this part of the campaign. I mean most of us decided months ago who we were going to vote for.

Does Obama delivering an amazing speech at the DNC really make someone sitting on the fence say, "Yeah, that was awesome, he's my guy?" I doubt it. Obama has delivered a ton of great speeches at this point. All of them slightly different, mostly the same, all pretty entertaining. He's a great speaker, but with the exception of W, this is generally at least a minor pre-req for running for office.

McCain picked a woman as his running mate. Big freaking deal. I don't see how this could possibly make any women out there suddenly decide that John McCain is her guy. He likes women, he is married. The woman he picked (I don't remember her name. I also don't care.) is the Governor of Alaska so clearly she is very accomplished. I mean that as a compliment, not as an insult on Alaska. So she seems as good of a choice as any, as well as a good play to combat Obama's unique minority appeal.

I just can't for the life of me see how any of the theatrics at this point really sway anyone in either direction. I love reality T.V. as much as the next person and for me, that's all this Presidential race is, entertainment, that I am doing a poor job of trying to ignore.

I don't want to jinx it!

There's a famous Mark Twain quote that says something like, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." I had heard this quote a few times before moving out but couldn't possibly be bothered to believe it's true. Allow me to take the time to stand corrected. When I first moved to SF I tried my hardest to ignore the fog. Then I started to say things like I liked it. Now I've come to terms with the fact that it pretty much sucks. What was the swing factor? A nice, sunny weekend in southern California.

I finally had a chance to go down and visit my good friends Micah and Emily at their home in Huntington Beach. For all the talk of the OC being plastic, they're probably right. And I'm not sure I really like suburbia or want to live in it, but there is something to be said about having perfect weather on a daily basis. As well as access to beaches where you don't need a sweatshirt and beautiful beach volleyball players by the bunches to stare at.

I flew out of Oakland because it was cheaper. When I got back I was standing on the platform waiting for BART (metro for you east coasters) and had to take my hoodie out of my bag because it was like 66 degrees and the wind was blowing, however, the sun was out! Yesterday too and today is the first day I can think of in a very long time that there wasn't at least morning fog, or the "marine layer" if you want to be fancy about it.

San Francisco is pretty famous for having a beautiful fall season. The Indian Summer they like to call it. I'm really hoping this the beginning of it because I'd like nothing more than to have some sunshine and the option of not wearing a jacket during the day. I'm fine with still wearing one at night.

At the beginning of August I went to a bar with a friend and they had a pizza board sign out front with the message, "It's August. Summer's almost here!" written in chalk. Here's to hoping that the almost actually means now.

Open Mic

A long time ago my mom said I was the funniest person she knew and while that might be a biased opinion, but that's what mother's do. They tell you're the best even if its not the truth.

I've always enjoyed making people laugh and so because of that have always thought about doing stand up. However, the line between being someone who occasionally says something that people laugh at and going on stage and basically telling everyone in the audience, "I think I'm funny and not only that, but I think I'm funny enough to make you laugh," was one I always scared to cross.

However, here I am in this new city. I have friends, but not a ton of them and so one day a random google search of things to do brought up a link to a local comedy club that also teaches stand up classes. They offered a free intro class where you could come and see what it was all about so I did. Then, I pulled out my credit card and signed up.

One of the biggest benefits of this class is that you are gauranteed three nights a week to do open mic. Apparently, even at clubs that host open mics, you still need to have some connections to get on stage. Obviously I'm paying for this open mic time, but a class piggy backs along with it and the people in my class are all just as scared as I am so they're supportive even if they don't have to be. That's worth something in and of itself.

Last night, 8/13, I did my first three minutes of open mic and it was probably the most thrilling and exciting thing I've done in my life. I was so nervous that I drank about half a Nalgene bottle of water during the comic's set before mine. I didn't want to open with "How's everybody doing?" because that seems lame and luckily for me the MC set me up for a quick joke after she the introduction and I got my first laugh. As soon as that happened I really wasn't nervous anymore. I would have never guessed that would happen. People laughed at my punch lines and it really felt less like a bit and more like just talking. Unfortunately, I finished my last joke before they even turned on the light letting me know I had a minute left. I sort of froze, made the joke that I was now completely out of shit to say decided I'd just do what I told a friend I'd do in this case. I turned to the hottest girl in the room and promptly hit on her to fill the rest of the time. This made people laugh too, but probably for other reasons. At least they were laughing.

I'm so stoked about how it went I can't wait to do it again. In fact I'm going to get back up for open mics on Friday and Saturday night. Go me!

I love the Olympics

I love the Olympics for a few reasons.

From an emotional aspect I understand on a much smaller scale what these athletes go through in training for an event that ends in a very short period of time. I, by no means, think of myself as Olympic caliber. Nor do I claim that the races I poured myself into were nearly as important for so many reasons as the Olympics. But, if anybody has fully dedicated themselves to a physical goal and then showed up at the start line to leave everything they have on the race course, then I believe we can at least identify with the heartbreak and triumph the Olympic athletes must feel.

During the Bush administration I don't know a lot of people who are overly proud of being American. We have to be seen by most of the world as arrogant, pretentious, above the law, hypocrites. I don't want to get into my own beliefs of our occupation in Iraq, but the Olympics are as much a political event as they are athletic. The Olympics make me proud to be American for all the right reasons. Last night's 4x100 freestyle relay is a perfect example. American swimming was not the favorites entering the event. The French team had made public comments to the press about "smashing" the Americans. There was no vocal response from the American swimmers. They simply used the French comments as motivation and swam the collective race of their lives. Out touching the French by less time than it takes to blink an eye and bringing the world record down by four seconds. The picture is now famous and being used by every media outlet, but as Michael Phelps and the rest of the relay team scream in triumph you can't help but feel the elation and pride that is pumping through their veins. Regardless of whether you're a fan of swimming, that moment, that picture of victory, has to do something to you. Like every Olympics it was one of those moments that brought tears to my eyes and made me proud to be American.

Does anybody remember the Dream Team? A bunch of NBA legends all put on the same uniform and went out and dominated the world. They didn't even call a legitimate time out the entire Olympics. Since the Dream Team USA basketball has been a major dissappointment. Basketball is our sport and there is no real reason that we don't win every year. Well, the reasons we haven't won in the past are obvious, but it finally looks like we have guys who take the responsibility of representing our country seriously and want to return with the right color hanging around their necks. The opening game against China was a show of pure domination. One of the highlights that stands out to me is Labron James driving between two Chinese defenders. Both men tried to close the seam Labron was driving through and he simply muscled his way through both of them. He finished the play with a dunk, but that's just to be expected. Getting through both of those men on pure strength and desire makes me feel like these guys are serious. There is no reason we should lose this Olympics.

I could go on an on about different events but I'm getting tired of typing so I'm going to finish this with short statements about some thoughts I won't bother to finish.

- I don't understand why gymnastics gets so much tv time. It's impressive what they do, but the highlights would do just fine.
- Does anyone else think its weird that there are equestrian events? To me, this is the one sport in the Olympics where money makes the most difference. And, its not like the horses give a shit.
- Did anybody see where good old W slapped Misty May on the lower back as she stuck her ass out at him? He's an awful president but I'd love to go to happy hour with the guy. I bet he's got some pretty awesome stories.
- Why are badminton or ping pong sports?
- Can't wait till we start dominating the Track and Field games. Well, at least everything under a mile.
- For all of the insanely designed cycling kits in a pro peloton I'm always surprised at how plain the Olympic kits are for each team. Every country's kit looks like someone went to Performance, bought a bunch of blank jerseys and ironed USA onto the chest.
- At what point in your childhood do you decide that you want to be a fencer? As a kid, isn't the whole idea of playing with swords based on the factor that they cut things?
- So far there's only been one positive drug test. Either the doctors have invented new drugs that aren't detectable or people really are starting to race clean. Either way, it's pretty impressive!

That is all.

Waiting on Indian Food to be Delivered

As I sit here for my dinner to be delivered I figured I could write a very quick entry that will not tell you anything very important about whats going on in my life.

Today was the last day of camp. It's definitely a bitter sweet feeling. I really enjoyed the last seven weeks, both the good and the bad. It wasn't an easy job. The days were long and the pay is, well, the pay is what you get paid when you teach kids. For all the times that I had to instill the fear into some kid of doing something I specifically told him/her not to do five seconds before there was a camper that would come into my room after being checked out by their parents to give me a hug and say bye. Or, a parent during check out would say something like, "Oh, you're Landall. You have no idea how many times we've heard your name at home. Our child really enjoys your class," and you suddenly forget all the frustrations of that day. Outside of the campers I made some good friends. Some of those friendships will inevitably fade, but I'm sure a few will continue on and for a new guy in a new city, that's a big plus from my experience.

--

Just over a week ago I went to a comedy club that has stand up classes for an info session. I signed up because I thought it'd be fun and secretly stand up comedy is something I've always wanted to do. I don't know if I'm funny enough to make people laugh on stage. My mom said one time that I'm the funniest person she knows and so if nothing else, she'll laugh. I've got a notebook full of jokes as I was suddenly motivated to start writing things down. I think this upcoming Wednesday I am going to get on stage for my first open mic. It'll be 3 minutes. Hopefully I don't cry.

--



The mustache is gone. I didn't shave it for three weeks and this morning before camp I shaved everything else. I think my previous prediction of the mustache not being a good look for me is pretty obvious after three weeks of growth. While about 90% of the staff at camp made of it, 90% of the campers thought it was so funny that they wanted to draw mustaches on all of their projects for the past three weeks. Rockets, parachutes, mars rovers and terrains were all covered with hand drawn mustaches that seemed to give them extra powers to the kids. It least it got a few laughs.

--

If you're reading this, I miss you. If I don't know you, that might be awkward.

Two Month Review of San Francisco

San Francisco has been my home for just a bit over two months and for some reason that makes me feel like I should comment on my experience thus far.

I like this city and about 65% of the people I’ve met who live here. 65% might not seem like a lot, but trust me, that’s a pretty high percentage for me. People generally annoy me, especially if I feel like I’ve met their personality before. So, with that said, 65% is pretty stinking high. And, it’s also a statistic that is not accompanied by any sort of actual data or math. Go figure.

Before moving here people consistently commented on how cold it is in SF. I always dismissed these comments for either my own personal need to believe that SF was perfect in every facet or because a temperate climate seemed like a great escape from the extremes of the east coast which I grew to pretty much loathe. Visiting SF the first time in late September gave me the impression that the Indian summer I experienced then was how it is all the time. I was warned, by people that live here, that the weather I experienced was not what I should expect on a daily basis and again, I internally dismissed their warnings. What I have discovered is that the sun hardly ever shines in SF during the summer. Last night I was at a bar and the sign out front read, “It’s August, summers almost here!” This sign made me laugh because it’s true. I don’t necessarily dislike the fog that is a staple of life here, but, I do miss the sun, and the option to just wear a polo shirt and not a jacket. I will comment on this again in February when it’s probably the same temperature as it is now, and I’ll be so stoked that I am not standing on a street corner in DC waiting for the bus in 30 degrees with a 20mph wind. Though, it’s pretty windy here.

The cycling here is pretty great. No shortage of climbing. The cyclists are nicer than east coasters, though, all the odd things still sort of hold true. I had to ride with this group on Saturdays three times before half the people acknowledged me. The other half introduced themselves on the first ride. That was a pleasant surprise.

I have yet to go on a date, but I really haven’t met many single girls. Also, due to my lack of friend base as well as early morning weekend cycling schedule I haven’t gone out that much. Sometimes I wonder if I need to chose between cycling and dating, but part of me hopes that the two will work themselves together somehow. But, since most of the ladies I meet on rides are all mid-30s as is most of the cycling community, that doesn’t seem like it will happen. I suppose most normal 26 year olds are at bars or parties on Friday and Saturday nights, not going to bed early so they can get into group rides at 8:30am the following day. Of, all the girls I’ve met in SF so far I’ve only found one that I’d say I have a real amount of interest in. If you guessed she’s unavailable, you’re right. That seems to be the way it goes.

I can’t think of anything else to comment on.

Experimentation by Mustache

Based on nothing more than public badgering by my boss I decided to grow a mustache. I can’t decide if I look dirty, like someone seconds away from being busted on To Catch a Predator or my father. Either way, this is not a look I think is going to work out in the long term. I was sort of jokingly inspired by Dave Zabriskie’s stache but I don’t think I can go around looking like someone driving a pedi-van for long enough for it to get to that sort of glory.


Note on growth time: This is about a weeks worth of not shaving. Given the prospects of making out with anyone are so slim right now I may give it another week. I have to at least keep it through tomorrow so my boss can see it.

And yes. This is pretty much what I do with my spare time. I think everyone can agree that this is not really a good look for me.

My thoughts exactly

Since I have a lot of non cycling friends and just about the only thing they know or hear about cycling has to do with either, Lance Armstrong, doping or the question of whether or not Lance doped, I am often answering questions about the state of doping in cycling. I am far from an expert on this matter so I always lead with a disclaimer that says just that.

I often wrestle with this topic because I can’t view it from a simple angle. Cycling for a very long time was dominated by dopers because the drugs were so far ahead of the tests it was literally impossible to get caught. In my opinion when you are a young pro entering the professional peloton during this era, if you want to compete, you dope. If you don’t, you don’t compete and therefore making an irresponsible economic decision if this is the way you want to make your living. This line of logic has always made it very hard for me to fault cyclist, or any professional athlete for doping. Given the same scenario I’m pretty sure I’d dope 99 out of 100 times I had to make that choice.

In today’s modern peloton there is a huge fight against doping, which I think all in all is a good thing. I’d rather look at a pros output and data from a stage and compare it to my own and know that this guy is riding clean. Clearly his numbers will still be astronomically higher than mine, but its still sort of fun. A few teams are running independent drug testing throughout the season that seems to be working well. None of their guys are testing positive anywhere and I guess we should assume everybody is innocent until proven guilty.

However, I still think we’d be foolish to assume that every cyclist is now riding clean just because it seems to be the thing to do. This past week this year’s Tour de France had its first positive dope test by a big name that actually mattered. The following is an article that Bill Strickland posted on his blog, Sitting In, as a response to the Ricco positive. He sums it up about 100xs better than I ever could. I guess that’s why he gets paid to write and I don’t. Hopefully for any of my non-cycling friends, this insight lends a bit of insight as to why its always so hard for me to answer your doping related questions.

Of Course He Was Doping

If you were surprised by Ricardo Ricco, you had to work hard to do it. And if you don't appreciate him, you're missing the point.

by Bill Strickland

I think it’s great that Riccardo Ricco shot himself so full of the new generation of EPO that he lost all sense and loosed those heartbreakingly ridiculous attacks that won him Stages 6 and 9.

Those of us who witnessed those exploits and didn’t know that Ricco was doping had either never watched a Tour de France before, or had somehow found a way to sustain an admirably willful ignorance (which I guess arises from a kind of hope as sweet and doomed as a puppy love crush, or from the utopian delusion that we can somehow rewind the course of modern life to free ourselves from its scourges).

I mean, Ricco was, literally, unbelievable, the way he was riding those mountains, his hands down in the drops, sprinting away from the best climbers in the world, up out of the saddle and pouncing on the steepness of the grade whenever his pace slacked, and the way he threw his arms in the air at the line each time, as if presenting himself to us rather than celebrating.

The man was stuffed with dope, and at this point in the life of professional bike racing — in the life of our culture — I think we need to stop pretending we’re outraged. Remember when we, as a society, could still be surprised by the antics of the cast of the Real World, or Survivor, or Big Brother, or American Idol (or our government)? We no longer tune in to reality shows to be shocked by alcoholics, or racism, or threesomes or whatever we might consider taboo; we watch, if we do at all, to see how the drama will unfold this time, with this group, with all the past seasons as context for participants as well as spectators.

Look: We all knew, at least those of us who wanted to, that Ricco was so juiced it was running out of his ears. And thanks to the new policy that lets the dope-control program target suspicious riders (which replaced the useless random tests), as well as the willingness of sponsors to break their deals and take back their cash, we’re finally past the point where the cheaters more or less get away with it; the 1990s and the first years of this century made for unsatisfying sport not because people cheated but because the cheaters often won — a fundamental difference that seems to make a lot of difference to us, as if we humans simply aren’t built to tolerate unfair victory, no matter if the arena is a backgammon board or a bike race.

The question wasn’t if Ricco was doping, but how his story would play out — when he would get caught, what he would do then, what kind of havoc he might wreak to the GC before he got busted. . . For me, the dopers have become part of the theater of the Tour de France, another subplot to the drama that — I’m just going to go ahead and say this — adds to my enjoyment.

I like listening to Amy Winehouse more because she actually did go to rehab. I like Jimi Hendrix more because he had so much talent he just couldn’t live with it. A Confederacy of Dunces is better because John Kennedy Toole killed himself, just the way the last pages of For Whom the Bell Tolls are so damn good because Hemingway eventually went to pieces just like Robert Jordan. I’m not saying it’s okay or right or necessary or even worth it that those people, or anyone, suffer and live in pain. I’m just being honest about my belief that, at least sometimes, the creator’s life can enrich the art – or the sport.

Because I felt sure Ricco would get caught, I felt free to enjoy his performance. He was beautiful when he rode, and he was doomed, and he carried around a picture of Marco Pantani. I love the quote he gave, after he won Stage 9: “I was impressive, I went very fast.” It reminded me of a stoner saying, “I’m so high,” as if he, too, had become a spectator to the feats of his own body, as if he were standing outside of himself somehow and couldn’t hold back his own wonder at what was happening.

What part of Ricco knew he was going to get caught? What was it like to live inside that knowledge? How does it feel to win in shame? Or to bury the shame? Is it worth the loss of the thing you do best in life, the thing you were born to do, to know how it feels to ride like an angel just once? And what about Manuel Beltran, at the end of a long career, with what hope, desperation, desire did he stare into the needle?

The dopers are never going to go completely away. Not ever. But now that we can catch them (and now that a clean guy is going to win) they’ve become more interesting to me. I never wanted them to triumph, but I don’t want them to vanish, either. The sport, the Tour, the world is richer thanks to screwed-up people.

Definitely in the Pain Locker

I am probably one of the most boring 26 year old single guys on the planet. Instead of going out with friends on a Friday night, drinking a ton of booze and trying to hook up with girls like a normal person of my demographic, I go to bed at 10pm to wake up early enough to catch a brutal group ride at 8:30am the next morning. Yes, I know, I am lame.

After showing up to the ride and sort of awkwardly sitting around while everybody else has conversations and pretty much ignores me (however, two people did smile, so I knew it was ok for me to be there) we finally hit the road. These rides are sort of dangerous for me because if I get dropped, I have no idea where I am in order to get home. The first hour or so of the ride this past Saturday was completely pedestrian. People were chatting it up and we hardly broke 20mph. We went over the first climb as a group and I didn’t lose a single place so I saw this as a great sign and was pretty confident that maybe I’m actually gaining some fitness. About another 10 minutes down the road my confidence would be thrown off the side of the next mountain.

Like most group rides there is no explanation for how the people at the front decide to ride. Some climbs they go over nice and easy, some of them they attack like there is prize money at the top. Unfortunately for me, at the bottom of the second climb, the guys at the front all decided to show everyone else just how strong they are. As the front half of the group started to move away I put in a huge effort to stay on wheels. This lasted for about a minute until I couldn’t keep that up any longer and a few folks came around me. I looked over my shoulder to see if I was now the last one on the road and much to my surprise I wasn’t. There was a small group of six that had been spit out before me so I did the stupid thing and kept riding hard over the climb instead of sitting up and waiting for them. I apparently, have never learned anything from Bob Roll while watching Tour stages on versus.

I make it over the climb by myself and can see a small group about two turns ahead on the descent. Again, I make a stupid decision and decide to chase like hell down the descent to try and catch back on. For the fellow cyclist (all one or two of you) reading this you understand why these decisions were both stupid. For those other people (probably my parents), it’s a bad move because you are all alone. And all alone on a bike means you work twice as hard to do anything. About half way down I look over my shoulder and see a pink jersey catching me. At this point I make a good decision and wait for this guy to catch me. And, when he does catch me, he sits on my wheel which would lead one to believe he wants to work together to catch the group ahead.

Off the decent and we’re hammering about 30mph to try and bring that group back. They are always in sight but the gap doesn’t seem to be dropping any. I ignore my heart rate monitor as its telling me death is coming soon and try and focus on how great it’ll be to have another person in front of me. I pull for about a minute (which is a huge pull) and then flick my elbow for this guy to come around and help out. He doesn’t move. I get pissed so I try and drop him. This does not work. After about another minute I sit up and wave him around me with my right hand. He comes around and our speed drops by 3mph right away. I get pissed again. I sit on him for long enough to recover and then decide if we’re bringing those guys back I’m going to be the one to do it and Mr. Pink jersey is going to sit in for the ride. He’s clearly smarter than I am, but it doesn’t make me hate him any less at the time.

After I come back around him I put the hammer down again and we’re moving along between 28-30 depending if there’s a little dip in the road or not. Oddly enough, I don’t see the guys up ahead, but there is a big right hand turn that looks like its leads to another descent so I’m assuming they just went around that bend while my head was down. Immediately before that bend is a cross road and there are three guys on bikes at the intersection, but I don’t recognize any of their bikes or jerseys from our group. As I go through this intersection I put my head back down and realize I don’t see the shadow of pink jersey and I think I dropped him. This makes me smile. I take a peak over my shoulder, don’t see him at all, and realize a few things. First, the reason I didn’t see the guys up ahead is because the took that right at the intersection. Second, that asshole knew it and didn’t tell me when I was clearly not slowing down to take the turn. This makes me declare this guy as my sole nemesis in life.

There was still another group of four or five behind us and so after getting myself slowed and back to that turn they are just just ahead of me. I catch them on the climb up and ride with them to some place in the middle of nowhere that has port-a-potties so everybody stops to regroup. After getting off my bike to pee Mr. Pink jersey walks up and reintroduces himself like we’re old friends (apparently we rode out of Stinson beach together a few weeks ago. I don’t remember). I want to say something extremely sarcastic but instead I realize I don’t know anybody here and am in no position to call people out for anything, regardless of how useless they are. I say the most unauthentic “nice to meet you” of my life and go pee.

The rest of the ride was pretty normal. We went to this cool little bakery at Point Reyes where apparently every cyclist in California goes on rides as there were literally a 100 bikes scattered about this little place. From there a group of five of us took an easier way home which I was thankful for. Though, I’m learning that easier out here usually just means it’s shorter, but you still have to get over a climb or two.

The ride ended up being about 80 miles and close to 5 hours because of all the climbing, which goes to show that I do not believe in periodization for myself. I can write it for anybody else all day and preach the importance but I’m just not patient enough to deal with it. Due to this my legs are totally fried and extremely sore today. Oh well, they’ll be fine by Tuesday when I ride again. I guess no matter how much I learn about probably training plans I’ll continue to do the opposite for myself. I guess if I didn’t sort of like the pain I wouldn’t bother.

climbing repeats and gear ratios

Disclaimer: The following post uses some cycling geek jargon. Consider yourself warned.

There is nothing quite like getting dropped to motivate your ass to get out and ride. I took Monday off because I wanted to go the bar with some friends from work instead of riding. Point here, I’m motivated, but I still like beer!

Just across the Golden Gate Bridge there is a little tourist road that heads up a mountain. This area is referred to as the Marin Headlands. It’s in Marin county and I guess mountains that touch the ocean are called headlands? Whatever, the point is I finally have some sustained climbs that are super close to me and I can go up hill as often as I want.

Quickly after moving here I realized that I needed to switch to a compact front crankset because I was climbing the headlands at about 55rpm. Clearly way too low! I opted out of changing anything on the back. Partly because I didn’t want to buy a new cassette, partly because I’m stubborn and was convinced that 34x23 would be fine. My next trip to the headlands I was surprised to find that on some of the steeper sections I was still averaging about 65rpms, but as I’ve been hitting these climbs things have been getting better.

Today I did 4 repeats up the back climb (not sure what its actually called, I may name it myself soon though) at the headlands. It’s about a 6 min effort (not all out), 6 switch backs and 2 pretty steep sections where I tend to get out of the saddle to keep the rpms up. As I was doing these repeats today I was determined to not be a total Fred and hit the first one so hard I couldn’t get through the last one in anywhere close to the same time and I guess I’m starting to learn to manage my effort because I actually rode 3 and 4 faster than 1 and 2, a small, but big accomplishment for me! My rpms were staying around 75 and in certain sections I was able to kick it up over 80 which was really encouraging as it clearly means I’m getting stronger. I’ve still been wrestling with changing the cassette out for an 11-26 but today made me think that maybe another month and I’ll be able to spin up most of these climbs on the 23. I guess time will tell.

Oh, and on a side note I’m also getting much better at descending, however, it still scares the shit out of me almost every time. If any of you guys make it out to SF and bring your bikes I’ll take you down a descent that was clearly inspired by a roller coaster. Its so steep that when you’re going down the first section all you can see is edge of the cliff and the ocean below. You can’t see the horizon without looking up. Which, if you did look up you might end up in the ocean because the 90 degree right hand turn does not seem to be forgiving. I want to pretend like I like it, but that’d be a lie. It’s a necessary evil to get to another part of a ride I’ve been doing. The insane winds coming off the ocean in the late afternoon don’t help matters either.

So, basically, I had a good day on the bike. Hopefully I can find some training partners in the near future and get myself scheduled for another crit maybe mid August. I should be fit by then!?

Vacaville Gran Prix 2008

The scene at the parking lot of the Gold’s Gym where we checked in at the race was exactly what every bike racer has come to expect. I was lucky and found a spot as it was already pretty full. As I walked over to the check in tent I felt the stares of all the other guys pumping air into the tires. Since I was still wearing jeans and a tshirt this first sizing up wouldn’t be the last.

The lady at the check in tent was delightful as she looked me up and down as if she’d be racing me later, then barked out, “Category?” After sorting all of this out I asked her another question, which was apparently too dumb for her to answer, so I walked back to my car. The day was most definitely off to a good start!

Once back at my car I started getting changed as I had about 40 minutes before the start of my race. There were two guys parked next to me that looked at me, my bike and then sort of grunted in my general direction. This was odd as it meant they approved of my being there. I honestly didn’t know what to do so I said “good morning” like I would if I were passing someone walking down the street. I don’t know what I was thinking, this immediately made them go back to whatever they were doing with their bikes, ignoring me.

I “warmed up” on the course because basically I’m far too lazy to carry my rollers to my car at 5:30am. And I put warmed up in quotes because after three laps I was no more warm than when my alarm went off. I’ve never really understood the whole warm up process. I’m sure its effective as professionals take it very seriously, but I don’t know, I just always seem to wish I had that bit of energy back if it gets tough later on. Plus, I assumed the first couple laps would be pretty pedestrian and I could use those to warm up. This, as I will get to later, was an incorrect assumption.

Starting to get pretty bored with these laps of the course I pulled over and asked one of the course marshals if we’d have a neutral lap or if we were racing from the gun. She didn’t know, but lucky for me a parent of one of the junior racers, who apparently thinks that having Jon B. styled facial hair is cool, over heard and made fun of me for caring about such a stupid question. Bike racing is full of such nice and caring people!

My concern going into the race was that I’d be crashed out by someone else. The good news from the day is this did not happen. Mainly this did not happen because I was only around the other sixty-two riders who started for about three laps. I never would have guessed that I couldn’t sit in for the race, but this does go to prove that I need to actually train a bit to race my bike.

When the start bell rang I was fully expecting everyone to roll away, clip in, and ride pretty casually for the first couple turns, this, as I alluded to before is not the way the race started. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen BMX racing but basically the start of a BMX race is pretty much the most important part of the whole thing. There is generally some sort of straight away that runs straight into the first corner. The racers go full out into the this turn so they can get the “whole shot” and take the lead. Apparently, the group of guys I was racing with today thought the finish line was on the other side of that first corner. By the time I got my right foot clipped in there was already a gap between myself and the wheel in front of me. I was literally racing for about 4 seconds before I had to close down a gap. This was not a good sign.

One of the guys lined up next to me at the start had lots of stories of past races and from listening to them I determined he’d probably be a good set of wheels to follow so that was my plan. Somewhere in the first lap he came by me so I wrestled some other guy off his wheel so I could take my place. I sat there for about another lap until he decided he wanted to move up about 10 places in one turn. When he did this I was amazed at how easily he did it and then I was amazed at how filling that bike length of a hole that was left in front of me just wasn’t happening. That was right about the beginning of the end for me. A few other guys came around me, a few others were annoyed that I seemed to be soft pedaling, which I wasn’t. Once I was fully dropped I decided I’d just ride as hard as I could until they either lapped me or it was over. I rode about another 7 laps or so before the official pulled me off the course. She thanked me for cooperating. I thanked her for putting an end to the pain. Apparently this was hilarious as a lady off to the side laughed at the joke. Or at me. Who really knows.

Basically the things I learned from this race are as follows:
- I am fat and need to get into shape.
- It wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it’d be. (Keep in mind I was only in it for a brief bit.)
- I should start at the front. Even though those guys are racing faster the speed yo-yos less.
- Did I mention get into shape?
- I need to think of more cycling related jokes so that if I do get dropped again I have something quick to say as I ride by the people along the course who awkwardly try to give you encouragement.

And, apparently this race was some championship of some series so I'm also going to blame the speed on that. I needed at least one excuse right!?

Starting back up on the blog

I have decided to enter the blogging world once again. As most of you know I recently moved to San Francisco, CA and I’m finding it sort of difficult to keep in touch with all of my old friends. This is mainly due to the fact that I don’t really call people, but I hate phones so I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Instead of using the blog as a place to post tons of introspective pieces or commentary on pop culture (which may occasionally happen) I plan to use it as a more of, “here are the weird things going on in my life” type of blog.

For example, tomorrow, 7/6, I am taking the plunge and toeing the line in my first bike race. I’ve been pretty much riding bikes for four years but ironically enough have never actually raced my bike in anything other than a time trial. This is because of a few factors, but mainly because I’ve always felt like I pretty much knew where I stood amongst the cyclist wherever I was living. Anyone who’s ever gone on a group bike ride knows that it inevitably turns into a few people’s key race of the week. Due to this mentality there wasn’t really much of a question as to where I’d finish a race lined up against those in the ride.

However, recently I decided that I want to start actually racing my bike. And while I’m extremely excited about seeing where I match up with people and then hopefully improving on those results, I’m probably more nervous about this than anything I’ve done in a really long time. While I’m not in the best shape right now I’m hoping to just sit in and get some experience. I have no misconceptions about out sprinting people right now, or ever really. The fear of being crashed out of the race because of someone else is far more nerve racking than the possibility of getting dropped.

You see in the world of amateur cycling everyone starts in category 5. And while this makes the most sense, for those of us who have been riding a while and are pretty good bike handlers, it means you’re going to shoulder to shoulder with people who just got on bikes, have huge engines, but no clue who to ride. I fully expect to get chopped in turns as people fail the hold their own line and encroach onto mine. I’m really hoping I find a good set of wheels to follow and make it through unscathed. Check back tomorrow and hopefully I’ll have some good, crash free news to report.