Cycling Karma (Part 3 - The Good Stuff)

This is the final part of the mini-series. If you missed the first two, start here.

What goes around comes around; and if you survive it twice maybe some good things will happen.

That last part is my addition - based on the experiences I've had the last few weeks.
After some seriously rough days on the bike, my good friend Kyle (aka Lighty McClimberson) and I are finally cashing in on the good Cycling Karma we had built up.

It started 2 weeks ago, when Lighty heard back from a recent job interview. He had applied to work as a Biomechanist for a little company in Waterloo, WI just getting it's feet wet in the cycling business. You may have heard of them, they're called Trek. They had some good news for him, as in: "Hey, how would you like to come work for us, head up this department, and ride your mountain bike every day at lunch at our private trail on the company premises?" I'm pretty sure his response was: "..........." because he was unconscious.

Lighty strikes a mean pose - I think he gives hills the same look before he crushes them

I take full credit for Trek's newest and greatest biomechanist. I had taken Lighty on his first mountain bike ride three summers ago. I'm pretty sure it was my technique and skills that led him to think "Man, there has to be a better way to do this." Hence, the Bio-position. But as you know from reading the first two parts of the series, we've seen our share of miles together since those first few. I've shared my best and worst days on a bike with this guy, and I wish him all the luck in the world at his new job. He's earned it.


 As for me, the past few weeks have been like no other in terms of the amount of cycling good fortune coming my way. Here's the timeline:

Sunday: The Lady (a.k.a. Fast Wife when she's on her bike) and I are driving home after doing some shopping - and by shopping I mean 2 hours of walking around followed by a quick trip to the bike store (my addition) - and we pass my new Mountain Bike team's trailer.

It's hopefully a good sign that our Team Kit is in!:

You should be seeing more of these on a podium near you sometime soon!

 "So what?" You may be saying - But this is only the tip of the iceberg.

Monday: I get the OK from The Lady. I am officially allowed to get a new bike! With some special thanks to Uncle Sam, the good guys at Roll: bikes, and a review by Bicycling that starts like this:  

"[these] bikes fill an important need: justifying a bike purchase to a spouse. ("Sure, it was expensive, but it could have been $8,000....")"

That was the icing on the cake - I am now the proud owner of half of this bike:

My size is shipping in from Cali!

Tuesday: I am fast! So fast that small animals are sacrificing themselves at the sight of my speed - meaning I ran over a squirrel. I've heard some stories about the carnage done to these furry little Kamikazes trying to thread the needle between some bladed aero spokes - those stories don't end well for anybody... (There's a nice picture in this Bike Snob post here.)
Which is why I take the gentlemanly gesture of diving under and not through my wheel just to soften my path as such a good omen.

Hope you made it little buddy.

Wednesday: Just another day. I'm in the dungeon (basement office) when I get a message from my team manager: "You need to check your email." Ok....

Click click click - then this subject line:

Fwd: You are the winner in our Orbea contest on Cyclingnews.com

Holy Crap!! A flurry of messages back and forth - me literally running and jumping in the air in my office (it wasn't pretty - I was a mess).

After having just been given the ok and purchasing half of an awesome bike on Monday - here, just two days later I am presented with this:

Oh, there's a storm brewing alright...

I felt like King Arthur having just pulled Excalibur from the stone. Here was something incredible the cycling gods had bestowed upon me (more specifically, my manager and myself - She had won, but I had convinced her to enter the contest - and to build the bike to my specifications, and in my size - an important distinction). The specs on this thing are astounding. If you want to make yourself jealous, just look here.

I had planned to try some road racing in addition to my MTB commitments this season, but now I have to. I have been given the chance at making a real go at cycling. If I try and fail, the fault will lie only with me.

I'd love to hear some other stories of good or bad Cycling Karma. If you've got one send it my way!
And if you see a bluish-black blur woosh past you - it may be me. ETA on the carbon wonder-bike is 2-6wks. See you out there.

Cycling Karma (Part 2 - Still not so good)

Note: This is Part 2 of a 3 Part Series - If you haven't read the first one you should start here.

The next big ride Lighty McClimberson and I had on the agenda after riding in the Mohican 100 was Pelotonia.

Pelotonia is a big charity ride benefiting cancer research and a great way to do something good for the world (with your bike!) If you live in Ohio you should check it out and sponsor a rider, and if you live in Ohio and own a bike and  like the idea of being awesome you should register as a rider.

Lighty and I had decided to really go for it in Pelotonia and had signed up to ride 180 miles over the course of two days. Not too bad you may say... But we would be riding our first century on day one, and following that up with another 80 miles the next day. Also, having blown the vast majority of the riches from our lucrative graduate student stipends on frivolities like food and heat we would be riding our Mtb's the whole distance. We had managed to scrounge up some smooth tires though, and were hoping to surprise a few "roadies" with our climbing prowess - well Lighty was. I had packed about 75 Gu packs into my jersey and was just hoping to keep up.

The start of the ride was great. Dawn breaks over 6000+ riders and thousands  of supporters. It was a clear summer morning when we set off slowly - parading through downtown Columbus. Lighty and I had positioned ourselves in the "Steady" group (and being old-fashioned had asked the group's father for permission first ...to go steady... the jokes don't get any better...). We were cruising along, smiling people cheering and lining the streets of the city. It really is a great event. We had made it nearly 2 miles when Lighty's rear tire started to hiss at him like an angry goose (if you've never been hissed at by a goose - you should probably get out more).

It was a flat, but we were prepared. We had  the tire off, patched up the tube, and were back in the saddle in only a few minutes. We could tell though that we had slipped back into the "Leisure" group - as the ratio of carbon fiber bits to streamers coming from handlebars and reflectors built into pedals had changed dramatically.

This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as Lighty and I had some fun weaving in and out and passing people, not thinking that we had more than 90 miles to go that day. We were near the edge of town and had caught back up to some people clipped into their pedals (a good sign) when a gun-shot rang out! Well... I thought it was a gun-shot... It turned that Lighty's rear tube had EXPLODED! (I'm not sure what the guy eats to cause so much trouble). Luckily, we were prepared for this as well. We threw in the replacement tube, and started to pump it up. Pssshhh, pssshhh, pshhhh.... BOOM! Another tube blown out! We pulled the tire off again and saw the source of the problem: the wire bead that runs along the circumference of the tire had frayed and had little metal tendrils pointed in every direction. To us, it looked like Medusa and we were frozen like stone. Tubes, yes; but we didn't have a spare tire!

Being tough guys on Mtb's we decided to press on, after all, if Lance could finish Leadville on a flat, Kyle could ride to the first aid station near mile 20. WWLD became our motto. And... We were still passing people. "Thump thump thump thump thump.... 10 to go!!" "....Thump thump thump thump thump.... 5 More!!"

We finally made it and were able to get Kyle a new tire from the guys at Roll: (fo' free! Thanks Gary!)
Some guys from the Trek store pulled up with supplies: "Hey! We've got a tire for you!" (they had passed us earlier on their way back to their shop to get more stuff) "Just got one from the Roll: guys" Lighty said.
"Well pull over and we'll get that off and throw on a good one!!" Said Bart of the Trek Store. We smiled and kept pedaling, happy to have too many people trying to help.
Now we really moving!

Three flats in the first 20 miles had taken a toll on our pace, but it was nice to fly up the hills and pass 20-50 people at a time! And I had decided to suck down my first Gu pack - at least I thought it was a Gu pack when I had bought it. It turned out to be some holy nectar from the gods. Now, I had a few of these before, Lighty had brought some for us when we rode the 100, and they were awful - like concentrated cough syrup. But it turns out that there are Gu packs that combine my love of coffee and bike stuff.

Delicious!

If you eat one of these I guarantee you will run faster, jump higher, and Climb hills faster than Lighty McClimberson (!!!). Things were definitely looking up for us - and then the rains came.

With still more than a quarter of the day's ride to go, it was pouring. We used our hands as makeshift fenders to keep some of the spray out of our eyes. We pedaled on and on. Up hills, down hills. The rain and miles kept coming and coming. Much of this part of the ride is a blur now. I can remember snapshots of road, big climbs, back country gravel roads and the spray from the tires of cars as they would pass us. I remember eating an entire granola bar in one bite, the smell of sweat and rain soaked gloves and the bittersweet feeling of cold rain on burning legs. We would stop at the aid stations to get food and re-fill our water bottles - but we wouldn't stay long, we had to keep pedaling to stay warm. Eventually though, we neared the end. After what Roll: owner Stuart Hunter described as "90 miles with a f*ing time trail at the end." (the last 10 miles were on a flat, meandering, railroad turned bike path that led to the finish). We had done it.

End of the first century. Three flats and torrential rain can't stop us.

But, sadly, the hardship for the day was not over. Rumors were swirling as we were in line to get some dinner. Something terrible had happened. The announcement was made that the evening's festivities were canceled, a fellow rider had been struck and killed crossing an intersection (the intersection had a police cruiser with lights on directing traffic - and the driver did not stop). Dark and foreboding skies set the tone for the evening. I would sleep hard that night, driven into dreamland by my exhausted body, my mind still trying to recover from all I had seen and experienced that day.

We awoke the next morning to set out on the last leg of our ride. We were both surprised how well we felt (in terms of soreness and energy). People were gathering at the start and we joined them.

This start was a little different than the mass exodus of the morning before. We were in the company of serious riders, people who were confident they could go the full distance. Carbon wonderbikes leaned up against rails and park benches while Lighty and I mounted up on our Mtb's. The bike path from the day before became a long snake of a paceline. Our plan to "take it easy" on day two was out the window - there was no room to move over, and people were going only one speed - fast. We had planned to average 15mph over the 80 miles of day two - but we covered the first 10 miles at an average nearer to 25! (if you went "Meh..." to that, try it on a Mtb!).

This day, though, would mark a change in our relationship with the cycling gods. We had paid our dues, and would soon fall into their good graces.

If you look closely, we have just passed team RadioShack.

We would have no major problems on day two. We had some fun outclimbing some "roadies" and got quite a few: "I'm getting passed by guys on mountain bikes!" type of statements. Everyone was supportive and things went generally well for us. We finished the day ahead of our set schedule, crossing the line together for the second time after a day of tough riding.

Me - left, and Kyle (Lighty McClimberson) - right, after 180 miles

We would ride on under the gods good graces until the next year - until we would both be given unmistakable omens of a great season to come. (Part 3)

Note: Pelotonia is a great cause and a great way to do something good on your bike. Join in support at Pelotonia.org. I'll be riding again this year.

Cycling Karma (Part 1 - the Bad)

I'm not a particularly superstitious guy. I generally take the good with the bad, roll with the punches, and other cliche statements.

But the events that have transpired last week have me questioning my "Bike Karma" like never before.

To really do this story justice, it will have to start last year, at the Mohican 100....

(Flashback sequence - blurry, lots of white fog... and we're there)

I had convinced my good friend Kyle (a.k.a. Lighty McClimberson) that we should enter this race - saying things like: "It'll be awesome! We'll spend the whole day on the trail, just takin it easy, keepin the pedals turnin."
But in the back of my mind were thoughts like: "...this race has more climbing than all but one of the stages of the Tour of California..." and "Both Tinker Juarez and Floyd Landis have dropped out of this race in the past - and in good weather."

Oh the weather... The day before the race severe storms ripped through the area, downing trees and swelling rivers. (Not to mention terrifying the poor bastards who camped out overnight in tents). And the race day forecast didn't look any better - Cold and cloudy in the morning, with another round of strong storms scheduled for the afternoon.

Lighty and I saddled up, and started the climb out of town with more than 600 other sets of knobbies. We hit the muddy soup that used to be one of the best ribbons of singletrack in Ohio - and the rains started, slowly at first, then building to a crescendo with the blasts of tornado sirens and trees falling all around you. But that was later...

Big signs marked the course and were helpful in identifying 

poison ivy

Singletrack Soup - I ate my share

The weather wouldn't be our only problem for the day.

Lighty and I had made a pact - finish together or not at all. We had started out great, moving as well as we could given the conditions. We had found a good rhythm and were keeping up and passing a few people. And then:"Cra-Pap!" I hear this loud noise and look back to see Lighty standing beside his bike holding his saddle - the bolt connecting it to the post sheared completely in half.
With no spare (and no multi-tool at this point - our seat bag with all our emergency supplies had been torn off in a river crossing by the rushing water(!!!) ) he tucked the seat into the leg of his bibs and with my shouts of encouragement: "how much did you eat last night!?" we headed off.

Things went pretty well aside from the general cursing at the conditions and in 15 short miles we were at the second aid station where Lighty could get his seat fixed. (Yep - fifteen miles of terrible conditions, climbs, descents, all with no seat other than the one tucked in his pants - that's one tough cookie).

So, with seat fixed and bellies full (I had seen how many PB&Js Kyle had and was worried for his seatpost again) we were off with renewed vigor. The pace was up, and we were making up for lost time. That is, until a small tree lodged itself in Lighty's rear derailleur. We managed to convert it to a single speed - but only in the smallest rear cog (highest gear). But this speed was better than nothing, and with only 30 miles to go we weren't going to let this stop us.

I did my best to chase Lighty up the hills, but my legs weren't having it... I had to suck down a Gu pack with 5 miles to go. In the end though we slogged it out, crossed a river so swollen the trail crew had strung a rope over it so you could pull yourself across, and crossed the finish line.

Me at the Finish - Luckily the last river crossing had cleaned off my legs for my glamor shot

Finishers are handed a Pint glass while they are still on their bikes - and I'll tell you that no beer has ever tasted better.

I sent my future team manager Krista some pictures from the race the next day. This is an excerpt from our convo:

2:02 PM Krista: those pictures look ridiculous

2:03 PM me: yeah! and that's still early on! And only a taste of what we saw

 Krista: thats what kyle said... crazy!

2:04 PM me: yeah! And no picture can capture the feeling of cresting a hill only to see more hill... We had our share of "you've got to be f*ing kidding me" moments :)

 Krista: i can't believe he rode like 15 miles without a seat...

  aww... lol

 me: me either!

2:05 PM Krista: i'm so in awe of you two

 me: his calves had to be spent

  well... we still have lots of room to improve on for next year. First place finished about three hours before us.... :)

2:06 PM Krista: well... hopefully the conditions are better!

2:07 PM me: yeah! couldn't imagine they could get much worse! I'm still waiting for the results to be posted (they have the top 10...) really just to see how many people dropped out

2:08 PM Krista: yeah... wow

2:10 PM so Pelotonia is going to be a piece of cake now... right?

2:12 PM me: haha, yeah! Our tires probably went around twice for every one forward spin! So yeah! Hopefully...

2:13 PM Krista: LOL

2:16 PM me: I guess the results were posted! I missed them!

2:17 PM Kyle and I finished 94th and 95th out of the 203 in the mens 100k

2:18 PM not bad for all the trouble we had

 Krista: nice

2:19 PM wow only 116 finished

2:21 PM me: yeah, quite a few dropped out

6 minutes

2:27 PM me: I like this little excerpt from the write up: "This year's race was no different with soaking rains creating the muddiest conditions in Mohican's eight-year history. Several racers, including Spin Bike Shop owner and former downhill pro, Greg Jackson, claimed that *this year's race was the most difficult thing he had completed in his life.*"

It was a terrible and wonderful experience - less than half of the people who started the race finished.
I'm signed up to do it again this year.

You have to want it...

With the smell of a spent eraser still the air, and the last remains of a third cup of coffee cooling on the windowsill, it is done. The last assignment from a course with no direction, no substance, no cohesiveness - is finished.
As a PhD student I've taken my share of classes; some good, some less than good, and one or two life-alteringly bad in a "what have I gotten myself into" kind of way.

This was my impersonation of my professor: "Here's some homework on things I didn't teach you - your grade will be a reflection of how well I think you are able to find, and teach yourselves, the arbitrary material I choose to cover."- Conway (I do some pretty good impressions)


I told my friend and future team manager: "After working on this hw I'm ready to really buckle down and pedal."

Manager:  You should write him: "Thanks professor Conway... before this class I had no idea how much I wanted to be a professional cyclist."

Man was she right.

It's been said that it takes 10,000 hours of honing your skills to become elite, an expert in your field. And after spending the better part of the last decade in a windowless dungeon grad-student office learning the finer points of burning things and shooting them with laser beams, I can't help but wonder if I've squandered my time. What would my life be like if I had spent my summers riding my bike out in the sunshine? Taking week long trips along sinewy singletrack or climbing mountain passes?

Desire is a finicky thing. Whether you're scaling the alps or pushing the boundaries of human understanding, in the end, you have to want it.