For the moment, I have a new favorite blog, Belgium Kneewarmers. While I still cling to a Grant Peterson-esque vision of what a bike should be, I can’t help but dream about having a nice all-around road bike (hmmm, like this?) that I can ride quickly through the hills across the river. Maybe I’ll build up the old Cannondale road frame collecting dust in the basement….
And this video of the finish of the 1985 Paris-Roubaix is priceless. Watch it. And keep in mind that these guys were seven and half hours (and over 150 miles) into the race, and still cranking hard. In the cold and mud. Oh, and yeah, that’s Greg Lemond, taking it to Sean Kelly and managing 4th place. Yeah, Lance Armstrong won four more Tours than Lemond, but he avoided the Classics like the Plague. Lemond took 4th, in hideous (read: normal) conditions, the first time he finished the race. Awesome.
Posted on 25 May 2007
We spent yesterday at the New River Gorge, climbing with an old friend who had recently moved back to the east from Oregon. We also camped for the first time with both of the boys (an adventure itself, given that we arrived at the campground around 10:00 PM). I have, in the past few years, settled into a particular cycle in the week preceding a planned trip to the New: first, excitement with the thought of climbing and being outside, then apprehension as the weekend approaches due to the amount of energy and patience that such a trip entails, then dread as the day arrives and we are, as usual, horribly behind the schedule we have set for ourselves. And this was true again this weekend. We left a party on Sunday afternoon far too late, and we paid for it that night. But, when our friend arrived at the campground (at a lovely 7:00 AM), that was all behind us. I was genuinely excited to climb that day, and getting such an early start only stoked the fire.
An advantage of being so far removed from my climbing-centric lifestyle is that I don’t care much what I climb, or how I climb it. After being obsessed with performance and grades for many years (too many, really), I can thoroughly enjoy a day at the crags, falling up classic climbs regardless of their difficulty. Monday was no different. We went to Butcher’s Branch, a comfort zone for us. I wonder how many times we’ve done the warm-up 5.10s, since it’s been 14 years since we started climbing together. Despite having not climbed for well over a month, the warm-up feels good, and easy. On to bigger and better things. I hang the quickdraws on Bicycle Club, a 5.12a just a few routes to the right, for our old friend. This feels harder (as it should), and I hang a few times, pumped the entire time. The smile never leaves my face. From there, it’s on to Lost Souls, another 12a, the first I ever did. Like the warm-up, I’ve probably done the route hundreds of times. And it’s still good fun. I can’t manage to do it cleanly (in fact, I nearly pitch off the final move to the anchor the first time up), even on my second try, but again, it’s okay. In fact, it’s almost better that way. I’m beginning to feel like a climber again. I doubt that I will ever find the motivation that brought me to the gym four and five days a week, but I’m slowly finding my way back.
Posted on 24 May 2007
A friend joked the other day that the Floyd Landis doping hearing needed some sort of sex scandal in order to get more play in the media. Well, there you have it. Of course, this isn’t what Aaron was thinking of, but not only did we get a crazy admission by former Tour de France and world champ Greg Lemod (he was sexually abused as a child), Landis’ business manager apparently threatened Lemond the evening before he testified. Incredible. Until this point, I have thought that Landis may well just be innocent, but if that is the case, why would a Landis associate attempt to intimidate Lemod? Lemond has often seemed to be the grumpy old man, constantly badgering Lance Armstrong during his more successful years, but given that Landis has no where near the success as either Lemond or Armstrong, why would he bother?
Posted on 18 May 2007
Ivan Basso, in an effort to save his own cycling skin, confessed to the Italian Olympic Committee that, yes, he was involved with Eufemiano Fuentes, the Spanish doctor at the center of the Operación Puerto doping scandal. Of course, Basso didn’t admit to actually doping, only the intention to dope. That’s right–Basso was clean when he obliterated the field at last year’s Giro. His intention was to dope in preparation for the Tour de France, but apparently he never got around to it.
That sound you hear? That’s my mind being boggled.
First, Basso is asking that he be pardoned for this transgression since he didn’t actually cheat. Second, members of the press and the peleton are hailing Basso as some sort of hero for stepping forward, as if they’ve forgotten that he denied any involvement with Feuntes for nearly a year. I’m not sure which statement is more ridiculous. At this point, I find it difficult to care at all professional cycling. Two of last year’s three Grand Tour winners are fighting doping charges, and now, Alejandro Valverde, last year’s ProTour winner, has been implicated with Feuntes as well. Tyler Hamilton, fresh off a two year suspension for doping, is also under investigation. Jan Ullrich rode off into the sunset as a doper. Is anyone clean? Certainly, with the allegations against Armstrong and Landis, we could claim a bias against successful Americans, but with three of the Continent’s brightest stars under investigation, the sport clearly has a problem.
Posted on 9 May 2007
I argued with myself all week about the bicycle choice for this ride. I really wanted to ride the fixed gear, but a nagging voice in my head kept saying “you’ll regret it.” Add to that not having a proper set of handlebars for such a ride (the Promenade are quite comfortable for commuting, but I’m sure they would be limited over 20 miles), and I dusted off the Cannondale and coasted to the start at Beleza. At 9:10am, 26 hardy souls were ready to begin. It was certainly a diverse bunch, with the usual compliment of lycra-clad roadies on their sub 18 pound bikes, a few touring/BOB-ish bikes (including a full custom Rivendell), several old ten speeds, a fixed gear, and a recumbent. After a brief course review and a word of encouragement, I sent everyone on their way.
My group, composed of Josh, Eric, and a youngster named Wes, waited around a bit for any stragglers, then set out. I quietly wondered if I had a mistake with my choice of partners, given that the combined weight of their bikes (a Trek Madone, a titanium Mongoose, and a high-end Cannondale) was probably slightly less than that of my Cannondale. I’m sure I was a curious sight, with my cruiser bars, saddlebag, tennis shoes, and cut-offs, in a pace line with a group of roadies. Our pace through the city was brisk, but not unreasonable. Perhaps it would all work out.
Or not.
Once into the rollers above Fox Chapel, I was yo-yoing off the back of the group. They were kind enough to allow me to keep in touch, however, but I knew the pace would eventually become problematic. At this point, we had picked up, and then shortly thereafter, dropped several people that had started at least 10 minutes before us. Once on Saxonsburg, Eric and Wes gapped Josh and myself, and then slowly, Josh left me behind. I never lost sight of Josh, and we re-grouped at a food/drink/bathroom stop at a gas station just before the turn on Logan.
Here we picked up Dan, the lone fixed gear rider. He was pushing 47×17. Good grief. And to think I was worried about 42×16 when I was considering the Surly. The advantage of the fixed gear was obvious once we hit the rollers on Logan–he had no choice but to power through the hills, and the momentum carried him up and over with less effort. Soon enough we were off Logan and on the Red Belt, the longest single stretch on the ride. More shallow rollers, more slipping off the back. At this point, Wes and Eric were off the front, and gone for good (at least until the controle in Sewickley), and Josh was steadily moving ahead. Dan peeled off to re-connect with another group, but it was not the last we had seen of him.
As we approached the turnpike, Josh and I stopped at a 7-11 for a Gatorade break. I felt pretty OK. My back was a bit stiff, but otherwise no pain anywhere. The legs felt pretty good. Our pace, even without Eric and Wes, was still high (for me)–just a bit over 15mph. I still wondered how I might feel on the climb over Sewickley Heights. From this point, we would mostly be rolling in a valley, with no major climbs. The relief, once we started again, was welcome, but I knew what was ahead. As we crossed Route 19 and slipped under Route 79, we found ourselves on a pleasant false flat, truly the calm before the storm. We dawdled for a bit at the turn on Sewickley Creek Road (this, like most out in the “country” was unmarked. The local authorities must assume that if you’re this far out, you know where you are), and I wondered if some folks might miss this turn. The mileage on the Bikely cue sheet was dead-on, at least according to Josh’s computer. At least the Red Belt would drop anyone on the far end of Beaver Street, near Ambridge, a few extra miles added, but little damage done.
After making the turn on the Orange Belt, the climbing began again. It was at this point that I began to wish that I was home again. I wasn’t bonking, but I was merely tired, and my back was sore. We enjoyed a few brief rollers, then were presented with the ride’s single hardest obstacle–Barberry Road. As we started up, I slapped my forehead, wondering what I was thinking. Barberry is narrow, steep, and long–not what you want to see at this point. Josh and I decided to take a “bathroom” break about halfway up, with Josh scurrying off into the woods and I draped over my bike, trying to stay upright. We pushed our bikes a bit until the steepest part was complete, then remounted and continued the climb through a mile or so of horse stables. Once at the top, we re-connected with the Orange Belt, and our work was rewarded with the stellar descent into Sewickley.
At this point, we caught Dan and his friends, who had missed Barberry and simply followed the Orange Belt. Good for them. I took a corner a bit too hot, and thought I might go flying over the barrier, but the Cannondale, for all its bulk, handles fairly well. I slowed a bit, re-adjusted, and was on my way. There was already a bunch at the Crazy Mocha coffeehouse (the ride’s single controle). Eric and Wes were snacking, with Wes packing up to leave again, as he had somewhere to be. Josh and I both got lunch, and we enjoyed the weather and conversation for a bit. Several other riders came in, included Matt, one of the ten speed boys. He noted this was the farthest he had ever ridden. Impressive, especially given his jeans, basketball shoes, and backpack. Grant Peterson would be proud. We finished our food and drinks and remounted. The group for the final stretch consisted of Josh, Eric, Matt, Dan (the fixed gear fellow) and myself. My familiarity with the route from Sewickley to the city made the miles easier to swallow, and I led the pack across the river and through Coraoplis.
Once on Neville Island, I again slipped off the back, though at this point I wasn’t alone, flanked by Dan and Matt. We reconnected at the far end of the island, and Matt led us through McKees Rocks and paced us across the bridge (again, his pace was pretty darn impressive at this point). The final descent through Brighton Heights was an absolute joy, and we found ourselves back at Beleza at 2:42 PM. Not bad. I took the sign-in sheet from the counter and saw that we finished about 30 minutes behind the group the left Crazy Mocha as we got there. Considering our lazy lunch, and numerous other stops, I was impressed with the pace, and, really, the pace of the group as a whole. A few other riders trickled in as we drank coffee and chatted on the sidewalk. A group of 10 or so riders were still out on the course, but we were traveling to the New River Gorge to climb, so I had to be on my way (I later found that everyone made it back after some mechanical and navigational issues). The ride home was more like a limp, with the derailleur and chain deciding they were through. The chain skipped every tenth pedal stroke.
Two days later, I feel fine (even the next day I felt OK), and I think, maybe, I’ll organize another one this summer, when it’s too warm to climb. The ride was fun, and I was very happy to have organized it. Do I want to ride 60 mile ride every weekend? No, thanks. Would I like to do one a few times a year? Sure. Sign me up.
Posted on 7 May 2007
Over the weekend, Ivan Basso (winner of last year’s Giro d’Italia) voluntarily left the Discovery Channel cycling team ahead of his hearing before the Italian Olympic Committee for his ties the Operacion Puerto doping ring. I’m not sure what to make of this. Why would Basso leave Disco if he knew he was innocent? Additionally, Tyler Hamilton, who just finished a two year ban for blood doping (a charge he vehemently denies, still), may be investigated again for ties to Dr. Fuentes, who is at the center of Operacion Puerto. Neither will likely be at the start of the Giro on 12 May. With Basso’s “retirement,” two of last year’s three Grand Tour winners are on the sidelines because of doping allegations (the other being Floyd Landis).
If I were either Levi Leipheimer or Alexander Vinokourov, I would know that this could be my year to win the Tour de France (and Vino could very well take the Tour/Vuelta d’Espana double). If anyone thinks that last year’s TdF runner up (and likely wearer of the yellow jersey for the prologue this year) Oscar Pereiro has a chance at repeating, think again. Pereiro was allowed by the peleton to gain a huge time advantage, something that is unlikely to happen again.
Posted on 1 May 2007
We are home. The flight home yesterday was generally without incident, a pleasant surprise given the general lack of sleep thanks to a 4:00am wake up to get to the airport in San Jose. A word or two about that airport. First, the little taco stand has great burritos. Not what one would expect in an airport. Second, for being a hub of the global economy, the airport is really horrible, at least if you’re flying Nortwest. The gate was tiny, and required a walk on the tarmac (not that Sebastien didn’t appreciate the close-ups of the various planes and trucks). Apparently the city is doing major renovations, so let’s hope things are improved before our next visit. The airport in Minneapolis is horribly big. Thank goodness our flight arrived 30 minutes early, since we had to travel the length of the airport dragging children and carry-ons.
We spent the day Saturday seeing the sights. After spending some time on the beach in Santa Cruz, we drove up to Big Basin to see the redwoods.
Impressive, to say the least.
It was a good trip. It would have been nice to stay in Santa Cruz (this was both our and my employer’s intention, but hotel rooms were impossible to come by)–there would have been more to do in the evenings, and Jen and the boys would have been able to walk to the beach. And I would have ridden to work each day. Next time, I suppose.
Posted on 30 April 2007
So I went for a little lunchtime spin with my boss today, as he had an extra bike. The bike, an old Cannondale (let’s say, late 80s or early 90s) actually fit me quite well. The steering felt absolutely scary at first, what, without a loaded basket on the front. This made the initial descent down the narrow, twisty run of Granite Creek quite exciting. Once on the flats, I settled down, and could actually enjoy the scenery a bit. We looped about halfway to Santa Cruz, then returned, totaling maybe 10 miles or so. The road back was generally a very shallow climb, with a few rollers for good measure. It was like riding Dorseyville Road (except through a narrow creek valley rather than on a ridge), with little traffic, lots of big houses, and even some horses for good measure. Good fun.
Posted on 26 April 2007
I was remiss with mentioning the Spring Classics campaign this year, mostly because I’ve been too busy (read: lazy) to write much of anything. So here’s a brief recap: Tom Boonen was shut out from the big three (the Tour of Flanders, Gent-Wevelgem and Paris-Roubaix). (The success of his season now rests on winning the Green Jersey in the Tour de France) Stuart O’Grady became the first Australian to win Paris-Roubaix, taking the victory in positively un-hellish weather, with dry and hot conditions. And American George Hincapie was forced to miss the Classics after an injury in the Tour of California. The second round of the season is starting up, with races like the Amstel Gold, Liege-Bastogne-Liege, and the Flèche Wallonne–hillier racers that favor a different sort of rider, one who can deal with the longer, more severe climbs. These will lead into the Giro d’Italia, which is always an interesting race, as it is yet to be dominated completely by stage specialists and includes some absolutely hideous stages (this year includes the climb up Monte Zoncolan, with sections as steep as 22%).
Two other bits of cycling news have yet again cast a shadow on the sport. First, Floyd Landis’ “B” sample was found to contain synthetic testosterone, thus validating the original tests that cast doubt on his Tour de France win. Landis’ camp has repeatedly denied the charges and claimed that the French lab has been biased. It’s unlikely we will ever know the truth, unfortunately. It does, however, seem that Landis will be banned for two years, and his Tour victory will be stripped. Additionally, Ivan Basso will be investigated again for apparent links with the Operation Puerto sting, and Discovery Channel has asked that Basso not race until the investigation is finished. He will miss the remainder of the spring season, and there is some doubt that he could participate in the Giro. Good thing Disco picked up Levi Leipheimer–without Basso, he is certainly a threat to win the Tour, if he continues his form from the spring.
Posted on 24 April 2007
