Thursday, November 06, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Okay, Cipo, I'm glad you did it...
Now that I am over the shock of Cipollini deciding to come out of retirement to race with a bunch of ex-dopers on Michael Ball's Rock Racing team, I have to admit that I am actually glad Cipo made this decision. Initially I thought there is no way Cipo, at 41, would stand a prayer next to the younger sprinters in the Tour of California like J.J. Haedo and Tom Boonen. I imagined Cipo's return to pro cycling after a three year hiatus would be reminiscent of Jordan's disastrous foray into pro baseball after retiring from the Bulls or Drew Bledsoe's last season as a pro quarterback. Much to my surprise and enjoyment, however, Super Mario pulled off a podium spot earlier in the week, two spots behind Tom Boonen. Seeing a guy like him race again is quite cool, especially when he shows he can still pull it off.
Seeing interviews like the one below is well worth the disappointment of seeing him race for Ball's team. My favorite quote: "I am 41 here in the body, but 20 in the brain."
Seeing interviews like the one below is well worth the disappointment of seeing him race for Ball's team. My favorite quote: "I am 41 here in the body, but 20 in the brain."
Friday, January 18, 2008
Please don't do it, Cipo!
Mario Cipollini's apparent intentions to race with Michael Ball's Rock Racing squad made me lose all respect for the guy. Why would a great sprinter like Super Mario, with 42 Giro wins, want to make a lame return from retirement to race with a bunch of dopers like Tyler Hamilton, Oscar Sevilla, and Santiago Botero? It's worse than Jordan's disastrous post-retirement foray into baseball.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Promoting 'Cross Races....
...is a hell of a lot of work. Over the past few days, I have planted no fewer than 700 international orange wired flags in the nearly impervious, rock-hard Texas soil, blistering and cutting my hands to shreds in the process, all in an effort to bring out a cyclocross course from an otherwise empty field at Ft. Sam Houston, somewhat like a sculptor chipping away at a hunk of marble, slowly revealing the form embodied in the rock. Or something like that...
The course had a serious flaw in that it had to traverse a gravel parking lot that was used even on weekends. Getting it closed off seemed to be impossible, so I was attempting to route the course on the perimeter of the lot, basically using car bumpers as one side of the course. Not exactly the most aesthetic of cyclocross courses to be sure. Even worse, the dirt at the edge of the lot was rutted and torn up, which would have translated into a bone-jarring section.
Today while working on the course, a footbridge near the parking lot caught my eye. I had ridden the course dozens of times, but I had never seen this bridge tucked away in the trees. My problem was solved instantly. Instead of traversing the parking lot, I could route the course across this bridge. Not only could I avoid the treacherous parking lot, but I could incorporate a pretty cool feature found on many euro courses!
The course had a serious flaw in that it had to traverse a gravel parking lot that was used even on weekends. Getting it closed off seemed to be impossible, so I was attempting to route the course on the perimeter of the lot, basically using car bumpers as one side of the course. Not exactly the most aesthetic of cyclocross courses to be sure. Even worse, the dirt at the edge of the lot was rutted and torn up, which would have translated into a bone-jarring section.
Today while working on the course, a footbridge near the parking lot caught my eye. I had ridden the course dozens of times, but I had never seen this bridge tucked away in the trees. My problem was solved instantly. Instead of traversing the parking lot, I could route the course across this bridge. Not only could I avoid the treacherous parking lot, but I could incorporate a pretty cool feature found on many euro courses!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Southern Plains
Part of my holiday travel plans include a few days in eastern New Mexico, Clovis to be exact. Feeling the need to get in some good base miles, I headed out to some of the rural roads in the area.
The wind out here is incredible. The forecast called for 25 mph winds directly out of the West. Out here, you need a more precise forecast of the wind direction--you need a compass direction. If the forecast calls for wind direction of a few degrees less than 270, you make sure to head south and west. If it calls for wind direction of a few degrees greater than 270, you head north and west. With wind this strong, even one or two degrees off of an absolute cross wind can translate into a vicious headwind or an awesome tailwind. The forecast here called for wind out of around 260, so I headed south and west.
Going out was a bear. 325 watts could only get me up to 14 mph into the headwind. When I settled into a tempo range, I was lucky to get up to 12 mph.
The drivers out here, when you encounter one, are extremely friendly. Virtually every car that passed me switched lanes to give me the widest berth possible. The biggest danger was certainly not the cars, but the massive tumbleweeds blowing across the road at 25 mph.
After a few hours of pavement, I got bored and decided to explore the dirt roads that criss-cross this country as part of a massive grid that allows farmers to access their fields.
Within a few minute of leaving the pavement, it's an entirely different world. Nothing but absolutely straight roads disappearing into a vanishing point out on the horizon of the plains, the sound of the wind, and quiet farm fields.
It's amazing what you will see out on these farm roads. All kinds of animals--rabbits, deer, rodents, quail, snakes (in the summer), coyotes, and massive crop-feasting insects. Dead cattle. Old car parts. All kinds of trash. Spent shell casings. Beer bottles. You name it.
The wind out here is incredible. The forecast called for 25 mph winds directly out of the West. Out here, you need a more precise forecast of the wind direction--you need a compass direction. If the forecast calls for wind direction of a few degrees less than 270, you make sure to head south and west. If it calls for wind direction of a few degrees greater than 270, you head north and west. With wind this strong, even one or two degrees off of an absolute cross wind can translate into a vicious headwind or an awesome tailwind. The forecast here called for wind out of around 260, so I headed south and west.
Going out was a bear. 325 watts could only get me up to 14 mph into the headwind. When I settled into a tempo range, I was lucky to get up to 12 mph.
The drivers out here, when you encounter one, are extremely friendly. Virtually every car that passed me switched lanes to give me the widest berth possible. The biggest danger was certainly not the cars, but the massive tumbleweeds blowing across the road at 25 mph.
After a few hours of pavement, I got bored and decided to explore the dirt roads that criss-cross this country as part of a massive grid that allows farmers to access their fields.
Within a few minute of leaving the pavement, it's an entirely different world. Nothing but absolutely straight roads disappearing into a vanishing point out on the horizon of the plains, the sound of the wind, and quiet farm fields.
It's amazing what you will see out on these farm roads. All kinds of animals--rabbits, deer, rodents, quail, snakes (in the summer), coyotes, and massive crop-feasting insects. Dead cattle. Old car parts. All kinds of trash. Spent shell casings. Beer bottles. You name it.
Friday, December 21, 2007
My friend Trebon
Can someone find me a cyclocross related blog that has not embedded the Youtube video of Trebon's crash at Nationals? I sure as heck can't find one.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Night Rides
If one thing could sum up why I love riding for this team, it would be the winter night rides we do together. The thing about racing in Texas is that the season is so long. The first race of the year is in January, and the road season runs through October. That means November and December are the months to get in the long, low-intensity endurance rides. That means rolling out at 4:00 on weekday afternoons, riding for a couple of hours in the fading daylight, and then cruising home on dark roads with nothing but your headlight to guide your way.
My favorite place to ride is south and east of town. No Hummers or yuppies blowing down busy roads on the way to the 'burbs out here, just quiet country roads occasionally interrupted by a friendly driver on the way home.
There is something surreal about riding at night on dark country roads, especially in December. The nights are usually quite perfect for riding, with temps in the 70s and 60s. With no concrete to retain and radiate the heat all night, you are exposed to the radical changes in temperatures as you meander through the countryside. One second you are riding along in balmy, 70 degree air, and the next you drop into a creek bed and get blasted by a pocket of 55-degree air lingering at the bottom.
I like the incongruity of riding in shorts at night in December, while taking in the many double-wides clad in christmas lights.
I like the odd looks you get from motorists and people going about their business at the convenience store we stop at south of town. People are always friendly, but somehow a little unsure of guys in tights and headlamps.
I like the narrow, quiet roads we take on the way back to town, roads so dark and still that they would be a little creepy if you were riding on them alone at night. Roads through towns with names like Calaveras ("skulls" in Spanish). Roads through towns like Elmendorf, which is where the carcas of a strange, dog-like creature (labeled the "chupacabra") was recently found, leaving DNA scientists baffled as to what it is.
Roads that cross the venerable Say-Town institution known as the "Ghost Tracks."
After logging around 60 miles of country roads, the ride culminates in a pass through downtown San Antonio and finishes off with the infamous Pig Stand sprint, a 3/4 mile drag race on a wide-open, usually traffic-free road in the heart of San Antonio.
Sure I always look forward to the time change in March, but nothing can come close to a ride on dark country roads at night with good friends.
My favorite place to ride is south and east of town. No Hummers or yuppies blowing down busy roads on the way to the 'burbs out here, just quiet country roads occasionally interrupted by a friendly driver on the way home.
There is something surreal about riding at night on dark country roads, especially in December. The nights are usually quite perfect for riding, with temps in the 70s and 60s. With no concrete to retain and radiate the heat all night, you are exposed to the radical changes in temperatures as you meander through the countryside. One second you are riding along in balmy, 70 degree air, and the next you drop into a creek bed and get blasted by a pocket of 55-degree air lingering at the bottom.I like the incongruity of riding in shorts at night in December, while taking in the many double-wides clad in christmas lights.
I like the odd looks you get from motorists and people going about their business at the convenience store we stop at south of town. People are always friendly, but somehow a little unsure of guys in tights and headlamps.I like the narrow, quiet roads we take on the way back to town, roads so dark and still that they would be a little creepy if you were riding on them alone at night. Roads through towns with names like Calaveras ("skulls" in Spanish). Roads through towns like Elmendorf, which is where the carcas of a strange, dog-like creature (labeled the "chupacabra") was recently found, leaving DNA scientists baffled as to what it is.
Roads that cross the venerable Say-Town institution known as the "Ghost Tracks."
After logging around 60 miles of country roads, the ride culminates in a pass through downtown San Antonio and finishes off with the infamous Pig Stand sprint, a 3/4 mile drag race on a wide-open, usually traffic-free road in the heart of San Antonio.Sure I always look forward to the time change in March, but nothing can come close to a ride on dark country roads at night with good friends.
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