good lord.

Where to start.

Ulle is out (but at least he's got a bike line). That's too bad. I really liked watching him flog himself into shape over the course of the season, pulling it all out of his butt at the last minute for Le Tour. He definitly got shafted - guilt and innocence aside (did any charge ever officially get brought?). Basso's got a lovely contract with Disco, Levi and George to ride for him, and Jan has got nothing to do but eat schnitzel. What the hell. I meant, Jan suffered. He toiled and labored after belatedly realizing that he'd screwed up, again, year after year. It was fun. It was entertainment. Basso rode away with the Giro like he's shot an ounce of Pot Belge through his toes. Jan clawed his way into form at the Tour de Suisse and looked like he was sacrificing an ounce of flesh at the altar of the gods of cycling every morning to do it. He was tormented and talented. Basso had a certain chemical smell. Not that anything stuck to him, either, so good on him for still riding, but it was a hell of a lot less credible than most other rides I'd seen. At least Jan was entertainment. Now he's going to get fat and fade away. All we've got is some hairy Italians dancing around the alps like Ferrari's dogs. I wanna see someone pull themselves up a mountain by rope made of their own guts, not espresso and a needle. Or at least make believe. Sheesh. Where's the show?

Last night was a toggle-fest between the last stage of the ToCali and the Oscars. It was quite apt. Ennio Marcone got some award and I found myself on Amazon and soon the proud owner of no less than three discs of spaghetti western music - including the full soundtrack to The Good, The Bad, And the Ugly. Nice. It went real well with watching a break dangle in front of a pack and get chewed up again. Like a gunfight with Clint: long, drawnout, and inevitable. Maybe it was the beer, but it sure meshed well to me.

Dominguez winning in front of all the Euro sprinters was wicked, too. Domestic races sure breed some fast finishers. Haedo proved it last year, and I was stoked that the big guys got mostly shafted. Ballsy stuff.


Oh yeah - the TT sucked. I was flat. Rode well below my limits but just couldn't get the gears to turn over to go much harder. That'll teach me to take the days off when I need them, and open up like I'm supposed to.

O'Grady on Jan

Sharpton and Thurmond - weird.

smack.

This four days on - three days off training thing is working out pretty well, so far. The problem with it is, it requires discipline on my part to actually take three days easy in a row. Sunday through Wednesday are hard, Thursday through Saturday easy. Race, repeat. Thursday I was good. Friday, I showed up for the extended lunch ride, and found five Paul's guys there. Not the mellow riding lunchers. And 'ol Lou grinned at me and said, "you're going down".

Man, Lou, why did you have to say that. Now I gotta hurt you. And I really wanted an easy day.

So today, Saturday, I litterally spent on my ass listening to the rain and resting my legs. Took a short trip to the store, and watched the ToC on tv. Rode the TT bike lightly on the trainer while Stuart O'Grady tried to topple Levi, did some openers, cleaned up, got back on my ass. I'm paying for trying to lay the smack down yesterday during my 'easy' day. Tomorrow's 20k TT in Vancouver is sure going to hurt. There's a big difference in recovery between 4 on, 1 off, 1 on,1 off, and 4 on, 3 off. Fomer works you over then leaves you wasted, latter works you over then leaves you rested.

Damnit Lou.

ow again

52 mile race. so i attacked in the first 1/4 mile. 3 man break, got joined by 3 more, then dropped two of them, so we had a 4 man break. rolling, windy course. Never much more than a minute lead. HR never below 180 for the first 90 minutes - we were drilling it. 5 miles from the finish (1k uphill), the break broke up and i just couldnt get back on the wheel of the two guys ahead. got caught 4k to go. Two dudes up front held off the pack by about 10s. Nuts.

It was soooo worth it.

Rode my steel bike with the shallow tubulars, and man that was nice. The pavement was a mix of rough chipseal and smooth asphalt, and even with 120lbs in 22mm tires, it was like butter. Ass still hurts. I think that has something to do with drilling it, seated, for two hours.

When I'm ready to pass out, I'll have half a beer. Got a big ride planned tomorrow. Ugh.

bald again

Britney Spears goes bald on the same day I ritualistically buzz my head to a precise 3/8" in a pre-race season ritual going back to freshman year, of college. I love it. Soul mates, Brit, I can feel it.

Except that I've never flashed my thang in public. Or felt the need to go without underwear. Especially while wearing something other than pants. But other than that, you know, I feel a bond there. Oh, and Entertainment Tonight has never decided to make me the topic of the day based on my latest stupidities, but hey, we can't all be popular.

News based rants aside, I'm stoked. Buzzed the head in anticipation of racing. In college I let it grow from the HOCR until spring break, now it's pretty much the first 'cross race until the first road race. Then I go back to a #3 cut as my prefered hairstyle. I haven't actually been to a barber since '98. I did invest $20 in a pair of clippers way back when, and that was a smart move.

There's just something about smooth skin and short hair that feels like business. And I don't mean that like Anna Nicole type business (see last post), I mean it like athletics business. It feels fast. Bushy hair and fuzzy legs are fine in the winter, but once the season start I like to be able to fit a thin cap under my helmet without getting seriously hot once I start working, and the TT helmet actually fits when my hair is short. It's just comfortable. And instead of looking like an overgrown puppy dog, I can put on my race face and not look like a total tool. Looks are important in cycling, after all. Hence the tight clothes, dig. And carbon bits. And things like anodized water bottle bolts. Gotta love it.

Anyways. First race of the season and my scalp is ready, tho I'll be riding my steel bike, 32h tubulars on 105 hubs, and no bling at all. However, I will have sunglasses, regardless of the weather. Dig.

saving marilyn

So Anna Nicole finally bit it. Or chewed, shot, popped, or drank enough of whatever it was to finally put her over the edge. And now the news is all full of tributes and everyone and their mother is trying to draw comparisons to Marilyn Monroe.

Please. Cut it out.

Marilyn could at least do more than pose naked. And she had an affair with Kennedy. Anna Nicole married an old dude, grabbed at his money, gained like 100lbs, got a reality TV show that followed her spaced-out drugged-up ass around while she sputtered gibberish, and had about the same entertainment value as watching a slow motion train-wreck. Just because she tried to dress the same and color her hair the same does not put her on equal footing. Marilyn's voice can give men rumbles in their loins to this day. Anna Nicole is better seen than heard. Marilyn could act (somewhat), Anna Nicole couldn't handle more than reality TV level camera presence, and even that claim is dubious.

Marilyn was like the hot, clean girl next door who was just suggestive enough that you thought just maybe she might make out with you under the bleachers after school if you got lucky and if she would, you would thank god every day for the chance. Anna Nicole is like a third tier Nevada hooker in a mid-scale whorehouse in Reno, where you think the sheets are likely pretty clean but that girl might have something you'd regret seeing after the liquor wore off.

Not the same. Not even close.

And if you doubt it, consider this: Elton John ain't gonna write shit for Anna Nicole.

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If people would just bitch and moan less and take care of themselves more, we'd all live longer and happier. Duh. Amazing. It seems like every other person you meet has some inherited, aquired, not-their-fault condition that is responsible for their spare tire, spare tank, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, erectile dysfunction, dehydration, weakness, dandruff, pale skin, bedhair, and poor wardrobe.

Eat less crap. Drink less booze. Dont smoke. Get off your ass and move.

Fuckin' Magic.


Ran into too many damn commercials today. Sickening.

oops

Yesterday was supposed to be a pretty mild recovery type ride. I ended up doing 3 hours, on the CX bike but mostly on the road, instead. It began with a recon of Cantrell road for the Eugene Roubaix, hence the bike choice (and file-tread 35mm tires). Then joining a freind for a 'spin' which ended up being decent tempo for another 1h15, followed by a 45' cruise with the significant other. I'm bad about following my training goals, as I was supposed to have two easy days before a 4-day block starting Saturday with a nice group ride. Oh well.
Today, I spin for real.
This weekend is going to be brutal.

Lunch of choice: Sauteed duck breast with mushroom and onion, on fresh corn-meal baguette. And a double espresso. Civilized.