July

July. Le Tour. Cycling itself, defined, over three weeks in July. For three weeks, I don't care if they all pack a bucket of cow's blood every morning, I'm still up early watching before work and then up late watching the re-runs after dinner. Maybe this is what the rest of America feels for the NFL. I doubt it, though, because nothing comes close to being a fan for a sport you actually participate in. I swear, I ride better in July just because the Tour is on TV.

And speaking of, did anyone else catch Jonathan Vaughters dropping the F-bomb live during the time trial? I'm sure VS took a big smacking from the FCC for that one. It was pretty priceless, though - JV was so excited he didn't notice either what he said, or how Robbie Ventura froze, dropped his jaw, glanced back and forth at the camera, and lost his train of thought. Priceless. JV kept on talking. Way to smooth it over, Robbie.



It's stinking hot. I showed up to the crit with four water bottles. Last week I only needed three. Sheesh. At least the legs are turning, though. And sleeveless morning rides before work are pretty sweet, too. July.

intervals

Ivar's been working on some new power analysis tools. It's cool. Check it out at:

http://ivong.wordpress.com/


In other news, it's official, I will be slow next year. By that I mean that I'm riding for the U of O ... uh, I mean, going to school. Business school, here I come. How much time does a full time MBA student have to ride? We will find out. Kenji might bust me down to the 4's by the time this is over.

odd

Something strange has happened to me recently. I've been bringing a handful of soyjoys to work for lunch, because they are easy, plentiful around the house (leftover from 'cross race sponsorship), and only recently expired. Soyjoy has been a bit of a joke around the races down here, being all dry and weird tasting, so much so that the running joke is that the tuesday crit primes should be a box of soyjoy for the last person across the line. But since I've been muching on them in the afternoons, at the rate 3-4 a day, I've realized that they're not too bad with a small cup of strong coffee. In fact, I kind of like them. Not alone, of course, but with a hot beverage or other sidekick. It's kind of like biscotti, only softer, and in a little package. I could picture two soyjoy on a plate with an espresso, out at a little sidewalk cafe somewhere sunny. Odd.

Who woulda thought.

seriously... stop with the spinal tap.

For the good full size shots, cruise to rouesartisanales. Every other part of the gruppo looks cool. The demented deformed forehead look of the brifters doesn't get any better in the up close shots. I used to have a love-empty wallet relationship with Campy, now it's a love-barf kind of deal. I want to love it, but I kind of have to kill the gag reflex first.

And if I hear or read one more person say "but ours goes up to eleven!", I'm going to snap. Other phrases that are henceforth banned:

"the cogs all go up to eleven, right across the board"
"well eleven is one faster, innit?"
"why don't you just make 10 bigger?"
"these go to eleven"

so just stop.

AMC

My teammate Big Dave has a semi-tradition that he calls the FMC - Friday Morning Coffe ride. This has turned into the AMC - any morning coffee ride, for me. Any loop in the morning sun with a pack full of work clothes and lunch, ending at the hideaway bakery for a 12oz americano with cream, and a bun. What a way to start a day. The lady and I kicked back this AM and got the buzz on while I put down a pastry, but I'm calling it ride food because I was still in my chamois, which means that the calories don't count. Mmmm.

She did the full Tabor race yesterday and had a good ride, while I did the 4 lap fixed gear race then declined to join the 1/2's, instead we got back to Eugene by 230 and had time to lay out in the hammock after lunch and pick broccoli for dinner. The legs were a little tired from the state race and Tabor was probably not going to be seeing any Midtown repeated (and brief) attempts at solo breakaways, unless you consider yo-yoing on and off the back a break.

The state race was interesting. From looking at the profile I thought we were in for a long uphill slog every lap, but instead it was a series of false flats and short kickers that suited me a lot better. Unfortunately, I failed to recognize the correct breakaway opportunities, and lots of riders kept slipping off the front in small groups. I think it ended up with Trebon solo, and two chase groups, then the remainder of the pack. On lap 4 I went ape for a while on the hill trying repeatedly to get off in my own chase group, but failed. Maybe I'm not subtle enough about my intentions. Hibbard and Bourcier always seem to roll away casually and end up way up the road before people think they're serious about it. I think I'm going to try more of the 'accidental' breakaway moves from now on. It's probably less tiring on the legs, too.

i died a little this morning...

ugly , hideous, might as well be Shimano? What's the point of going Campagnolo if you don't drool a little every time you see your bike leaning in it's corner before a ride, like a seductive Italian podium girl? I've had Campy on one of my bikes for a year and a half now and every time I ride it I take my gloves off so I can fondle the sleek carbon levers. My Dura-Ace race bike is pure mechanical speed, but my Record bike is cycling satisfaction. I had even begun to consider upgrading the race bike to Campy too, and had already decided that my next ride would be all Italian componentry. Until this morning, that is. Now I will be on the lookout for close-out pricing on the 'old' stuff - the levers that actually make your bike look good. Shimano levers look like unattractive but perfectly functional precision machinery, and Campagnolo has always looked like Sofia Lauren was reincarnated into carbon bike parts. This new lever looks like two inbred retards mated in the Carolina woods and their baby was all forehead and no chin. I can see the sex happening, but where's the love?

This is like seeing the Giro girls go from this
to this


all just to attract a little more attention. Give me the first one, please.

Tuillo is rolling over in his grave right now.

i have to fart

Message:

the one and only thing i don't like about riding my fixed gear is that it is nearly impossible to cut the cheese. i mean my legs are constantly moving and it makes it nearly impossible to relax enough to release the brown cloud. anyone else have this problem? it wouldn't be so bad except that some days it really builds up and my mid section hurts with all the stink gas that has built up. sometimes i actually have to stop on the side of the road and release the excessive volumes of phew phew wind. if i hold it until the ride is over then that gas seems to just get worse and worse and by the time i get home and off the bike you'ld think i was the mayor of stinky town. so if any of you have some good tips for relaxing while on your fixed gear......

enjoy your friday,
Eric

HAHAHAHAHA!!!

Reply:


Eric,

You cannot fart because you are still a level 4 fixed gear rider. You have not relaxed enough to embrace the fixed gear life style. You are holding on too tightly, you are fighting the bike, and you are not yet one with your pedal stroke. Until you have reached the fixed gear epiphany and have completed the union between man and machine, then you will never fart.

Level 1: Search for the fixed gear. You have heard the sound of a single gear turning and wonder what it is all about.

Level 2: Discovering the fixed gear. You have identified the source of the noise. You are curious. You gather parts together in your garage.

Level 3: Perceiving the fixed gear. You have built your bike. It stands before you, unridden. You have questions. Knickers, bibs, or jeans? Where do I put my U-lock? Am I cool enough for brakeless or comfortable enough to install one?

Level 4: Struggling with the fixed gear. You ride the fixed gear, but it rides you. There is no harmony. You are tense. You may not fart. Every muscle hurts trying to control it, to let your gases out, you hold them in.

Level 5: Taming the fixed gear. You relax and your fixed gear rolls with you. It goes where you point it, and your legs are no longer kicked by the pedals. You are spinning well but you cannot fart.

Level 6: Riding the fixed gear home. You turn slowly homeward. The struggle is over; gain and loss are assimilated. The fixed gear feel comfortable and begins to fade underneath you. The road awakens. You are aware of your need to fart.

Level 7: The fixed gear transcended. Farting is now possible. You are serene. The fixed gear is serene also. You no longer notice that there is no freewheel. Your legs turns easily and your muscles relax. You fart as needed.

Level 8: Both fixed gear and self transcended. Farting is now automatic. You are not aware of riding, just of motion as you move along your path. Farting is easy.

Level 9: Reaching the source. You are now unaware of your farts. You are unconcerned with farting or with fixed gears. You are calm.

Level 10: In the world. Farting is no longer necessary. Barefooted and naked of breast, you mingle with the people of the world. Now, before you, dead trees come alive. You are blissful. You go to the marketplace with your wine bottle and return with your staff; everyone you look upon becomes enlightened.





partially plagiarized from the old zen story of 10 bulls.