Chris Strout: In the Gutter

12 things I'll miss

2009-12-07T11:18:00.007-06:00

In the spirit of the season, I want to share 12 things I'm going to miss about Chicago. Contrary to the way I may have made it sound recently, I don't "hate" Chicago -- but, at the same time, it's just not me, and I have to admit quite a bit of excitement for the impending move. So here goes, a month-by-month list of things I will miss:

January - The strong tradition of Chicago theater, and specifically Broadway in Chicago. I have seen more shows in Chicago (and also, Milwaukee) than I remember, and am proud to count thespians and theater managers among my many friends and loved ones.

February - Chicago's diversity. On those insanely cold February days in Chicago when it's not safe to ride to work, I hop on the L (thankful for the public transportation system!), and marvel at the mass of humanity from all walks of life, all colors, all creeds that make Chicago what it is.

March - Long lakefront rides with Brad, up to the Highwood Starbuck's. Especially when it's been 30 degrees and sleeting all week, and then we luck out with a 50+ Saturday. Riding the "hills" in Highland Park and Fort Sheridan before enjoying a latte and turning south into the warming wind.

April - The Chicago Fire soccer team. It was at their very first home opener at Soldier Field in April 1998 that I began to see the world with new eyes, and I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for Zach Thornton!

May - Our families, especially in May. My SIL's b-day, Mother's Day, my birthday and our wedding anniversary all fall within 2 weeks of each other, and it's a beautiful time of year to celebrate life!

June - The guys at The Pony Shop -- especially Lou, John and Warren, who have put up with me for nearly 10 years now. Their service and friendship has been invaluable, and I wouldn't be the rider I am today without them!

July - Wisconsin. So it's not Chicago, but from here it's so easy to get there -- and I will very much miss our friends who live on the other side of the Cheddar Curtain. And I will miss its unique beauty -- from Door County to the Mississippi, from the North Woods to the strip malls of Kenosha and Racine, Wisconsin has a little bit of everything.

August - Mike Pechnyo and The Judson Ride. By August, it's a complete hammerfest with all the racers in top form, and Mike's self-professed "anarchy" means that this twice-weekly World Championships is a breeding ground for aspiring speedsters, many of whom go on to greater things. I remember my first ride being dropped by "FBI John" up on Atkinson, and having no idea how to get home!

September - Tom Skilling. 'nuff said.

October - The very strong Eastern European and Mexican influence in Chicago, which leads to an October filled with some of the most intense Halloween preparations anywhere in the U.S. Oh, and not to mention many great restaurants!

November - That one clear, 50+-degree day with a south wind in November, commuting home on the LFP with the gillmering full moon showing silver on the lake.

and finally ...

December - The ChiCrossCup, and specifically the State Championship race at Montrose. Seeing more than 400 people racing yesterday, the spectators, the tents -- the CCC has become a fantastic scene, a far cry from the days when we were lucky to get 10 guys in the As, racing in front of family. Viva The Cup! Viva Chicago!

W O W !

2009-12-05T10:11:00.000-06:00

Stolen from the Hendersonville Times-News web site, our new hometown!

Love my little Oatmeal Head!

2009-12-03T14:33:00.002-06:00

Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes

2009-12-02T10:00:00.002-06:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEETHEART!

Of John Denver and Waffle House

2009-11-22T23:36:00.006-06:00

When I was a kid, my dad got this great career opportunity in Chicago. I still vaguely remember living in California; still remember his trips east to find a home and the cassette tapes he would send back with messages for me, my mom and brother; still remember the journey halfway across the country towing our small trailer up the Rockies.

What I remember most, though, is the music. My dad uprooted our lives, leaving his childhood home, his parents, all of his and my mom’s siblings - everything they knew - to travel to a flat, cold, barren, cornfield-surrounded exurb of Chicago on the eve of the worst blizzard in recent memory. He found solace in the folk country of John Denver, and between repeated listening to his mellow crooning and frequent camping trips to State and National Parks in nearly every state in the Lower 48, my dad instilled in my brother and I a love for the natural beauty that surrounds us and a desire to explore and experience it for ourselves.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that it was also, at its core, a coping mechanism. Making that choice to leave everything behind, taking his two young children away from family, tore him apart, more deeply than I ever knew. Hearing John Denver sing about the Rocky Mountains, country roads in the Blue Ridge and being lost and alone on some forgotten highway was comforting to him, and experiencing those things for himself with his boys helped him through what I’m sure were some of the most difficult years of his life.

So perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised lately that nearly every morning, when I flip on my iPod, I click over to A Song’s Best Friend, the greatest hits of John Denver. From “Leaving on a Jet Plane” though “Country Roads,” “Rocky Mountain High” and “Sweet Surrender,” I turn introspective, digging deep to look for, as the song goes, “Something I can believe in/Something that I’d like to do/With my life.”

There’s nothing behind me and/Nothing that ties me
To something that might have been true yesterday
Tomorrow is open and/Right now it seems to be more than enough
To just be here today

And I don’t know what the/Future is holdin’ in store
I don’t know where I’m going/I’m not sure where I’ve been
There’s a spirit that guides me/A light that shines for me
My life is worth the living/I don’t need to see the end

See, over the course of the past few months – years, really – Kim and I have come to the conclusion that our future is not meant to take place in Chicago. We’ve known it for some time really, and it has become crystal clear over the past year: For all that Chicago has to offer, our destiny, and the destiny of our daughter, lies elsewhere.

Where that elsewhere might be has been unclear, and it was with very heavy hearts that we shared these thoughts with our families a few weeks back. But it has become time for us to leave, although deciding to remove Kate from the incredible loving environment of aunts, uncles, cousins and especially grandparents has given us pause and more than a few tears, more than once.

I also shared the news with the folks at World Bicycle Relief, and although they were surprised, they have been very generous and supportive, and have helped me create a transition plan that allows me one last go-round with our annual fundraising campaign – our strongest yet, in my opinion. Perhaps the toughest thing so far has been hearing the stories coming back from the Million Dollar Ride, seeing the videos and pictures, and knowing that I will be passing the torch to someone new to take the lead in helping people in need receive simple, life-empowering transportation in the coming years. I’d like to think I’m leaving the organization in a good place for my having been there, and I am excited to see what amazing future marketing, fundraising and programming initiatives they have in store.

I’m excited for what Kim, Kate and I have in store as well - A move to the garden spot of U.S. mountain biking, and the historical cradle of the Forestry movement: Asheville, North Carolina. Surrounded by the Great Smokies, edged by the Pisgah National Forest and transected by the Blue Ridge Parkway, Asheville is home to some of the most accessible, most amazing outdoor opportunities anywhere in the world, from the easy access of Bent Creek or Brevard or DuPont, to the incredible views from Chimney Rock or Mt. Mitchell, to the Class II and III rapids on the French Broad, and on and on for miles in every direction. It’s a sportsman’s dream, and I am looking forward to helping Kate come to love and appreciate the beauty that will surround us.

Ashville – or, more properly, the “suburb” of Fletcher – is also headquarters for one of the bicycle industry’s most iconic brands, Cane Creek Cycling Components. You may know them from their past work in wheels, you may know them from their suspension, you may (hopefully!) know them from their core headset products; no matter which way you slice it, you know Cane Creek, and you know that Cane Creek products help make your bike roll, turn, stop and go better and faster. What you may not know is that Cane Creek is based here in the U.S., in the mountains of good ol’ North Carolina no less, and is the home to a small group of people who are passionate about making sure your ride is as great as it possibly can be.

I’ve gotten to know those folks over the past few weeks, and they’ve gotten to know me, and I have been fortunate to receive an offer to join them. So, starting three weeks from now, on Dec. 14, I will become the Director of Domestic Sales for Cane Creek, working to nurture our relationships with distributors and dealers throughout the country. It’s an exciting opportunity for me to re-engage my passions for presentation and relationship building, borrowing from skills I began to develop way back during high school mock-Congress and debate sessions (thank you Mr. Paldauf!). It’s also an opportunity to learn the nitty-gritty of the sales side of the bike business, working alongside some folks who have been in this game for a very long time … and who are also the ringleaders on the daily lunch rides! It’s a good team, focused on one very important goal: Making Cane Creek products and the brand all that they can be.

Yes, it’s bittersweet. It is very difficult to walk away from an organization like World Bicycle Relief, that does so much for so many people, in such a meaningful way. But I plan to stay involved, and I join Stephen Janes, Nolan LaVoie and other World Bicycle Relief supporters in Asheville – heck, even the local IMBA chapter, Pisgah Area SORBA, is holding a silent auction at their holiday party to benefit World Bicycle Relief! Ultimately I need to do what’s best for Kate, Kim and I, and relocating to a place where our lifestyle will be a better match is a critical piece of the puzzle.

Oh! And one more thing: Asheville, being a city in the South, is also home to my version of comfort: Waffle House. I fell in love with the Waffle House experience a few years ago on a World Bicycle Relief trip to Charlottesville, Virginia, and I blame Nolan, Karen, James and the rest of the Blue Ridge School and CRC supporters for getting me hooked. If I hadn’t come to visit them, I would never have become a Waffle House “Regular” …

Before I go, I’d like to leave you with one more thing I take from my father. The story of Winkin’, Blinkin’ and Nod, and their voyage upon the sea, was often one of the last things I heard before falling asleep each night. Perhaps, after all, it was the image of the three of them, sailing off in their wooden shoe, that set the stage for me to one day embark on a journey of my own, with Blinkin’ and Nod in tow.

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, one night sailed off in a wooden shoe;
Sailed off on a river of crystal light
into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?"
the old moon asked the three.
"We've come to fish for the herring fish
that live in this beautiful sea.
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song
as they rocked in the wooden shoe.
And the wind that sped them all night long
ruffled the waves of dew.
Now the little stars are the herring fish
that live in that beautiful sea;
"Cast your nets wherever you wish
never afraid are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three -
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

So all night long their nets they threw
to the stars in the twinkling foam.
'Til down from the skies came the wooden shoe
bringing the fisherman home.
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
as if it could not be.
Some folks say 'twas a dream they dreamed
of sailing that misty sea.
But I shall name you the fisherman three -
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

Now Wynken, Blynken are two little eyes
and Nod is a little head.
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
is a wee one's trundle bed.
So close your eyes while mother sings
of the wonderful sights that be.
And you shall see those beautiful things
as you sail on the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three -
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

GUILTY

2009-11-19T14:56:00.000-06:00

Be careful out there, especially if y'all are in Asheville...

Former Asheville firefighter pleads guilty in cyclist shooting
http://www.citizen-times.com/article/20091119/NEWS01/91119061

Roll Me Away

2009-11-19T13:17:00.003-06:00

Big changes on the horizon -- I promise the key to all the cryptic Twitter postings, Facebook notes and blog musings is coming soon. It's kind of a werid place I'm in now, and I find myself being super-introspective ... and listening to music that perpetuates it. I've always appreciated the music of my parents, but I think in the past couple of years I've come to also discover why they chose particular artists, albums -- and for sure, the past few months have seen a lot of John Denver, show tunes and Simon & Garfunkle.

To that I'll add Bob Seger, blasting out of the speakers as I drove to the Boulder Cup USGP races a few years ago. Forever a Midwest boy, Seger's Greatest Hits album pulls his best in a semi-autobiographical mix telling the story of heading West, his rise to fame, changes and his eventual return to his family and his roots. It opens with "Roll Me Away," and as I drove I-80 through Nebraska, I understood with stark clarity the wanderlust that drew him from his Michigan home, his attempts (and failures) to break through and break out, and the need to take on the world for himself, even if that meant being far from home. I, too, took a look down a westbound road and made a choice. And now here we are.

Stood alone on a mountain top/Staring out at the Great Divide

I could go east, I could go west/It was all up to me to decide

...

And as the sunset faded/I spoke to the faintest first starlight

And I said next time/Next time

We'll get it right

Time to go?

2009-11-18T14:04:00.002-06:00

I don't like Ms. Schmich generally, but I think she's on to something today:

Chicago has a mood problem.

It seems edgy lately, a little sullen and scared, verging on depressed. Some days, it feels more like the angry, confused place I moved to in 1985 than the exuberant city that has swaggered through the past two decades.

Read it all: City's tough year has it feeling blue

A week?

2009-11-17T09:18:00.000-06:00

Has it really been a week since I updated my blog? Crazy!

Scary stuff

2009-11-10T08:54:00.002-06:00

I read with horror the account of Australian cyclist Stuart O'Grady collapsing following a VIP lap on a superbike the other day -- literally, he got off the bike, went to the hospitality tent, and then went into a full-on siezure a few minutes later. Holy crap.

Well, the theory is that the G-forces from the motorbike ride might have caused a lesion on his brain, on account of a prior head injury that hadn't healed. He's had two serious head traumas in the past 10 years -- one bike-related, one a mugging -- and they think there might have been lingering side-effects from one of them.

Whew. That totally took the wind out of my sails. First off, I really like Stuey -- everything I've ever heard about him indicates that he's a stand-up guy. My thoughts are with him as he recovers -- all indications are that he will. But that has to be so scary.

Second, and selfishly, I have to wonder about one of the things on my life to-do list. See, I turn 40 in a couple of years, and I really want to celebrate with a day at a Richard Petty Driving School. I know the cars don't turn as many Gs as the bikes, but I've had more than two head traumas -- way more -- and so a little part of me wonders if it's a good idea. It's been a few years since I bonked my noggin, so hopefully everything is fine ...

Inspiration redux

2009-11-03T10:36:00.003-06:00

So this weekend I held a big-ol' pitty party for myself -- after spending all day Saturday in the office (except for the quick ride home and back for some parts), working and working on my dad's bike, I woke up Sunday and just wanted to go back to bed. I played with Kate for a bit, until she and Kim went out to see Kim's family (doing much better but health issues still lingering -- thankfully no more hospital!), and then, sure enough, I curled up into a fetal position and woke up several hours later.

Then I dragged myself to the couch, and wouldn't you know it? NBC was showing coverage of the NYC Marathon. Paula was just coming apart at the seams, and Meb was just about to drop the WR holder, and, well, I was riveted. Sure, it sucked that they had commercials, but that just allowed me to jump over to the MLS playoff game ...

Anyway, something in my head sort of snapped while I was watching the bizarre split screen images of Central Park. I haven't been feeling well on the bike, nursing some lingering issues from a very long season, but I hadn't yet gotten the gumption to do any other physical activity. Until then. So I laced up, headed out, and had a wonderful 2-mile run to the lake and back.

And then I did it again yesterday, during lunch.

And today? I feel great. I'm ready for NEXT. Not sure what NEXT is, but I'm ready for it. I still have some lingering bike-related things going on, but I know I can work through them with some off-bike rest and relaxation. And with some relatively heavy travel on my plate in the next few weeks, having the option to run is a good antidote to the do-nothing blahs. Who knows? Maybe I'll even get going on some core exercises like Kim?

* Speaking of bike-related issues -- my hand has been messed up since I crashed at Outdoor Demo at Interbike, more than a month ago. I watched as my right hand crashed into a rock, splaying my index finger outward at an odd angle. I don't think it's broken, but I've had swelling off and on around the knuckle where the finger connects to the hand for nearly 5 weeks now. Unfortunately, it gets re-injured every time I shake someone's hand! Anyone have any experience with this? Best way to heal?

Turn the page

2009-10-28T10:45:00.003-05:00

Almost exactly three years ago, I had a hex placed upon me by a witch -- no lie, I have a lot of respect for witches, but this lady fit every stereotype from every B-grade horror movie you ever saw. And she hated me. There may have been some lead-in, but I can point to the day I fired her as the start of a very long, very downward spiral in my life. There have been some amazing moments, and great successes in the past three years, but there have also been some pretty dark times.

Until now.

Coming out of Interbike, I turned a page. Something just clicked, and I realized I wasn't who I want to be. I wasn't who I was 4 years ago. I was a shadow of that person, and was clearly not living up to my potential.

The change was sealed last evening. See, three years ago -- almost to the day -- I fired the witch, and that night was hit by a car on my ride home. I was already frazzled from needing to fire an employee, and that impact completely fried my nerves -- especially so, since it wasn't my fault and I did everything I could to avoid it.

In a sweet bookmark to the end of that chapter of my life, yesterday I completed a perfect commute -- on city streets. That's right, 9 miles of Chicago traffic and traffic devices, never put a foot down. I've done it via the LFP, but never in traffic -- I can't think of a better way to mark the closing of a chapter that began with being hit. And it happened yesterday, of all days.

So what's next? I honestly have no idea, but it's going to be great. This morning a black cat crossed my path, which thanks to Valya I know is a good omen. I'm a new person -- well, I'm re-newed. I'm ready. Bring it on!

Before you leap

2009-10-27T16:22:00.000-05:00

I have. Have you?

Pretty please?!

2009-10-23T15:07:00.000-05:00

It's even a Exclusive Anniversary Edition!

Left out?

2009-10-22T09:10:00.004-05:00

Today is maybe the second time where I'm acutely feeling the difference between my previous 30+ years of existence and the past 10-1/2 months.

For those of you not in the cycling world, tonight is the premier of "Race Across the Sky" -- a one-time "happening" in theaters across the country. It documents this year's Leadville 100 race, a 100-mile mountain bike trek in the Rockies won by Lance Armstrong. Facebook is all a-twitter with updates from folks who are going.

I'm not a huge Armstrong fan (there, I said it. Love what he's doing with LiveSTRONG for cancer patients and survivors, but as a rider and person? Respect? Yes. Like? Not the right word.). I wouldn't be going to see him win. Rather, I'd be going to see some pretty amazing scenery in one of the storied (albeit boring, from a course perspective) epic races of current-day mountain biking. Run at altitude, this race demands physcial abilities unlike any others, and maybe -- just maybe -- I may do it someday. So call it course intel? (Funny aside, I've been asked more about doing Leadville than any other race ever, since Armstrong's win this summer.)

But ... I'm not going. If I really wanted to, I'm sure we could find a sitter, or I could go alone ... but I'm not. Instead, it's just another routine night of bottle-book-& bed. Two years ago, heck, even a year ago, Kim and I may have gone to the theater, stood on line, and watched the movie, even if we hadn't planned it until today. Now? Notsomuch. Funny how things change.

So have fun everyone, can't wait to hear about it!

(Rant on/ I have one other issue with this film, and with so many that are coming out about our sport. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." I'm not ashamed to admit that Jason Berry's work is a huge inspiration to me, and is really the reason I'm a) a mountain biker; and b) an endurance racer. But now that pretty much everyone has access to an HD camera and editing software, at what point does an artform become a commodity? /rant off.)

X12 6266

2009-10-22T08:34:00.003-05:00

This post is mostly a hedge, because as we're learning in California, prior douche-bag-like behavior can, in fact, be an indicator of future, dangerous, harmful events.

So here it is: Businessman driver of dark-colored Infinity SUV with license plate X12 6266, traveling northbound on Clark last night, Wednesday, 10/21/09, just north of Touhy at about 6:35 p.m.:

GET OFF YOUR DAMN PHONE AND PAY ATTENTION WHEN YOU DRIVE! YOUR (ILLEGAL) TEXT IS NOT MORE IMPORTANT THAN MY LIFE!

Oh, and don't mess with a cyclist with a near-photographic memory.

Uno más

2009-10-19T09:58:00.003-05:00

If you had asked me last Thursday whether I would spend yesterday at a kitschy art fair or racing at Rock Cut, I'm not sure I could have told you. Neither sounded particularly appealing, as the thought of crowds made me shudder and the racing bug sort of went into hibernation.

But then the sun came out on Friday, and I had a good ride home from work, so I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd be up for one more go-round on the pain train this year. After a fantastic pre-race workout on Saturday, I confirmed it: Do the Rock was a go!

I lined up with about 20 other folks for the 3-lap, 36-mile "OUCH" class, enjoying a beautful day and ready to go all-out on some (OK, just about all) of Rock Cut State Park's best trails. Any ambitions I had for this race were sort of dashed in warmup, when I discovered my the chain I put on the night before just didn't want to settle down on the chainring, and I couldn't apply power while standing. Oh well, I thought, these are my home trails, let's just have fun!

(I don't normally like to do drivetrain overhauls the night before a race, but in this case the sand in the chain from Moab was just too much and it needed to happen!)

Sure enough, I lost the front group before we even got to the road, and I found myself alone, dangling in 5th ... going about the same speed, but unable to really push it lest I kill my bike. At some point early on, my shift lever got screwy, so I stopped to fix it ... only 10 minutes or so into the race, I was probably in last place, so I resolved to just push it as hard as I could and have fun out there!

I managed to catch back most of the field, digging deep where I needed to and having a blast on some of the cool route choices. It definitely helped that I knew the trails -- at least once or twice, a guy I was chasing mis-timed a shift or blew a corner, while I knew exactly what to expect, giving me an advantage. By the start of the second lap, I was closing on one guy, until I messed up a bunny hop and landed on my knee. D'oh! Chase, chase, chase ... thankfully, a season of enduros meant that as hour 2 began, my fitness was in high gear, as guys in front of me started to pop.

The third lap was my cleanest, no stops for mechanicals and I was as smooth as I'd been all day. My chain had settled in, and I was having so much fun, especially in the rollercoaster down by the river. As I entered the finishing field, I could see one guy in front of me ... into the singletrack, turn, up the finish hill, and if only the course were 50 meters longer, I might have taken him ...

Anyway, I finished 7th on the day, closing in on 6th, as Ronsta ran away with it in something like 2:04. For 36 miles! In fact, the "largest state park in Northern Illinois" fell victim to a full-on invasion from across the Cheddar Curtain, as Regina took 1st in the 2-lap race, and it sounded like most of the podium placers had Wisconsin hometowns. Very cool to see such a good turnout at the Cut!

So that's it for me in terms of racing, and I closed out the year with a delicious treat from the Big S. And then Kim and I stopped at Diary Mart in Huntley on the way home, the first time we've been there in years ... Oh yeah, the off-season has begun!

Signs

2009-10-16T10:18:00.003-05:00

As many of you may know, I'm a big believer that the universe is constantly telling us something. It's all some sort of cosmic Force (minus the stupid Midi-chlorians of course) that surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together. Call it Karma, call it Kismet, call it what you will, my take is that if you're really open to it, you can see "signs" all around -- they may not point the way forward, but they sure as heck give you a heads up that something is going on.

So without getting all hocus-pocus and Hollyweird, I just have to say this: things are happening. I have a feeling this winter will be a time of transition, and the "signs" I'm seeing point to some pretty dramatic changes for 2010. In this case, change is a really good thing -- sure, it's a little scary, but the last buildup like this changed my life trajectory so completely, and for the better, that this time around I'm embracing it, throwing on a lasso, guiding it when I can and hanging on. Pretty exciting!

Highs and lows

2009-10-15T09:34:00.002-05:00

I'm still trying to process the past week ... month ... half-year ... but I figured now would be a good time to get a few words down about Moab.

First, an enormous thank you to Kim and Kate. This year has been one of very high highs and very low lows, and both of them have been there with smiles and a level of understanding that is so deep it's unbelievable. I know in my heart you two are the best!

Second, big thanks to Sean, Todd A., Bonnie and Finn for joining Kim and Kate in making up the best pit crew ever ... it says a lot when a "non-teammate" makes a comment about feeling super-pro because of all the awesome support in our pits. And speaking of that non-teammate, thanks to Charly and Sean for all your help this weekend!

So what am I thinking? I will admit, I am disappointed. Moab is not a race to be taken lightly, and as both Charly and I discovered, it's more or less an all-or-nothing proposition. I had a solid race and a top-10 finish there last year with no expectations; this year with no expectations, I fell apart. Being 50-50 at Moab is nothing to be ashamed of -- stronger men than me dropped out this year -- but there is a small bit of me that is sad at the way things turned out.

What happened? Blow-by-blow it went down like this: Woke up Saturday just not feeling it. Tried to take an extra nap, but even getting dressed I was questioning in my head whether I should start. Set up my bike on the rack in perfect position. Had a decent run, trudging through the sand and passing a bunch of people on the return leg. Hit the road and move up. And up. And up -- the lead-out was longer this year than last.

Had a decent lap, sticking with a group that starts to spread on the rocks. Get passed by Ernesto and then Charly. Still feeling strong, I roll through in 10th place solo.

Quick pit, in and out, and down the singletrack. Hit the sandpit and bam, I'm down. Not a big deal, back up and over and bam, down in the next sandpit. Crap. Still OK, onto the rocks and get a little sideways, and freeze. Lock up. Check out.

I have a few ideas on what happened, but the truth is, I only know how I reacted. My heartrate skyrocketed, my breathing quickened into hyperventilation, and I was so overwhelmed that I had to stop and put my head down, trying to take back control of my body and mind. I got to the top of the climb and started pedaling, feeling OK until the next rock section -- on approach, I started hyperventilating again, and my heartrate shot up. I could not get my body to relax, could not calm down, and ultimately could not focus enough to ride anything even remotely technical.

I spent the rest of the lap alternating between walking the rocks, riding where I could and standing in the shade trying to breathe. Brad and Todd caught me and offered help, but I needed to work this out on my own. I was pretty cooked, and on the long downhill stretch to the rock I decided to pull the plug. So I turned left instead of right, and headed downhill to the pits.

Kim did her best to get me back on the bike, but I was having none of it. I tried to have a rational conversation, but was just overwhelmed. I ate a bit and chilled out in the car for a few minutes ... when Kate woke up from her nap and gave me a big, sloppy smile, my day became much brighter. Things started to look up, and I figured I'd at least finish my lap and see how I felt.

So I headed back out. Up the downhill, back to the turn around the rock, and into the most fun part of the course. I was relaxed and having fun, and by the time I hit the gap in the drop, I was ready for it. Only the guy ahead of me wasn't, and pulled an awesome endo! So I walked it, but bombed the descent and had a really good climb back to the top.

Roll into the pits, feeling 100% better, and off I go for lap 3. At this point, I'm doing the math in my head, and realizing that although I effectively destroyed my race, I could still have fun with it, and my average lap times would even themselves out. There was still a long way to go, and I was up for it -- I figured I'd at least equal last year's 13 laps, and maybe, just maybe, be able to go for 14.

Laps 3 and 4 were a ton of fun. My lap times don't really reflect it, but I was flying -- riding sections I'd never cleaned before (pre-rides nor last year's race!) and railing the tech sections like I should. I pulled some pretty great moves, if I do say so myself -- I had found a zone, and I was enjoying every minute of it!

I did have a couple of small issues that added time to the laps -- mainly, I spent some time trying to figure out my helmet light strap, and adjusting some of my equipment as night fell. These were minor things though, and I kept my eyes on the prize as I rode, working out average lap times in my head and keeping a good rhythm. I caught and passed a few solos whom I recognized, and started to entertain thoughts of taking back my lost lap as I rode away from them.

I switched bikes for lap 4, heading out on my red Song while the white one got worked up for lighting. I was a bit nervous as I had endoed the red one at the notch on Thursday, landing on my chin, but with the right tire pressures and a ton more confidence, I made the notch my b-eatch and FLEW down the last part of the course. I love that section!

Roll in to start lap 5, grab the white Song and head out. Had to stop again for some light adjustments, no biggie, but realized I wasn't riding so hot in the sand all of a sudden. Hmm ... The final straw was going down sideways in the sandy chute, and I had to stop to fix my handlebars which had gotten sideways. I suffered a huge crisis of confidence at this point -- crashing and dumping the bike a few times in a half-lap after a bad lap 2 will do that to you! I took a deep breath, though, and thought it through, realizing that my bike switch meant that there was probably more air in my tires, I dropped the pressures and rode it out. Perfecto!

(I love my tire pump in that it works really well, but the gauge is off by 4-5 psi. So even though the crew put the pressures exactly where I told them to, I should have remembered to drop some air before I rolled out on the lap!)

So things are good, my lap time will still be OK, and I rail the notch on the first night lap -- always a good indicator of the way things will go for the rest of the night. Whew! Drop down, speed up, fly through the corkscrew, start to climb, up, up, up, there's the sand, push it, time to walk, and HOLYCRAPWHATTHEHELL!?!!?!?!?!!!

I put my left foot down in the sand, and an incredible, sharp pain shot through my knee. I couldn't stand on my left leg, and I limped it over to the rock where I could start riding again. I flexed it a few times, trying to loosen it up -- it had gotten tight the week before the race during a workout, and I had dinged it when I crashed on lap 2, but this was *really* painful. Throughout the race, my left cleat had been filled with sand and I had trouble unclipping, and something in the twisting, or the pre-race or the crash just made my knee not want to work right. And it HURT!

I started to roll, slowly, and although I wasn't feeling a ton of pain while riding, it didn't feel good either. At the top of the hill was some sand, requiring a good line choice and some judicious application of power, and my knee just didn't want to push that hard. Crap. OK, long downhill, enjoy it, roll it in, let's see how it feels when I get to the pits.

I took some Aleve and threw on knee warmers, hoping the extra support may help. I rolled out, and made it to the first sand pit, where the line had changed yet again, and I got sideways. I went to unclip and YEE-OW! that just wasn't happening. My knee was done, and so was I. I limped out to the road, and rolled back downhill to the pits. My race was over.

So, I'm bummed. Given the minor swelling on the knee that I've experienced since, I think I made the right call. But I also think back to 9 Mile 07, where Dan Brennan rode it out with microtears in his meniscus, and I wonder if I could have done more. Like, if I were in a better mental state going into the race -- and especially on lap 2 -- would it have turned out differently? But I'm also not too worked up about it, more philosophical than anything.

We spent the rest of the night worrying about Charly, who had "disappeared" from the course when the EMS guys at Nosedive didn't call him in. Four hours later, he rolled into the pits, and we could concentrate again on Brad and Todd. Keeping it steady and strong, the guys rolled lap after lap, eventually finishing and putting Brad into 2nd place for the National Points Series. Huge congrats for a great finish to the season!

As for me? As Todd says on his blog, I think things will be different next year. I'm sort of tuning out the racing bug for a few weeks while I get some other things in order, and although I'm riding to and from work every day, I've got other things to do on the weekends right now. Then again, we are signed up for Old Pueblo in February, and long autumn mountain bike rides are pretty awesome ...

(Not) According to plan

2009-10-09T10:10:00.003-05:00

If you asked me a week ago what my favorite part of the Moab course is, I would have told you about this awesome, super-sonic, big-ring downhill into a 6-foot cliff that has but two lines, only one of them really good. Then you drop into this crazy rocky/sandy chute that spits you out onto this further downhill section of rollers into a sandy, twisty drop, before you start the last climb on the course.

Today? Not so much.

Charly and I drove through the night before posting up just outside of Grand Junction, switching off sleeping and driving, feeling good the whole way. Quick breakfast in GJ, and we were on the Moab course by noon -- easy pre-ride before the "real" pre-ride today. Only "easy" is relative at Moab, and sho-nuff, I managed to get stupid and miss the aforementioned "good" line on the cliff face. Last year during the race I split 50-50 walking and riding it; this is where I put the gigantic dent into my top tube. This year I was determined to ride it, only after being in the car for 29 hours straight, I wasn't very loose, I was hesitant all around the course, I didn't get back far enough, and there I was suspended in mid-air with my bike behind me (?!) in the most amazing nose wheelie before landing on my chin and dragging my body through the sand and gravel as my bike landed on top of me.

Oh yeah, *this* is my favorite part of the course.

Anyway, I feel good today and am looking forward to some race-paced riding out there today. And that drop? It's mine, no hesitation, no fear. Bring it!

Work inappropriate

2009-10-05T14:08:00.000-05:00

Have you ever noticed that in cycling, it's all about the shirt? Just ask Lance ...

Just received this goody in the mail. Sweet! Get your own here ...

XXC!

2009-10-05T12:41:00.003-05:00

I caught wind of a new e-zine a while back dedicated to the ultra-endurance crowd ... oddly enough, I had no idea that this year's 12 Hours of Stump Farm was featured in issue 2 until just recently!

Anyway, Brad and I had been discussing the "XXC" prowess of Chicago-based riders despite our lack of mountains and relative lack of singletrack. Out of that, a story was born, and published today!

Check it out here: http://xxcmag.com/site/eMag.html

And the web extra here: http://xxcmag.com/site/Windy_City_Training_1.html

HUGE thanks to everyone who helped with the story!

10 months!

2009-10-02T10:00:00.002-05:00

... and helping dad pack for Moab!

Check out more Kate luv here, public album so the link should work:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=154430&id=811368326&l=62ac473269

Re-energized

2009-09-28T14:31:00.002-05:00

Whew! I made it home from Vegas accompanied an unexpected burst of energy -- whereas last year I could barely turn the pedals on a post-Interbike Sunday recovery ride, this year I put in a solid 4-hour MTB-on-the-road trip out to the in-laws to celebrate Kay's b-day. Feeling good, impossible to believe there's only 12 days left in the season!

The show went well, great to connect and re-connect to so many industry types. Things are happening, and while Moab looms large, there are bigger fish frying on the horizon. Gotta' keep focused, gotta' keep moving, gotta' keep picking and choosing and responding.

Notes to self for next year: Keeping it on the DL, not going out at night, getting enough sleep is key. Wearing compression socks all day is key. The Americano at Illy Esspressamente in the Palazzo is key, as is their gelato with crepe au chocolat. And the crab rolls w/ pop rocks at Yellowtail in the Bellagio. And going out on Monday for Outdoor Demo -- although *not* key is crashing on the second-last run while riding a Santa Cruz Blur and spraining the knuckle on your braking finger.

Glad to be home, glad to hear Kate say "da da" in person after hearing it on the phone all week, and glad to sneak a snuggle this morning before starting the week. Bring it!

"Things are coming together"

2009-09-17T11:56:00.002-05:00

I said that out loud to myself yesterday: "Things are coming together."

Sh*ts gettin' done. Interbike plans are solidifying. Packages are arriving, packages are leaving. And I'm finally seeing the light at the end of this long, snot-filled tunnel.

Next week's show is going to be interesting. I have a plan, and I'm sticking to it. Not sure that I'll make it out to the races, but I plan on coming home Saturday as rested as I can be and ready for one last gasp -- Moab.

In the meantime, the treatment modalities that I'm employing seem to be making a dent. Two pink pills yesterday and one each for the next four, and the infection should be killed. Following that up with a few snorts and a few other pills, and the junk is clearing out. And I finally caved -- yes, I stuck a teapot in my nose and let the salt water flow.

Truth be told, the neti pot wasn't as bad as I thought. I've always equated them to Whole Foods, new age "holistic" medicine -- and I've always been afraid of letting water flow through my nose, period. But if you can close off your throat, hold your breath a little, and stand over the sink, it's not that bad -- and holy cow does it work. The immediate relief I felt in my compacted sinus cavity was worth any gross-out factor I might have imagined -- it was really *that* good. And this may sound odd, but if you brush your teeth just beforehand, any weird salt flavor is covered up and it's sort of pleasant. Sort of.

So I'm on the upswing, and looking forward to getting on trail this weekend. Not sure what my legs will have in them (given the antibiotics I'm taking now), but anything is better than nothing at this point, which is where I've been for too long.

Oh? And the best part? My coworker Craig is moving to Africa, and yesterday we hosted a little goodbye milk-and-cookies party for him. And since you may want to eat a little something when you take your antibiotics ...