Friday, August 29, 2008

Vermont, Road Rash, Pain.

I just got out of the shower after the first day of racing. I never knew five and a half miles could put me in so much pain. Today was just the prologue stage which was an individual time trail. Everyone started thirty seconds apart. The first 3k were up hill and then it rolled with one more really steep hill in the last finish. I managed to catch the two dudes who started in front of me which was my goal. I finished second overall by two tenths of a second. Which puts me in a good position to make an attack on the General Classification on Sunday.

Tomorrow the goal is the do as little work as possible. Ride defensively, suck wheel, not loose any time on GC and I will be golden.

I forgot the cord for my camera so pictures for all this will be up when I come back and get around to it. So like November probably.

Yesterday was probably more eventful. On our way up we got our car stuck in a ditch of which i have photos. I forgot the camera cord so i cant send you any awesome photos of us pushing the car. For a second we though we were fucked and would have to call for a tow. Then we unpacked and went to check out the course for today. We met up with a few other racers. One guy pretty much shit his pants when he found out i was a bike messenger. Apparently people out side of New York City give a shit. who knew? He started talking about BikeSnobNYC. At this point it was dark and we road over to the spot to pick up our racer numbers. Suddenly i hit a speed bump which I off course failed to see. I suddenly realize I'm not holding my bars anymore. Somehow i found the time to look back, yell "what the fuck was that?" before flopping down on my right side and sliding a good ten feet on my hip. Showing up to registration bloody, in torn shorts, was a classy move on my part.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

I am at work, but,

fuck it. Dan has inspired me to blog.

He did come to my store today... and Dave was in tow. I actually really do enjoy when people stop by my store to say hello- things tend to get slow and the visits push me along. Also, it helps to reinforce to my coworkers how completely crazy and weird I seem.

Phyllis, I think, is either peeing really slowly or typing on her sidekick really quickly in the bathroom behind me. I can hear my phone beeping inside with her, but until I figure out what she is doing, I feel uncomfortable asking her to pass me my phone. I guess this is what it has come to.

I think the store has made about $27 today... Me sitting on the computer in the back room isn't helping the situation, or my rent getting paid.

On doping, training, racing, and sitting around in your underwear drinking beer.

Lets start with doping. Specifically in cycling. Doing drugs for fun is your own business and I don’t feel like telling you how to live your life anyway.

“The Tour de France is finished. It has been killed by its own success, by the passions it has released, the injuries and filthy suspicions caused by the ignorant and the wicked.” - Henri Desgrange

Sounds like a familiar lament at this point. With Ricco positive this year. The bombshell of Floyd Landis of two years ago and pretty much all the shit that has hit the fan since 1998 when the Festina scandal (see the doping section on TDF wikipedia page) broke the flood gates on the doping culture of cycling. But really if you think le Tour has been in trouble the last decade that quote above is from the 1904 Tour organizer. During that particular edition of the Tour the first three finishers were all disqualified for cheating and one hundred and one years latter where all flipping a shit fit because just the “winner” gets thrown out? Just trying to put things in to perspective.

Now to transition to training via a discussion about doping.

This morning somewhere between state line and the border of Sparkill on 9W Dave suggested that we should start a doping program over the winter. Now in reality cheating in the lower categories of armature road racing by doing drugs is as easy as lower category armature road racing is to begin with. Which means that doing drugs to win said road racing is the sexual equivalent of fucking your 12 year old sister because you cant get some. Maybe that’s a bit crude but I feel the metaphor works.

After seventy miles and about thirty two hundred feet of elevation Dave and I made it back in to the city and proceeded to get some milk shakes. We also visited Eva at her job in our matching spandex outfits.

Now I’m home. In three days I’ll be leaving with Dave to travel to Vermont to tackle the Green Mountain Stage Race. Since my racing season began on that cold morning in April standing around Central Park shivering violently I have been thinking about these four days coming up. My form has been great the last few weeks. My legs are shaved, tires glued, and I’ve managed to do enough shit talking for all the other two hundred and nine racers I will be taking on. Guess we are about to find out if I got what it takes to be Grimpeur.

Ok time to sit around in my underwear and drink some beer.