Alpenrose Thurs. Madison 7/20/6

Steven Beardsley offered to teach me how to madison and I accepted. I just always thought Molly would be my first. I thought it was in the stars. But Steveo’s been spending a lot of time with me lately. And he is just so nice. And he asked and asked and I just couldn’t say no anymore. We met early before almost anybody had showed up. We rolled out, I went ahead, I heard him say “hand” and I put my hand behind my hip. Then he had it in his, he came by me for a second, and then I went from 10 mph to 25 mph in about a quarter of a second. I involuntarily let out a falsetto “whahhh!” in surprise and exhilaration. After about 40 minutes of getting used to this, I reminded him, “You know you’re my first, right?” and the tenured track class teacher smirked behind his mirrored sunglasses, probably thinking of the countless times he’s heard that from countless bright-eyed track newbies. Now, I’m drinking a Busch Light, wondering where Molly Cameron is, what she’s doing, who she’s with, what she’s thinking about, whether or not she’s thinking of me and if she’s ever coming back.

So anyways, we raced the madison, and it’s hard. And, then, umm, I suck at throwing my partner in, because… umm, I have no upper body… umm…. strength. And then, umm, well, we, umm, won and then HOLY CRAP how am I supposed to think about anything but Floyd Landis???? We ride bikes, right? That’s, like, what we do: we go on rides. Today we saw The. Ride. It was THE bike ride to redefine what a bike ride could be. That was the single most perfect and beautiful symbiosis between a human and a bicycle in the history of the technology. He and his BMC climbed, they roared across the flats and they floated down the most treacherous descents like nothing bad could ever even possibly happen. And all the while, every last rider with a hope and a team was chasing him as hard as they could. I was telling Molly last night how bad I felt that I wasn’t sad that Floyd cracked. I should like the guy. He’s paid his dues, he’s shown he deserves the world, and, moreover, he doesn’t seem like an asshole, Lance. But when he cracked, I was intrigued, not disappointed. I was entertained, not mortified. He just rides so boring. He forces everyone else’s hand without showing his. I didn’t care. I was even pointing at the TV and joking that he had no idea what to do yesterday since there is no chapter in Lance’s playbook that says what to do if you crack and drop from 1st to 11th. But today he started his own book, and it clearly states in bold type: you get pissed. You get absolutely enraged that anybody in the world thinks they’re winning this… no, not “this”… YOUR Tour. You wake up and say, “I’m brutally murdering EVERYBODY and there’s no stopping me”. You throw Lance’s book to the fans that are gathered at the start line and then you get on your bike and then you straight up ride it faster than anybody else can ride theirs. Floyd Landis is the greatest cyclist alive, in the purest sense of the word.

Mid-Summer Crit #1 7/19/6

So fun. Molly made me do it. I was all lame, talking 'bout the $15 entry fee and the crash danger being all for nothing. Turns out that I had been forgetting that racing bikes is fun. She clarified this for my stupid ass, I snapped out of it, and we were off.

This crit is a super fun course, with a roundabout-style corner, two U turns, a full spectrum of pavement surfaces, and a finish comprised of super-smooth pavement and a slight uphill. Molly and I both got into / instigated early breaks that didn’t work. Seth CMG went solo and totally got away (I bet it feels good to be that strong). Three Veloce riders (including Jesse), Molly and I worked for a long ass time to try and get him back, 5 riders against 1, but the course’s tight turns really favored the break. Funny note: Steven B had forgotten his Rubicon kit, borrowed some CMG spandor, and was now cheekily playing the I-have-a-“teammate”-in-the-break card. So funny. With two laps to go, I conceded and stopped pulling through... and started thinking about the sprint for 2nd place.

Steveo tried to go halfway through the last lap and I was with him. I pulled through, but seeing that the pack wasn’t having it, I glass-cranked it to the final U-turn. I went through first, hesitated, then made like I was attacking hard, but intentionally didn’t go anywhere. Casey Deck came around me and started drilling it, either early for himself or right on time to set up Steve. I took his wheel, a quick breather, and then the sprint. SteveO almost got me on the line, but no cigar.

The coolest thing for me here is that I didn’t sit in all day, just saving my legs for that second place. I broke away, I worked hard to (fail to) pull a break back, and then, when none of that worked, still featured in the sprint... and made a quick buck or two for 2nd place. And, for the first time got to feel, through the tubes and joints of my lovely Lapierre, a full-power high-speed sprint on flawless pavement. Holy crap this thing’s a rocket. It is sssso choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up (at Veloshop, that's 9th and Burnside, ask for Molly). Anyways, I’m not worthy... literally: I can't finish paying it off!

Oh, and BTW, the results for the Tabor Series were finally posted and I didn't slip nearly as badly as I had thought. I got 6th overall, which (BEWARE: the following description lacks humility) is friggin' awesome. To use one of Chris' catchphrases... BOOYA!

Portland Short Track #2 7/17/6

Now for something completely different… a short mountain bike course that runs through the PIR motocross venue.

Boy, do I suck eggs at this. I’m doing it to try to learn how to ride my ‘cross bike by the time CX season opens. So far, so bad.

I rode the sport category, which is like 4’s on the road. I knew I needed to sprint for position to start the race, but I had no idea… I started quick and then pulled out of my Eggbeater and ended up starting the singletrack in like 15th position. Then I was caught in traffic for the rest of the race. Passing was really hard. And fruitless, since whenever I’d pass somebody, I’d just biff it immediately and they’d go by me again. I fell so much. And “dabbed” too many times to count. One time I spun my seat a quarter of the way around. Another, I hit a tree and bruised a rib and now can’t sleep on that side. The craziest thing about this, though, was that I got so royally beat and never even started to tire/ breath hard/ burn legs… nothing. This event is all technique… other than the opening dash, which of course also has a generous helping of technical issues. Anyways, I have no technique. Except for having managed to survive this one mistake on the last lap where I hit this motocross jump too fast and couldn’t keep it on the ground and sailed all the way to the flat for a not-so-comfortable landing on my scandium ‘cross bike. Kablamm. So, I’ll try again next week. I need work.

Mt Tabor Series #6 7/12/6

What not to do…

Again, I’m blogging like a week after the fact. Just not in a typy mood, I guess. Anyways, on with the story of the Tabor Finale:

I had a great series standing. I was fifth overall. I wanted very badly to protect that placing. I had Russell, Chris, Andy and Molly ready-and-willing to work for me. I had a five thousand dollar steed underneath me and a pink skinsuit stretched around me. I had jotted on my stem the numbers of five of the riders that were threatening me in the standings. And, get this--I felt great.

So, we’re going around and around, and it’s all fine and dandy. Cameron has a mechanical and drops a lap. Too bad, for sure, but now she’s only working for me for absolutely sure, which is admittedly good for me, not that’s it’s the way I’d want it. My all-star crew kills the last few laps, preventing any late attacks and expending an ungodly effort in doing it. On the last lap, Russell’s my last guy and kicks out the jams across the dam, like unbelievable-fast. I start to go around him and then notice that he looks like he might be giving more, so, I stick back on, and then he pulls off. Already this long sprint is going poorly. So I hammer up the hill and get overtaken near the top by four riders. So, I got fifth. Pretty good, right? As I cross the line, I look up at who’s beaten me and every number is on my list. I had effectively led out the very guys I needed to beat. Pretty sweet.

They still haven’t posted the final results, but I’m pretty sure I took a catastrophic slide down the list. Whatever. Next year, I won’t miss any of the races in the series. I did pretty gosh darn good for only having 4 real results (when they count 5)… and pretty gosh darn good for being an idiot.

AVC 7/7-9/6

Sorry it took so long to post. I’ll keep it short, as it’s now a distant memory. Anyways, right now I’m preoccupied with getting nervous for tonight’s Mt. Tabor finale.

In the qualifier, in which the 2’s and 3’s duke out leftover spots in the later 1’s race, I did really well. I don’t remember much about it. I pretty much took an early sprint on a long attack, and looked to see that the pack was giving me a lot of room, and that the strong Recycled guy was bridging to me, so I went. We took the lap and a couple of sprints along the way. I got back in, dying, and eventually recovered enough to start nipping points again. The race was crazy hard the whole way. Somehow I held on to second. I don’t know how. I finished in front of at least four riders that are just plain faster than me. It was a good, good day.

In the real points race, I had a teammate in Molly, who’s a Cat 1 and, as such, didn’t do the qualifier. I was super nervous before the race, to the extent that it was hurting more than helping. I was just pacing around, heart racing, burning calories. I wasn’t hydrated very well and it was damn hot. It started and I took some early points, but was realizing right away that I had no legs at all. I relaxed a little and just started working for Molly, who went off the front, leaving me to block. And block I did. Once she was back in, I scrapped for points anytime I had an easy setup, but, for the most part, just hung on. I got 8th, which was no disaster; but more importantly, Molly got 3rd. I’d call it a success if Curry hadn’t inched Molly out for the 2nd that should have been all hers. Next year. Next year, look out.

Oh, and for anybody that missed it… Oh. My. Gawd. Steveo B’s kilo was amazing.

Mt. Tabor #5 7/5/6

I prepared so poorly for this race. I didn’t ride at all the day before, drank a bunch of beer, played Trivial Pursuit and under-ate at a BBQ… then slept poorly with bad dreams and a high BAC. I moped around all day, ate too little and too early for an 8pm race, then showed up at Tabor sluggish and detached. Then I got 2nd. The ribbing I got from the Pink and Black crew may, indeed, have some truth to it: when I show up and say I feel like crap—look out!

The race itself was nothing special, except that all the breakaways (including the couple that I got in) just couldn’t get away… totally un-Tabor-like. Sampson, Cameron, Ollerenshaw and Tonkin all instigated breaks that didn’t even last a lap. The pack just wouldn’t be left behind. So, it stayed together, and the sprint would be for 1st instead of the usual 4th. On the last lap, I crested the hill almost last, drilled it down the hill, coasted through most of the pack across the dam, and then started a flat-out sprint at the gate. Just in case I had started to forget who I was and what I was doing there, Molly (on her way to a 7th… Up Velo!) shouted, “Go, Mark, GO!”, and I thought it sounded like a good idea. When I glanced up, I could see that Ollerenshaw had already gapped us all and wouldn’t be caught, no way, no how. So, I decided that the best strategy was to try to get him anyways, and at least I’d be going my fastest. With my imaginary Leia looking over my shoulder, I pulled the cheesy little lever to find that Artoo had miraculously repaired the hyperdrive just in the nick of time. The engine didn’t make the wha-whum-whummm sound… the stars turned to radial white streaks and I was gone. But of course Doug was out of reach. 2nd place.

The oxygen deficit that I was in was simply unreal. I got to the grass to try to avoid fainting and crashing my Lapierre, fell down and wasn’t quite right in the head for at least 30 minutes after the race. I felt like I had a concussion. So weird. It wasn’t like other experiences after long-ass races that had just drained me completely (like WVC stage 4 or the UCB road race). This was different. I was fine at the bottom of the hill, and completely wrecked at the top.

The unfailing support that I had been receiving from my teams all night (both Veloshop and Claremont Colleges were in the house) continued through my post-sprint daze and perhaps kept me conscious. The benefits of a cheering section cannot be overstated. It’s such a pick-up to hear your name shouted every time you toil by! Thank you. And yes, Savoie, you are the loudest.