Boat Street...

I raced the Boat Street crit today. I've done this one several times before (back in my collegiate years) and have always had fun. After a sublime, summery day yesterday, things were back to business as usual for Seattle, with lots of cold, gloomy rain. There weren't many racers, (Seattle, oddly enough, is full of fair weather racers), but there was a strong field of roughly 40 of us, including some Idaho boys I know. I didn't finish well today, but I raced hard, and did a lot of good work for the team. Ultimately, things didn't go our way, but we came close. Aside from winning two primes, the highlight of my race was immediately after I was done, when a large amount of stale, yellow sinus fluid drained out of my nose, right in front of my long time friend (and former Whitman team mate) Ian Gallaher.

I also feel obligated to share this photo of Alan Klug, a member of our cat 3 team, showing us all (in step-by-step form) how to "overcook" a corner. I believe Alan's body is fine, but his pride might be a bit bruised.

To All Those Nay-Sayers!

I got second place in a crit yesterday. That's the third time this season I've been the first one to lose. I get another chance today at the Boat Street crit, which, despite what my shoddy calendar says, is taking place today. Word.

Red Mill Burgers: An Exclusive Investigative Report

I was recently introduced to one of Seattle's best burger joints: Red Mill Burgers. After returning from a rather taxing training ride, I was pleasantly surprised when one of my house-mates-de-jour, Danielle, invited me to join her and a friend. The place was small, charming, and very busy. Right off the bat, I was impressed with the menu, and the astounding level of hotness on behalf of the mostly female staff. The place reminded me of one of those stupid ads: half a dozen beautiful women with skillfully applied makeup, huge hoop earings, and spaghetti strap tops, slaving over hot stoves. It were as though all I needed was a can of musky aerosol to send the cooks into a sexually charged frenzy, tearing my clothes from my body, carrying me off to the storeroom for god knows what kind of perversion.

Anyway, the burger (I opted for the Verde Burger, which featured a large hunk of roasted Anaheim pepper) was fantastic. Good quality veggies, a large patty, and a tasty bun rounded things out nicely, all reasonably priced at under $5.00. I couldn't complain; there is no more satisfying form of nourishment than a large, greasy, salty burger -- especially when still in the coils of a post-ride hunger. The fries and onion rings (fried in 100% peanut oil) tasted like they were made from actual vegetables, a plus to be sure. The milkshake, however, was decidedly sub-prime. Small, and overpriced (at least compared to the shakes I'm used to in Walla Walla and/or Boise's burger dives), it failed to deliver a knock-out-punch. All in all, I'd give the Red Mill a 4.35 our of 5.

I also had the pleasure of interviewing a former Red Mill employee. None other than the famous Cooper Lange, a fellow good-for-nothing promising amateur road racer who quit his job in pursuit of cycling-based glory. Or something. I had the opportunity of interviewing him, and then chose to embellish that interview beyond recognition:



Me: So Cooper, you worked at the Red Mill for how long?

Cooper: um...[plays coyly with my thigh]. Hehehehehehe. [writhes in laughter. spasms involuntarily] --SNORT--.

Me: Was it fun working at Red Mill?

Cooper: [chortle, through tears] I'm sorry. I don't know. Uh I usually ate chicken. One breast per day.

Me: So tell me about your attractive female co-workers.

Cooper: [suddenly alert] Oh, they were attractive. [pregnant pause. Cooper's gaze drifts towards the ceiling] And young.

Me: How young?

Cooper: [Pregnant, but then aborted pause] Like, "I don't work there any more because I don't want to end up in jail" young.

Me: I don't follow...

Cooper: Don't bullshit me Sam; your parole officer would beg to differ [hearty guffaw].

Cooper: I don't guffaw, you idiot.

Me: [nervous adjustment of shirt collar] anyway, back to the Red Mill, honestly -- how many tequila shots did you require to survive a day of working there?

Cooper: heheheheh [dazed expression floats across Cooper's face, mirroring the long forgotten memories of drunken debauchery that surface and float across his consciousness] Sometimes as little as three. When things got bad I'd just drink the toilet bowl cleaner. Then those damn songbirds would shut the hell up, ya know?

Me: yeah man. I dig.

Musings

These things, among others, have occupied my thoughts for the last two weeks:

That cow. I still think about that cow. It probably strangled itself only a few hours before I saw it -- who knows how long its neck was stuck in the fence. I got close to it and could smell its leaking rumen.



I bet those guys in the military convoy were really cold. I also bet they were pretty unimpressed by my swerving around the road while taking pictures of them during the blizzard.


WARNING: There is a donut shop right near where Alan lives called Mighty O Donuts. They are organic and contain no hydrogenated oils, which makes them ALMOST healthy. From 4-5PM, these delicious confections are on sale HALF OFF. Complications may include: eating too many donuts, not saving donuts for tomorrow's breakfast like you planned, eating your friend's donuts even though he gave you money to buy him some, and getting lost in the Tanglewood neighborhood while distractedly eating donuts on the walk home. Use with caution.


I'm glad with how things went during that stage race, but MAN did we get our asses handed to us in that crit. It was awful -- a true nightmare scenario: the two guys we wanted to keep the closest eye on escape from the field and, despite our best attempts, nearly lap us! The course was really hard, and I never got the hang of the corners. Not only that it was wet, grimy and cold. We all got filthy, and our bikes took forever to clean. Bitch bitch bitch. Moan Moan Moan.


Cleaning your bike in cowboy boots is a really good idea--your feet stay dry.


The quiche I just pulled out of the oven...what went wrong? Yes, I could have followed the recipe closer, but I didn't want to use all that half and half, plus I like the taste of whole wheat flour more. Was I just too impatient in cutting it? Yes, I think it needed more time to set. Should I have opted for more matrix and less particulate? I hope the pie tastes good -- even though I already know the apples are undercooked compared to the pears (how I don't know).

To Use Football Terminology...

...after a major fumble on Saturday's stage, I'm proud to announce that the ball was recovered, and run back for a game winning touch down on Sunday's final road race.

All hell broke loose on Saturday -- we allowed the 2nd and 4th placed riders to escape off the front, and couldn't muster enough firepower to bring them back to the field. I double flatted (the latter flat occurring late in the race, after the free laps were no longer in effect). I was pulled from the race, and my time was pro-rated, thus knocking me out of the GC completely. The breakaway won the race, and vaulted into the top two spots in GC by a healthy margin of over a minute. It wasn't like we didn't chase either; as soon as those guys went off the front we chased out brains out. After all is said and done, we simply got out asses handed to us. Badly. So badly we just laughed at ourselves the rest of the night.

Sunday's stage was a full-blown tidal wave of redemptive domination. The two GC leaders obviously paid the price for the efforts of the previous day, and once we'd cracked their respective teams, they didn't have the suds to respond to the attacks of my boys. I spent nearly 50 miles in a solo breakaway that perfectly set up my teammates. I failed to finish the race, but by golly, I sure did earn a slice of the winnings.

Willamette Results

You can follow my progress at the Tour of Willamette by going to the Obra website, or by clicking on the link on the right side of my page, and clicking on the results tab. I'm in the hot seat for the moment, but it's a very tight race. Wish me luck.

WEEKEND RACES BLRAGHAGHEAWA!!!!

MY WEEKEND'S RACES:

1: SEQUIM. WE FUCKED UP. THINGS WERE GOOD. THEN WE LET IAN TUBBS BRIDGE TO THE BREAKAWAY. HE WON. DUMB US. I GOT MAD AND RODE SO HARD I WANTED TO PUKE. I DIDN'T PUKE, BUT ALMOST. IT WAS 33 DEGREES AND RAINING. I GOT IN THE CAR. I SHIVERED FOR HALF AN HOUR AFTER THE RACE. BOOOOOOOOO


2: PIECE OF CAKE ROAD RACE. I FUCKED UP. I FORGOT THE ONE PIECE OF EQUIPMENT THAT YOU SHOULDN'T EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER FORGET, THE ONLY THING (EXCEPT FORGETTING YOUR BIKE ITSELF)THAT CAN REALLY PREVENT YOU FROM RACING, THE ONLY THING THAT YOU CAN'T BORROW FROM A TEAMMATE -- MY MOTHERFUCKING SHOES. I ARRIVE IN MOTHERFUCKING VANCOUVER WASHINGTON, AND GET ALL DRESSED IN THE FREEZING WEATHER, AND REGISTER TO RACE, AND I DON'T HAVE MY MOTHERFUCKING SHOES???? THEN, TO ADD INSULT TO INJURY, THE TEAM WENT AHEAD AND WON WITHOUT ME -- FULL PROPS TO MY TEAMMATES (NICK CLAYVILLE IS A BADASS), BUT GODDAMIT!!!

There are more races. Next weekend is the first full blown elite team race. We will take the Tour of Willamette by storm. And I've got some frustration I need to release upon legs of the other racers. Let them taste the pain of a man who suffered the indignity of spending 6 hours in the car without the chance to race. THERE WILL BE A RECKONING. REDEMPTION WILL BE MINE.