YOU EEEEEEEEDIOT!

Well, today was hard. Very hard. The combination of unusually high winds, a lot of strong racers, and the fact that the GC was wide open (thanks to this year's rearranging of the stages) made for a very hard race. AWH SHIT GUYS WERE CRASHING LEFT AND RIGHT, THE CROSSWINDS NEARLY BLEW THE WHOLE THING APART, CHRIST IT WAS HARD.

As for my race, I chose a very inopportune time to take a pee. I ended up off the back chasing like a bat out of hell, shooting all my bullets, burning all my matches, launching all my rockets trying to chase back on instead of using those valuable incendiaries on the final climb (like a smart racer would). I LITERALLY PISSED MY RACE AWAY!@!!!#$@

DID YOU READ THAT??? LET ME TYPE IT BIGGER:

I LITERALLY PISSED MY RACE AWAY!!!!!!!!!
I LITERALLY PISSED MY RACE AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I AM AN IDIOT!!!!!!!!

There shall be a reckoning. Stage 3. Or 4. Or 5. BUT MARK MY WORDS!!!!
This is Sam, OVER AND OUT.

p.s. a post regarding the status of this week's poll is on its way.
p.p.s. results can be found here.

A Rare Species of Mullethawk

Here's a recent facebook interaction I had:

Duncan: For various reasons including zero good ones, the rare species of the mullethawk has arrived at Whitman and appears to be contagious- I myself recently came down with what looks like a lasting infection. I urge you to be strong.

GliderBison: EGAD NO!!! Duncan, not you too?!?! My condolences to be sure. You have almost certainly caught a strain of Euro-Trashitis -- a rare but dangerous affliction. Hopefully your case won't lead to complications such as "Fu-Manchosis" commonly known as "furry upside-down horseshoe on your face" syndrome. My advice would be to avoid attending techno-pop concerts (you didn't go to the Blue Moon Release Party, did you? I heard that was just crawling with dance-jams???), tektonic dancing, or prolonged exposure to tight pants, gold spandex, or aviator sunglasses. Best of luck.

You have been warned.

Glider Bison Poll: To Shave Or Not To Shave?

As my first NRC race draws near, I've been forced to make some tough decisions. For instance, today, I went into my old shop, dropped about half the balance of my checking account on some new parts for my road bike -- I can't be showing up to the Gila with a bike that sounds like it's ready to explode, now can I?

Well unfortunately there are certain forces in my life that would like to see me adopt a more "professional" appearance. There are also those who wish to see me maintain my "unique flair". Therefore, in the name of fairness and the democratic spirit, I've decided to put it to you, dear blog readers. Voting begins now on the right side of the page (note: won't work on the facebook uploads, you'll have to go to the actual blog) and ends Monday at noon. Spread the word --

p.s. I fully encourage a healthy dialog on the matter -- post comments to voice your opinions (or to suggest other options).

GLIDER BISON NEWS FLASH!!!

That's right....we're IN to the Tour of Utah. One of only five amateur teams, Hagens Berman has been formally invited to compete "America's toughest stage race". Holy shit. Buckle up. I'm down here in New Mexico preparing for the Tour of the Gila at the moment, an infamously tough stage race boasting a massive 24,300 feet of climbing. The Tour of Utah makes this race look like a stroll through the park -- it's got 30,000' of climbing! At altitude??? With 12 pro teams in attendance??? GOOD LORD. That's why I'm:

Walla Walla Roundup

Well dang. I have to say -- my hat is off to the Red Truck team. After watching them fold under pressure in Willamette, I was honestly expecting the same thing to happen last weekend (especially with SO much more pressure). There were at least three strong teams hitting those guys with everything they had, and they stayed cool under fire. Several of their guys marked moves (and sat on them), chilled out and protected Rob Britton (who was in the race lead by a solid 2:15), while the other half of their team rode at the front to control breakaways. After 75 miles of racing Red Truck had enough fresh guys to actually go on the offensive -- much to our surprise and dismay. Getting to form an echelon and do some real damage to the peloton was fun, but it would have been more fun if we weren't also desperately trying to chase back the leaders. My team closed the gap to within a minute or so, and then Justin Rose of the Bob's team and I struck out on our own. It was, to quote Justin "the bridge of our lives". We caught up to the leaders, but were so completely blown that we couldn't do anything other than watch the attacks go up the road and suffer like beaten dogs for the final 5 miles of racing. To illustrate my point: the final ascent of the climb out of Waitsburg I was in my easiest gear (a 39x23), cranking over maybe 75 RPM's, my face contorted in a mask of pain, going as hard as I could go. Honest to god, I considered getting off and trying to jog. Earlier in the race, I'd tap danced to the top of that climb in my big ring without even realizing it. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

That's what I look like when "the wheels come off".


Thanks to Amara from WheelsInFocus.com. If you ever want to purchase top quality shots of all the best races in the Northwest, go there!

MAGIC SOAP!!!

Dear Dr. Bronner,

Your soap is so fucking amazing it makes my head spin. Thank you for inventing this amazing soap! It cleans my hands, it shampoos my hair, it lathers my body.
FUCK YEAH!
It cleans my dishes, it decreases my chain, it it washes my clothes.
FUCK YEAH!
It makes a mighty fine tooth paste, it kills the fungus on my feet, it tastes delicious drizzled on a salad.
FUCK YEAH!
Mixed with gasoline it makes napalm, blended with orange juice and ice it makes a daiquiri, added to gasoline it improves your gas mileage by 30 percent.
FUCK YEAH!

I love your soap.

Tour of Wah Wah Wah.

Yes, I'm 3/4 of the way through the Tour of Walla Walla. The race has been mostly good. You can go over the full results at the race's website, but here are some of the highlights:

20 mph sustained winds all day Friday. We rode very well. Kind of. We were represented in all the moves, we were very aggressive, everybody was near the front in the crosswinds, we had six guys in the front group of 30, and I won the sprint, thanks to a killer lead out (nobody other than a Hagens Berman rider hit the front of the race for the last 5 miles of the race). Unfortunately, all that good riding wasn't good for much -- earlier in the race, we committed a major tactical blunder in letting a very strong rider escape from the group and gain a lot of time on the field. He was marked by and HB rider, but ended up breaking away, and keeping most of his gap on the field. He was nearly 3 minutes ahead at the end of the stage.

I won the TT!!! This win marks the end of a serious drought in wins for me. Aside from the Lovell World Championships (which, sadly, isn't sanctioned by USAC or the UCI), I hadn't won a bike race since July of 2006. My number of or third place finishes was in the double digits, however -- I was beginning to feel like Erik Zabel, a perpetual runner-up. This win takes a lot of pressure off. Phew.

We got SMACKED on Saturday afternoon. I might wait to tell you about that one -- but let's just say the Red Truck team didn't exactly crumple under our might as we'd hoped. I slid from 2nd to 5th GC. Ouch.

I'm a few hours from the final criterium -- one of the funnest crits of the year in my opinion. The weather is blustery, partly cloudy, and dry. Yippie. GO US!!!

RADIO ALERT!!!

Friday morning at 10:00 AM (Pacific standard time) I will be interviewed on the radio. Hopefully a teammate or two of mine will join me. The show is a sports-based talk show called "Non-Shock Jocks". You can go to the KWCW website to view the webcam, or you can stream the show live from this link.

p.s. dear readers, I must point out to you that I am only the second fastest bicycle racer to have graced the airwaves of KWCW's "Non-Shock Jocks". Mara Abbott beat me to it.

Oh How I Love This Life, This Live That I Live.

Ok, to begin with, I got a haircut and trimmed my beard. Please feel free to never take me seriously again.


Oh my goodness it feels good to be back on the road full time. Yes, there are times of less-than-glamorous living, but I honestly adore my lifestyle. Take my lunchtime meal for instance: in involved the following
Yes, that's right: turkey cold cuts, mustard, spinach and water. Nothing else. That's all I had. I was out in Waitsburg reconning the courses for this weekend's Tour of Walla Walla, and I unfortunately left my mobile pantry in Walla Walla, so my normal staples were unavailable. Lunch had to me made.

Step 1: pour mustard on meat.
Step 2: place spinach on mustard (on meat).
Step 3: eat.
Step 4: enjoy the day.

Photos of Sasquatch Racing

You can see my team and me (in all my fuzzy-faced glory) racing the Volunteer Park crit by going here (how did David Richter get so far ahead? how did I hold off Todd Gallager that long?).

You can see my team and me (in all my fuzzy-faced, rain-soaked glory) racing the Boat Street crit by going here (how come everyone looks so miserable? why is Morgan in every single breakaway?)

I'm already in Walla Walla. I'll be visiting old friends, riding old roads, and taking old naps (??) until my teammates arrive for the Tour of Walla Walla.

I Am Sam's Sinus Cavity

LARGELY IGNORED, AND SELDOM USED, I WAIT IN ANGER FOR THE CHANCE TO STRIKE MY CAPTOR DOWN!!! RARELY APPRECIATED FOR MY ABILITY TO ACCENTUATE FLAVORS, DETECT PHEROMONE SIGNALS, AND FILTER PARTICULATE FROM NOSE-BREATHED AIR, I AM THE BELLIGERENT BACTERIAL BIOREACTOR, AND THE DEVIL HIMSELF SHALL TREMBLE WHEN HE HEARS MY NAME!!!!! I WAIT IN ANGER FOR THE CHANCE TO COPIOUSLY CULTIVATE SINGLE CELLED SOLDIERS, CENTURIONS IN MY ARMY OF MUCUS -- VISCOUS, BROTH-LIKE COLLOID OF DISCOMFORT!!!! MY CAPTOR WILL RUE THE DAYS HE CHOSE TO RACE IN INCLEMENT WEATHER, BREATHING HARD IN THE COLD AND THE WET AND THE DIRTY FOR HOURS, RIDING RIGHT BEHIND RACERS WHO BLOW SNOT ROCKETS INTO THE REST OF THE PELOTON, A CONTAGIOUS MIST, A FOG-LIKE QUILT OF GERMS--HE REAPS WHAT HE SOWS!!!! I SEAL MY WALLS: A BARRICADE OF SNOT, A BUNKER OF BOOGERS, KEEPING THE FRESH AIR OUT, AND THE STANK-WATER IN!!! PRESSURE BUILDS. SOON AM FILLED, STRETCHED, STUFFED TO CAPACITY, AND MY PRESENCE CAN BE FELT FROM THE BACKS OF THE EYEBALLS, TO THE ROOTS OF THE TEETH IN TANGIBLE, PAINFUL FORM!!! WOE UNTO MY EVIL CAPTOR MASTER!!! LET HIM SUFFER THE FULL FORCE OF ROUGHLY NINE TABLESPOONS OF STALE RUSTY-COLORED SLIME TRAPPED AND SLOSHING ABOUT WITHIN MY LABYRINTH OF MICRO-CAVITIES!!!! HE SHALL PAY FOR HIS CRIMES, AND PAY DEARLY -- ESPECIALLY WHEN HIS NOSTRILS LEAK DRIPPY GOO IN PUBLIC SPACES IN FRONT OF OLD FRIENDS.

"Oh--there it goes!" I said, referring to my right nostril.
Ian stared at me with a combination of utter disgust and medical curiosity.
"Sorry, this is really gross -- I have to go do this in private," I said, as I wiped the still dribbling slime out of my mustache, "it was good to see you Ian."
I walked behind a pine tree, leaned over, and blew nearly a quarter-cup of musty fluid onto the grass.

I'm livin' the dream folks.

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.