THINGS I THINK ABOUT

THREE CHEERS FOR THE DRAGON CAPSULE!

A little less than a year ago, I wrote about how the Dragon Capsule would mark a new chapter in space flight, one where NASA hires private companies to launch its vehicles into space. Instead of paying the Russians, NASA will utilize America companies that pay American workers, and will save a bunch of money in the process. If I'm not mistaken, Space X (the company responsible for the Dragon Capsule) just hauled a bunch of crap into outer space for much cheaper than the shuttle program ever did. So far, the Dragon Capsule has functioned perfectly, launching into orbit, docking with the ISS, and delivering its payload without incident. This is just the beginning of the private space industry -- Virgin Galactic's Spaceship Two is almost ready to start ferrying millionaires around the cosmos. Gooooooo SPACE!

Exergy Tour! 
Yesterday I went down to the Exergy Tour's opening prologue. Most of the time, I don't really get to appreciate the atmosphere at a race; I'm too preoccupied with the task at hand: putting on clothing, applying sun screen, talking tactics, etc. Let me tell you -- it was delightful to simply be a spectator at a bike race. This time I got to enjoy the expo! I wandered around, sampled energy bars, and thanked some of our sponsors. I got to schmooze in the VIP tent where I overheard Boise's mayor thanking Exergy's CEO profusely ("James, this is awesome!"). I got to gawk at the riders, the vehicles, and the bikes as they prepared to race. Best of all -- I got to dress in a costume and hoot and holler at the racers as they went by!
 
For once, I was the weirdo wearing a costume yelling at people in spandex (instead of the weirdo wearing spandex getting yelled at by people in costumes). Obviously, yesterday's results were overshadowed by Kristin Armstrong's crash, but despite that awful accident, the event was a smashing success. The weather, the fans, the course (which was by far the most scenic prologue course they could have picked) -- all of it was fantastic. Honestly, it was tough to get on my plane this morning; I was totally swept up with Exergy Tour fever!

Thanks Podium Insight for the photos! 

US Proooooooooooo
Right now I'm on an airplane headed to the US Pro Cycling Championships in Greenville, SC. Somewhere out there lies a red white and blue jersey with Exergy's name on it. I'm not sure if ya'll were paying attention, but did you SEE Freddie Rodriguez at the Tour of California? The guy was riding out of his gourd! He flogged himself relentlessly just to build the kind of fitness he knew he's need at this race (soft-pedal the TT? groupetto up Mt. Baldy? NO WAY! Fred rode for time!). He is absolutely flying right now, and I'm so proud to take the line in support of his quest for a fourth national title. Freddie Rodriguez. Hell yeah.

Half a Tour

As I write this, the Amgen Tour of California is raging up the slopes of Mount Baldy. However, as most of you know, my Amgen Tour of California is over. I was time-cut on Wednesday's stage 4, I drove to Ventura the day after that, and flew home to Boise mid-day yesterday.

It's a tough thing, getting cut from a big race. Any time I'm watching a race on TV, I wish I were participating instead, but it's especially difficult to watch an event that I was competing in only days ago. It was awful, realizing I was dropped beyond all hope. I'm glad there weren't any cameras around to capture the moment when I finally gave up, because I was one upset bike racer -- all that preparation, anticipation, and perspiration, all for naught. I do owe a thank you to Dave and Mike, who hung around the feed zone long enough to collect me, and haul me back to the finish. When I finally got off my bike, I needed a hug, and Dave provided one.

I'm badly disappointed I didn't finish, but I do have some really satisfying memories from the stages I was able to complete. I'll share those at a later date. For now, I want to focus on  supporting Team Exergy through the final stages of the race. I'm so proud of my team: the staff, the sponsors, and of course, my teammates. They're all rising to this challenge, and rising admirably. Personally, my next few days are all about resting properly, and doing everything I can to translate the total ass-kicking I just received into better fitness for the upcoming US Pro National Championships on Memorial day.

Stay tuned.

These Days are Just Packed

I'm so blown away with how full these days are -- California days aren't like other race days. I've got so little time I hardly have time to catch my breath, let alone update my blog. Sorry. Things are only going to get crazier from here too. Stay tuned:

http://www.podiuminsight.com/
http://www.amgentourofcalifornia.com/
http://www.facebook.com/pages/VeloImages/301690895837
http://teamexergy.com/
http://www.facebook.com/teamexergy

Le Tour

Amgen Tour of California 2012. 

I'm sitting on a launch pad, strapped to a rocket, about to blast-off through the stratosphere. I shall leave planet Earth behind and travel to a beautiful yet untamed land, one filled with dangerous creatures and countless hazards. My body shall be exposed to forces I'm not sure it can withstand, and a light shall cast on my soul, illuminating my deepest fears and (hopefully) my greatest strengths. 

I'm scared. I've been battling this gnawing feeling: I'm not good enough. Other guys are better. They're older and wiser, stronger and bolder, younger and more reckless, hungrier, crazier -- and me? I'm just a faker! I'm just a guy! A normal guy in cyclists (tight tight) clothing. I feel like I walked onto the wrong movie set: "Wait -- I thought I was here for the cheesy romantic comedy...where's Seth Rogan? And who are all these super heroes dressed in spandex? Dammit, I'm calling my agent...." My competitors are all ironclad beasts of the bike, born to do nothing but; what if they discover my true identity? 

Then I breathe. And tell myself to calm down. This isn't the first time I've felt like this -- and it won't be the last. It happens every time I'm  exposed to the next layer of competition. Sam, you know what to do. The answer is simple: fake it 'til you make it. Put on your bold face -- the one that, even though you're terrified and KNOW you can't climb that hill fast enough or take that corner hot enough, still knows how to pretend like you can do those things. When the hill gets near, what do the real racers do? The ones who aren't faking it? Well, they move towards the front and jockey for position. They look after their teammates and ride next to them. So that's what I'll do -- even though I'm only pretending. And when the climb starts? They give it hell, and then settle into a rhythm. I can do that too, I guess. And when they start to get dropped? They dig deep, and grit their teeth, and fight like hell, and sprint over the crest, and tuck down the descent, and get in a group, and ultimately claw their way back on -- which, coincidentally, is a lot easier to do if you started the climb in good position alongside your teammates. So you see, pretending to climb a hill fast is pretty much the same thing as climbing a hill fast; the only difference is inside your heart. Fake it 'til you make it...'til you don't need to fake it any more. All I need is one shimmer of my ability to reveal itself in this race, and I know the tide of my self-consciousness will recede, leaving behind what has always been there: confidence. I am a good bike rider. I have worked hard for this. I deserve to be here. 


But can can we get this race started, please?

I went to Applebees yesterday. Not because I was hungry, but because I was bored and Logan was going, and I needed something to occupy my thoughts. We sat down, and ordered water.  I got a half-salad (pear Gorgonzola), nothing more, and so did Logan (chicken Caesar). When was the last time two 20 something dudes walked  into Applebees and bought, collectively, a single salad?

Oh these nerves. 
By this afternoon, it'll be just another bike race (albeit a big one).
But until then, oh god, these nerves. 

Oh look...it's time to get on the bus, and drive to the race start.

Commence autopilot. 

"Ignition in 3....2....."

Hold Please...

And --poof-- just like that, Gila is done, and we're on our way elsewhere. This trip has been a bit of a whirlwind: Boise to Salinas to Tulsa to Fayetteville back to Tulsa to Albuquerque to Silver City to Tucson and finally...back to Boise. I shall rest for four days, and then, just as I've caught my breath, I'll be back on the road.

The final stages of Gila weren't spectacular for Team Exergy. Logan lost contact with the front of the crit with one to go, rendering that stage a dud, but Matt had a very strong ride on the final stage (the dreaded Gila Monster). I was next to useless both days. But here's what you have to keep in mind: we've got bigger fish to fry. California is upon us, and what's past is prologue. Carlos Alzate just showed the country he's red hot at Speedweek. He won the overall, the lap leader's competition, and two of the stages  (read all about the team's magnificent conquest of Speedweek on Ben's blog). Matt is heading into Cali with impeccable form. The team is united, motivated, and prepared. Once we assemble our full strength in California, we shall be a force to be reckoned with. We've just had three straight weeks of hard racing, and after a little rest, should be ready to test ourselves against the world's best. And maybe kick a little ass doing so...

I have to take a moment to thank the wonderful people who hosted Team Exergy over the last month. A small-budget Continental team like ours truly relies on host-housing the make our budget work. Every one of our hosts at the last three races were downright delightful, and I left each race feeling like I'd made friends. After yesterday's stage, Jim and Danielle Moffett had burritos waiting for us, one more taste of New Mexico before hitting the road.

Como se dice "yum" en espanol? 

And then hit the road we did:

Also, here's an amusing video:

Möbius Morning

6:30. Time to get up. 
Rub eyes. Clothes on. Bathroom. 

Kitchen.

In my bowl I chop together a mixture of GoLean Crunch and Marshmallow Oats (the biggest cereal oxymoron on the planet: healthy Lucky Charms). Then comes the milk, to both cereal bowl and coffee cup. The same spoon stirs both. 

I sit down at the table with Christian, careful to avoid a famished and boisterous Red. I know how Red can be before he's been fed; the claw mark down my shin serves as constant reminder. I gulp my coffee, eager to get that caffeine to my brain so I can form complete sentences. Christian and I enjoy each other's company, and talk about today's race. It's a Time Trial. Sixteen miles out-and-back, one stout little hill. Just me and the road against the clock. He asks me technical questions about gearing and number placement, and then we take turns teasing Red. "You wanna eat your FOOD Red? Is it time to eat some DOG FOOD?" Underneath his coat, Red turns a shade of brilliant purple, and loses his doggy mind. He oscillates between bouncing around like a grasshopper on a skillet, and staring at his owner, motionless and laser-focused, willing him to rise and walk towards the food dish. Christian and Red engage in a staring contest. Red's eyes don't flinch, but a high-pitched, nuanced yowl escapes from his voice-box. A hunger song. Christian submits. Red back-flips, overjoyed. 

Christian wishes me good luck and walks out the door to his truck, and eventually to the copper mine where he works. Alone in the kitchen, now with a soggy bowl of marshmallows and fresh cup of coffee, I grab my laptop, and type the following: 


6:30. Time to get up. 
Rub eyes. Clothes on. Bathroom. 

Kitchen.

In my bowl I chop together a mixture of GoLean Crunch and Marshmallow Oats (the biggest cereal oxymoron on the planet: healthy Lucky Charms). Then comes the milk, to both cereal bowl and coffee cup. The same spoon stirs both. 

I sit down at the table with Christian, careful to avoid a famished and boisterous Red. I know how Red can be before he's been fed; the claw mark down my shin serves as constant reminder. I gulp my coffee, eager to get that caffeine to my brain so I can form complete sentences. Christian and I enjoy each other's company, and talk about today's race. It's a Time Trial. Sixteen miles out-and-back, one stout little hill. Just me and the road against the clock. He asks me technical questions about gearing and number placement, and then we take turns teasing Red. "You wanna eat your FOOD Red? Is it time to eat some DOG FOOD?" Underneath his coat, Red turns a shade of brilliant purple, and loses his doggy mind. He oscillates between bouncing around like a grasshopper on a skillet, and staring at his owner, motionless and laser-focused, willing him to rise and walk towards the food dish. Christian and Red engage in a staring contest. Red's eyes don't flinch, but a high-pitched, nuanced yowl escapes from his voice-box. A hunger song. Christian submits. Red back-flips, overjoyed. 

Christian wishes me good luck and walks out the door to his truck, and eventually to the copper mine where he works. Alone in the kitchen, now with a soggy bowl of marshmallows and fresh cup of coffee, I grab my laptop, and type the following: 


...and onward to infinity. 

Sights of Silver City

Just some photos. 

Another Year, Another Mogollon

Today marked my -- ahem-- sixth time up that nasty, foul, rotting, diseased, petulant brute of a climb. The Mogollon (for newbies it's pronounced "mo-goy-OWN" and if you want to read about my earlier misadventures on that hateful mountain, start here). I have very few nice things to say about that climb in the same way that someone who's about to be executed has very few nice things to say about his executioner. I'm sure many executioners are nice guys. They probably coach little league, volunteer at the YMCA, and host poker night for their pals twice per month. But you can't blame the man in the electric chair for harboring a bit of a grudge; the very nature their relationship breeds animosity. Likewise, under different circumstances, I'm sure the Mogollon is a beautiful stretch of road to pedal a bike up. I bet the view is fantastic from up there, and the air is clean, and it feels great to get to the top -- but I wouldn't know because every goddam time I climb that road, I'm seeing stars, and I've just gone so hard I've tricked my body into thinking I'm dying. Here's what it feels like to race to the top of the Mogollon (thanks to Lyne at PodiumInsight):

Tyler just wants to forget...

Matt miiiiight be about to puke. Or maybe he already did...

"Long blue tunnel...so pretty...want to touch the lights..." -- Chris Baldwin

Here's the lightning version of what happened, in haiku form:

Quick break. Easy day.

Fetched some bottles, rode the front.

Dropped on Mogollon.

That's pretty much the same story for everyone else in the race, except for Rory Sutherland who won the thing. Nice job Rory.

What!? My name's RORY! Of course I won. 

It's GILA Time!

We are HERE! Nuevo Mexico! It's GILA TIME!  

So this year, the Tour of the Gila is going to be on the TourTracker. That means an extremely satisfying live feed for the whole race! It has complete rosters, course maps, and general classification standings. Download the app for your phone and watch live race coverage anywhere! GO TOUR TRACKER!

The only gas station for ~100 miles. 

There's a tamale under there...yum.