Bike & Build - 90 mile warmup

Hello from the road!  I am currently in Oklahoma - nearly halfway into my cross country ride from Boston to Santa Barbara with Bike & Build this summer.  It has been fun, exhausting (mostly from leader duties, to say nothing of the biking), and generally awesome.

As we made our way out of the mountains and into the midwest, our days have been getting longer.  A week ago or so was our first century day, followed by a 90 mile day in to Bloomington, IN (famously captured in Breaking Away). 

And lo and behold, when we rolled into town there was a bike race happening a block away from our overnight host.  Well, between peer pressure and my own secret desire to race my bike I decided to sign up for the Women’s Open.  I had 90 miles under my belt already, but that just meant that I was really warmed up, right?

As they started call ups I realized that Becca Finley - of Marian University - was on the line.  Oh crap, I thought, this is going to be really fast and I’m not quite sure how my legs are going to hold up.  And fast it was.  I was hanging on for the first 20 or so minutes until I unfortunately (or fortunately for my legs maybe) got caught behind a crash and lost contact with the peloton.

I spent the last half of the race with a two other riders, then by myself when they clearly didn’t want to work, then with two others that I bridged to.  The racing, however, is not the interesting part.  It was my fan base of 31 Bike & Builders who were cheering at the top of the incline with letters painted on their chests doing coordinated cheers and the wave and ridiculous things on every time I came through.  The announcer took note of the mayhem and spent a couple laps talking about Bike & Build and how I had already biked 90 miles today.

I finished for 20th.  Mehh.  But it was maybe one of the most fun races I’ve done.

I will be sure to post more updates throughout the summer.  Here is a list of fun/crazy/weird things that have happened so far:

-Epic rest stop involving minigolf, rootbeer, ice cream and a train ride through a field

-Given a warning by a sheriff for riding naked (see backwards chamois pic below)

-Free Chuckie Cheese tokens

-Free tickets to the City Museum in St. Louis (maybe the best playground ever!)

-Full on Thanksgiving Dinner in June

-Awesome generosity from our hosts and local restaurants.  We have worked donation magic in nearly every town.  Including free Chipotle in three different cities!

-So much ice cream!

-Ridiculous quad muscles.  And tan lines (although considering that it's me, maybe they should be called burn lines).

And finally, I hate to end on a sad note, but yesterday Paige Hicks, one of the riders on a different Bike & Build route, died after a she was struck by a passing oversized truck.  She was a trip leader and a current student at Brown University.  This is the first death for Bike & Build and the community has come together in a big way to deal with this terrible tragedy.  It is yet another reminder to all cyclist to be aware of their surrounding at all times.  She was on the shoulder of the road, doing all the right things and yet this still occurred.  Please keep her fellow riders and family in your thoughts.  

Ride safe.

-Courtney

Bolivia.

I arrived in Cochbamba, Bolivia about three weeks ago to do some study-abroad development work over the summer. Soonafter finding out that I would be spending six months of this year in South America, I started to worry about how possible it was to keep riding. A few months before leaving, I had learned that Cochabamba has a velodrome and had emailed with a few local cyclists about joining a club team, so I figured I could just start there and see what happened.

After two days, I went to the velodrome, which happens to be in the worst part of Cochabamba. The building itself was only half constructed and seemed sort of abandoned. After walking around the barbed-wire perimeter, I saw the silhouette of a guy walking in the shadows of the bleachers, so I called him over to open the pad-lock. He had one eye. I was alone and very much creeped out, but decided I should probably check it out anyways. The track itself was nice, and he said that sometimes people used it on the weekends. So I decided I´d go back on Sunday, probably with a few friends and pepper spray.

I also re-emailed my cyclist friend, and he said they all meet for drinks once a week at this one bar and that I could meet everyone if I went. After looking through some of his club-team pictures on his¨"Cyclist of Cochabamba" blog, I realized that his team was a masters 50+ all mens team that was the creepiest option yet. I gave up on cycling in Bolivia after that, and instead joined a gym that had spinning class every hour. That would have to suffice.

After about a week at the gym, I was walking through one of the main plazas when I saw two beautiful bikes. One was a BMC and the other a sea-green Bianchi, both with Ultegra shifters. A group of five 40 year-old-ish men were holding them, dressed in regular clothes, just chatting. I guessed it was my last chance to ask about cycling, and they seemed like they might be somewhat serious. After talking to them for a few minutes, I found out that they were on a club team that road mostly on the weekends, usually about 40 miles, sometimes through mountains. Again, it was all middle-age to older men, but they seemed nice enough. Once of them, nicknamed "Conejo¨(or "rabbit"), said he had several bikes that were my size, and the I could rent one from him for the time I was in Bolivia. Yay, things were looking up. He gave me a SCOTT bike, and it fit, and I liked it.

When I went to pick up the bike, Conejo asked me if I had ever heard of a velodrome. I mentioned that I had been on one in Chicago a few times, but never on a track bike. He told me I should take my roadbike to the velodrome that afternoon so I could maybe try track. It was more popular in Cochabamba, and much safer than riding on the city roads. Since I hadn´t been on a bike in about two weeks up until that point, I decided I could just show up and ride in circles and that would be better than nothing.

Once I got there, Conejo pulled me around for about 45 minutes at a pretty fast pace. The altitude was affecting me, but my legs were feeling strong. Once we finished, he led me over to meet the director of Cochabamba track cycling. The director asked me what experience I had and whether I´d be interested in track racing. They were having a race that day, and there was only one other girl signed up, and I could do it on my road bike. I figured it would be a good experience, so I signed up for two events: 500m sprint and a 3K individual pursuit. (Note: all of my track terminology is in Spanish, so if parts of this don´t make sense, that´s probably why.)


After the 500m event, I found out I came in only shortly behind the other girl. I was happy, since she specializes in track racing and I had a slow start. Then I did the individual pursuit and was happy to not have her pass me. Still, I lost to her in both events, as expected. I started messing around on a random track bike that belonged to the velodrome, and found that riding fixed gear bikes is pretty fun. While I was doing that, Conejo called me over. The director told me that this race was actually a qualifying race for Bolivia Track Nationals, and that I had qualified. Nationals was going to be the following weekend. I´d have to learn to ride a track bike, but if I did that I´d get a free Cochabamba kit and probably earn some points for the team. Obviously, I died.

I spent the next few days going to the velodrome after work and figuring out how to not fall on the track. By Tuesday I felt secure enough to do both events with the track bike, and told them Tuesday night I was in. I missed work Wednesday to train a little more. I woke up Thursday morning with my only hope being not to fall during the race.

I spent the morning napping and watching, since my events were in the afternoon. During our lunch break, I started warming up, feeling slow. At that point, nine of my friends showed up to cheer for me, and all of the sudden I started feeling some pressue. I kept wondering what I was doing at Bolivia´s Track Nationals, especially since I had gotten on my first track bike less than a week earlier, wasn´t Bolivian, and could barely pronounce my event names in Spanish. I felt especially out of place once the inauguration ceremonies began and I couldn´t sing the Bolivian national anthem nor recognize any of the provincial politicians that came out. Eventually, I decided it just was an experience and not a big deal. The race was running 3 hours late, but they finally called my first event, individual pursuit, and I went for it.

It was only nine laps, but it was the most exhausting 3K of my life. I´m not sure whether it was because my child-sized helmet was too small or because of the altitude, but I couldn´t breathe. After the first kilometer, I really didn´t think I would finish. Eventually I decided I couldn´t just get off the track at nationals, well, because it was nationals. I kept thinking I would either fall or finish. Finally, I finished.


Because of further race delays, they postponed my second event until the next morning. I couldn´t take another day off work, so I ended up just calling it a day.

Anyways, I met a bunch of locals, and had a lovely time. It was really random, but now I´m interested in track racing in the US. That was probably my first and last nationals experience in any country, but it was really fun, so I´m happy.

The Horrible Insanity of Moving

Allow me to summarize the three biggest things that have happened to me so far this summer:

The Horribly Hilly Hundreds

First off, just a week after finishing finals, I put on a bit of a different cap.

Alright, well not just literally. I turned from being a rider and racer to being an organizer of the Toughest One-Day Challenge Ride in the Midwest. For those of you unfamiliar with the Horribly Hilly, the event (not a race) consists of 100k and 200k routes over some of the steepest, nastiest climbs that southwest Wisconsin has to offer, featuring 5,700 and 10,700 feet of vertical elevation gain, respectively. Five years ago, with the ride having already sold out its 1300 slots, I stepped into the role of an organizer, being a rest stop captain.

Let me tell you: that sucked. Seriously consider your sanity before taking on a similar job.

Four years ago, I was actually planning to ride the darn thing, but before I could sign up, I got roped into being Route Commander, meaning that I was in charge of making sure the routes were not under construction, marking the courses ahead of time, and coordinating SAG vehicles on ride day, among many other tasks. I must have been crazy. I still think I'm crazy.

But four years on, I'm still doing the same job, and loving every minute of it.

Becoming an organizer is a different experience. It allows you to see all the behind-the-scenes goings-on that it takes to put on a bicycle ride/race. It really gives you an appreciation for the volunteers at any of these events, without which, our racing would not be possible. It allows you to lose a significant amount of sleep (in the years I've been doing this, I have stayed up for periods of 44 and 39 hours straight).

But most of all, it allows you to meet new people. My interest in HAM radio is a direct result of the HHH, and I couldn't be more thankful for that experience. Electronics geekery aside, I highly recommend that everyone finds at least one event to volunteer and give back at. It is highly worth it.

The Insane Terrain Challenge

The second major event put on by the Viking Biking Club (which explains the horns in the first photo) is the Insane Terrain Challenge. Not satified with only 10,700 feet of climbing in 124 miles, the designer of the Horribly Hilly set out to create a route with at least 100 feet of climbing per mile.

With the Insane Terrain, he succeeded.

My involvement with the HHH punched my free ticket to ride the ITC. I learned this on Thursday before the event, meaning I had two days to prepare for the 125k, 7,800 ft epic.

Thursday night, I decided to go and test my fitness on my favorite hill for repeats. It's been a few years since I've done repeats on it, but a few years ago, while I still had my fitness from being a ski racer, I would do 5 x 5 min intervals, which would take me to the top of the hill, and be hard as hell.

Thursday, I did 5 * 3:45. I think I'm going to need a bigger hill.

With the reassurance that I was actually on form, I started out last Saturday at 6:30 AM. I soon found out there is one thing in any ride that I absolutely cannot stand:

Big guys who can climb.

It upsets the natural order of things! Skinny guys are climbers, big guys are sprinters (or just guys like Alphonse in the new Lance commercials), and guys in between are just wankers at both. Everybody knows that! That's exactly the reason I don't typically go for sprints, and you don't see Clydesdales winning mountain stages.

But this guy was just unbelievable.

First off, he could just waste me on the downhills, which was to be expected, as he had a bit of an advantage in potential energy. We didn't actually ride together until after the last water stop, when I stopped to refill a bottle knowing that it was going to be freakin' hot, and he didn't. We got into a pattern of him getting away on the downhill, me catching back up halfway up the next climb, and riding together up the rest of the climb and on the few flatter sections of the course. This continued until I think 3 major climbs to go, when something amazing happened.

The guy dropped me. Flat out dropped me.

I was dropped on a climb by a Giant-factory-team-kit wearing Clydesdale. WTH?

I wasn't even feeling bad. The entire ride so far had gone great. Moving in a pack of mostly fast 200k riders, we covered 19.5 miles in the first hour (with several big climbs included in that stretch). I was one of the first few 125k riders, and up until meeting with this guy, I was pretty much alone after the 125/200k split, with not so much as another rider, car, or even a farm in sight. We were in the middle of nowhere, and it was very peaceful. I felt like I was on a long, solo breakaway.

Until Mr. Giant (the bikes, not the rider's physique) ruined it.

I still managed a decent time (despite this not being a race) of 5 hours, which could have been a bit better had I not been suffering on the final climb up Mounds Park Road (Nats riders - that was the last climb you did). Somehow, I made it to the top, and someone took a sweet shot of me trying to post up in my polka-dots before nearly falling over due to going 6 mph. Alas, I have yet to find said shot, but you can be assured it was full of awesomeness - just for the Womens.

Moving

If you haven't figured out the title of this rather lengthy post by now, each word refers to one of three events. Which means the third event is an upcoming move.

That's right. In about a month and half, I'm packing up my stuff, and moving here.

Sylmar, CA (click on image to hugeify).

There are two things I immediately notice about where I'll be living:

1) It'll be hotter than bejesus.

2) Mountains!

The reason I'm moving out there is a co-op position with St. Jude Medical. It's a 6 month position, meaning it will basically take up Fall and Winter quarters before spitting me out for my final quarter at NU.

While I'm saddened that this won't give me a chance to see Northwestern's fledgling mountain bike team succeed (other than at Michigan Tech), the opportunity to come directly into Spring Break as a lean(er), mean racing machine makes it totally worthwhile. I'll have to trade the ChiCrossCup for the SoCal Cross series, the Velodynes for actually riding outside, and Walker Brothers Rides for . . . well, nothing compares to the Walker Bros. rides. Maybe surfing. I'm stoked on getting to surf again.

Shaka!

The Great Egyptian Omnium

This was originally posted to my blog, http://prowanker.blogspot.com/

With Lance crashing three times in a single TdF stage and Interpol hot on his case, it’s easy to get caught up in the negativity. Between the doping, cancelled races, folding teams, bickering riders, and charisma-less stars,the sport has certainly seen better days.

The “Clinic” section of Cyclingnews.com Forums may be thriving, but cycling isn’t—not when Riccardo Ricco is still winning stage races.

Add to that my declining form and a crash rate that has smashed my Wankability Index to 56, and it’s easy to become disillusioned.

But then, cycling surprises. Like Lance in 1999, it comes smashing out of memory and into our hearts.

I may vomit when an unabashed doper receives a call-up at ToAD, but I also cannot help but thanking people like Chad Briggs and Gary Dahmer for their generous support.

As an Abitibi veteran, I’m used to sleeping in weird places with strange things. I’ve fallen off of desks and on to aero helmets, insisted on hugging handlebars to sleep, and have shared a bed with more than three people.

Naturally then, waking up on a race weekend to a breakfast of peach covered cinnamon french toast in bed was startling.

But the most startling part of the entire weekend was just how things came together. A great race promoter—Chad Briggs—made life easy for me and my cycling friends from Lindenwood.

First offering us his floor and then arranging accommodations at the Davie School Bed and Breakfast through Gary, he made sure we were more than well taken care of.

And then he found some of the coolest roads to race on in Illinois. Between sharp rollers, long climbs, smooth and safe descents, and winding roads, he put together one of the most enjoyable road racing courses I’ve ever ridden. In addition, he put on a painfully tough and technical TT and a genuine downtown crit.

Yes, the fields were small, the drive was long, and the payout was not SuperWeek sized. But in years to come, I hope to see more people make the drive. Between the great courses and dedication of the promoters and sponsors, the Great Egyptian will only grow and continue to impress.

I know I'll be back.