bikelovejones

inspiration

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 16:59:37 GMT

This image perfectly demonstrates both my off-road roots and my reasons for wanting to race now.

This is the BMX ~~legend~~ god Stu Thomsen, circa late 1970's, racing with what was then state-of-the-art gear. This is what BMX looked like when I was a kid, and although I was riding a department-store Huffy that looked almost exactly like this:

I rode it with those same BMX dreams at the back of my mind.

It had been a Chanukah gift when I was eleven. I was in a growth spurt and already a little too tall for it, but I didn't care. It was the closest I'd ever get to having a BMX bike and I rode it everywhere. As soon as I'd put enough dirt on the bike that my folks wouldn't notice, I stripped off the fenders and chainguard (MY Huffy didn't come with the fake motor sound "throttle" but I would've stripped that off too). I couldn't do anything about the coaster brake so I adapted my riding style to work around it as much as possible. As a result, my off-road style today does not show much backpedaling at all. I learned to commit to every forward pedal stroke and to measure where my feet were so I wouldn't accidentally apply the brake.

It was funky but I made it work. I rode this bike to school every day. Every Saturday and most Sunday mornings in fair weather I could be spotted on the dirt berms behind our Concord, CA apartment complex, skidding and jumping the baby-whoops and crashing, and then forcing myself NOT to cry if it hurt, and getting up and trying it again. Because it was 1974 and I was a girl, I did most of my riding alone. The boys wanted nothing to do with me and the girls thought I was a freak. The racing pants and jersey were way beyond me -- and in my un-athletic family, a visit to the local BMX track was never going to happen either. My parents simply didn't care. They thought my love of off-road bicycling (and skateboarding) was a phase that I'd outgrow when I saw my first cute boy.

That never really happened. So every weekend I'd be out on the berms clad in blue jeans, a sweatshirt, tennies and a thrift-store football helmet (with the faceguard removed and the screw-holes filled in with putty it almost looked like a BMX helmet), seeing how far I could make my bike skid out in the dirt and trying not to crash.

Early on I knew I would not be a freestyler, or a dirt-jumper looking for big air. I dreamed of racing the oval track at the motorcycle park, jumping out of the gate and looking for the holeshot and leaning over into the curves as far as I could without falling, and motoring my way across the finish line.

This is the image that has carried me into racing. And even though today I am older, and MUCH slower, I have had a blast reconnecting with my scrawny, lanky, 11-year-old self again. Because even though I'm older and bigger and slower, my body still remembers how to take the corners and how to throw my weight back behind the saddle on the drop-downs. And this is what will bring me back for more next spring.

Have a great off-season, everyone.

breaking news: congress lays an egg for christmas

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 01:52:29 GMT

In the latest twist in this sick joke called health care reform, the Democrats are making it official:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091215/ap_on_go_co/us_health_care_overhaul

That's right. First they let go of the public option. In its place they had offered instead a lowering of the age limit for Medicare, but apparently that's not good enough for the moderates who are threatening to vote with Republicans. The Congress is eating out of the hand of the health insurance lobby and you don't bite the hand that feeds you.

So if this flawed legislation becomes law, it will not include a public option for anyone. It will demand that everyone become subject to the worst, most invasive governmental scrutiny so that the government can not only require us to buy private health insurance, they also get to tell us how much they think we should pay for it.

Without a public option and without any safeguards against overcharging customers for preexisting conditions, Congress and the president have made it very clear who they serve. And it isn't you or me. So fuck them, and fuck this law.

But fret not! In truth I suspect it won't pass.

Here's what I think will happen: Liberal Democrats won't back down from lowering the Medicare age, meaning they won't get enough votes to pass the bill out of the Senate and Congress will have dodged the impossible bullet of having to provide -- and enforce -- national health care. Because I think most members of Congress already know what a clusterfuck this bill would entail if it did pass. Can you imagine trying to enforce this if it becomes law? Requiring everyone to buy health insurance and then enforcing fines if they can't/don't would take thousands of workers and law enforcement officials basically swarming across the country and getting into the affairs of every man, woman and child. That's an impossibility, and I think the members of Congress know it. Or at least they should.

So the reality is that I'm not too worried. The government doesn't have the resources or time to come after 45 million little people like me, and in the end I think the legislation will fail. When it does, our elected officials will breathe a sigh of relief, shrug their collective shoulders in a pretense of regret ("Hey, we tried,"), and get back to the business of making money and leaving me the hell alone.

Chag Sameach 5770

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 20:12:33 GMT

If you're lighting candles and gambling heavily for chocolate coins tonight, Happy Chanukah!

~~We're leading services at shul tonight~~ Services were canceled because of an impending storm front bringing freezing rain to Portland "sometime this evening". As of 10pm it hasn't quite arrived but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. No matter what, the weeklong party swing begins tomorrow night.
Cheers!

results

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 18:45:41 GMT

1. Stompy, version 2.0 arrived at the shop this week. I went in last night and assembled it out of the box.
A few aspects of the frameset are slightly disappointing. I may have to use V-brakes because the reach of the cable with the cantis I'd selected just isn't long enough to make me happy (there's a TON of clearance between the top of the 2.0 tire and the bottom of the fork crown).
Also, the cranks that come with this bike are shockingly heavy (but I knew that already). They will be replaced with the cranks from the Kona.
Finally, The handlebar stem will have to be changed along with the bars -- clamp size is the annoying 31.8 and won't take the FU2-bars from the Kona.
At any rate, the bike DOES fit me better than the Kona and once I lighten it up I think it will handle very well, especially on the short-track course!
Still, I have to figure out the brakes. I'd really like to use cantis but may have to go with a wide-profile version so I can use a longer straddle cable. (Feel free to suggest faves, readers, but please keep it affordable and alloy...)
Of course, this means I'll probably have to alter my dismount style. Another detail.
Photos will follow when bike is fully set up. But you should know it's a very pretty blue (and they even tossed in a bottle of touch-up paint!).

2. I submitted my OBRA renewal today. Thanks to all who shared their opinions with me, especially the two ladies from my team whose insights were especially helpful. I have signed up to race in the Singlespeed category next year. I could have stayed a Beginner but that would've been slightly dishonest. I HAVE learned a lot about how racing works, and I AM more comfortable racing with other people even if I finish last. I just think it's better for the next wave of true Beginners if I cat up with everyone else. Going straight to Singlespeed is the more honest approach, especially since I'm trying to grow a womens Singlespeed category at Cross Crusade next fall. Even if I learn how to train a little and I still finish DFL, it feels more honest to cat up this way. If I can't get a womens SS category going next year, then it'll be me, five other women and three hundred men, and I'll just cope.

2010: cat up, or not?

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 17:08:00 GMT

OBRA sent out its electronic newsletter for 2010 this week. Included is a PDF file of the 2010 registration form. I've been told that registration fees will not go up, so it will still cost me only 20 bucks to register for both short-track and 'cross. The question is: do I cat up? And if so, to what?

To explain: OBRA does not require me to upgrade out of the Beginner category after only a year. I think this has something to do with my age group. However, social convention dictates that it's better to upgrade to your appropriate category after one year as a Beginner. And this seems like a fair and reasonable expectation to me. While I remain dreadfully slow, I have learned a lot about racing in my first full season, and with the sport growing as it is, it does make more sense for me to "cat up", even if it means I get completely hammered by the competition.

So the question remains: Masters 45+ or Singlespeed?

If I cat up to my masters age group, I'll be in a pretty small field of women in my age group (45-54) who can all completely kick my butt. I will get lapped faster and more often, and perhaps get credit for completing fewer laps before time is called in a given race.

If I cat up to Singlespeed, I'll be in an enormous field that will contain perhaps four or five women and about three hundred men who can all completely kick my butt. I will get lapped faster and more often, and perhaps get credit for completing fewer laps when time is called in a given race.

The difference is that I get more props, more encouragement, for racing on my singlespeed bike. I will also be racing with folks who will mostly attack the hills the same way I have to because we're all riding singlespeed. At most races this will mean that I will be racing with a large Singlespeed field and an equally large Mens' B field, since the two categories usually race at the same time. But overall I'll have fewer geared bikes to contend with in the field.

Another option would be to remain a Beginner and race on my singlespeed bike. Not sure how I would feel about this, based on both my desire for growth and the reality of the local sport's growth.

I have some time before I have to re-up for next year, but at this point I'm leaning towards what seems like the most masochistic option: cat up to Singlespeed and suffer with plenty of company.

Feel free to opinionate on this, especially if you race.

follow-up to race report: random musings

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 06:23:53 GMT

A few final details, apropos of nothing:

1. My knee warmers SUCKED. Dear DeFeet: the Kneeker is a lovely leg warmer, all toasty warm and soft, but it falls down when I just LOOK at it. Knee warmers that fall down are useless. Knee warmers that fall down when it's 30 degrees outside are tragic. I had painful, red bands across my thighs for three hours after my race. I suppose I could've worn my old wool tights but they would've been heavier and bulkier than the knee warmers. So instead I'm complaining. Next year I hope to find a better solution.

2. My timing chip results, reflecting USA Cycling's point of view on how I did:

Pos	No.	Name	Laps	Total time	Diff	Best time	In lap	Best speed

804

Beth HAMON

32:58.167

11:03.014

13:20.171

12.462

(courtesy of MyLaps)

I find this interesting, since OBRA gave me credit for completing three laps and obviously USA Cycling did not. Since OBRA has a virtual no-pull policy and USA Cycling pulls lapped riders at the drop of a hat (at least in other parts of the country, from what I'm told), I'm guessing that OBRA gave me credit for riding even though time had been called; and USA Cycling docked me a lap since they couldn't/wouldn't pull me from an OBRA race. Since USA Cycling doesn't even acknowledge a Womens' Beginner category, I'll go with OBRA's decision and politely -- VERY politely, mind you -- thumb my nose at USA Cycling. Yes, it took me longer than 30 minutes to finish my last lap, but only by about three minutes. I'm giving myself a break here. (I hope the fifteen or so other beginner women racers who got docked a lap will give themselves a break, too, or at least some credit for riding three challenging laps.)

3. I'll repeat a question I asked yesterday, this time in hopes of getting a reasonable answer: why were there only TWO barriers at the USGP races? I'm not talking two SETS of barriers, I'm talking two barriers, total. I have been laboring under the impression that cyclocross involves run-ups, tons of off-camber stuff, and barriers galore. That's what gives it it's unique flavor among the racing disciplines. At the Cross Crusade races, we usually had at least four barriers (I never saw the legendary "six-pack" this season), plus other fun features that required quite a bit of footing it around the courses. So why was the USGP course such a, well, ROADIE-feeling enterprise? Is this a trend in cyclocross? Discuss.

4. The final shot, of me at my final race of 2009, with thanks to photographer Shane Young:

(copyright 2009 Oregon Velo, used by permission)

race report: usgp portland cup

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 04:18:06 GMT

While Sweetie and Devon (my VB teammate who I hosted for the weekend) slept, I left the house when it was still dark, because the jokers at USA Cycling insisted that even the OBRA racers check in no less than an hour before start time -- meaning I had to get there before 7:45 am! Ugh! After a Cross Crusade season of 2 pm races, the early morning start was a jolt. I rode to PIR from my house in the dark, 30 degrees and a deeply chilling fog, pedaling briskly and worrying that I would never get warm. I checked in, parked my bag at the corner of the tent of a friendly pro team, and did some warmup laps in the parking area. As I gradually ramped up the pace and did a few hot laps, I noted with envy the team tents with their trainers and portable heaters, with riders sheltered from some of the cold and fog. I couldn't get warm doing hot laps so I parked my bike and went jogging. That helped, along with the coffee I'd brought.

Finally, it was time to stage up. Still cold and foggy at 8:45. Because I'd pre-registered so early for this race, I was called up to the front row of the combined B/Beginner women. I found myself wishing I could be further back -- I've never gotten comfortable with the close quarters found in 'cross and I almost always let faster riders go around me.

Best pre-race moment: During call-ups, a rider clad in a very pro-looking skinsuit and riding a brand-new carbon bike looked at my bike, realized it was a singlespeed, and leaned over to ask softly, "Singlespeed? Are you serious?" I smiled and nodded. It will very likely shorten my racing career but I intend to race singlespeed exclusively until I'm done. Besides, what kind of a "career" should I realistically expect to have at this point? I may as well have fun out there.

Heintz and Julie surprised me by showing up to see me race. It was SO nice to have friends there cheering me on, especially since I hadn't expected anyone to come out so early in the day. They joked with me at the staging area and took my jacket just before the whistle blew.

The course, which I had pre-ridden a little bit Friday afternoon, was now cold and mostly hard. After a ferocious straightaway start on pavement, we veered off into the "back forty" where it's mostly grass and a little gravel here and there. This was a long, flat section that was designed to spread the group out and separate the leaders clearly. It wore me down, and I didn't even bother to pretend that I could keep up with anyone. I slid off the back in about ten seconds and accepted my fate. Where the mud had softened there was still frozen mud underneath, which made for slick handling in some corners. And there was, to my delight, another little drop-down, not unlike Barton Park's but shorter and steeper. Portions of the short-track course were utilized, including the rhythm section and a couple of the berms on the moto course. Back in the single track section in the trees, the course was laid out to force a number of tight, off-camber turns in the mud, many of which I walked because they were so steep and sudden I couldn't maneuver them on my bike without losing momentum.

I suffered intensely, both physical mini-bonks and emotional waves of self-doubt. The relentless cold and damp from the fog were taking a huge toll on me and I worried I would not be able to finish. My knee popped a little painfully on the second lap and I wanted to stop right then and there. But at the top of a run-up I told myself, "I can do anything for 45 minutes" (never mind that the race was only 30 under USA Cycling rules). I shook out my legs, got back on my bike and pushed myself to keep pedaling. There was lots of encouragement from early morning watchers and from racers warming up on rollers at the side of the course, and I can't begin to say how much that helped. I finally realized I could do it when I began my third lap, and I pushed on, knowing that OBRA officials would not pull me but instead would allow me to complete my final lap. (Thank you, OBRA!)

I finished Dead Effing Last, behind every woman and every junior. Yes, even the ten-year-olds kicked my butt. And I didn't care. I was so happy to have made it, I almost cried as I pushed hard to the finish line. But I knew that, although I'd signed up to race both days of usgp, I could not possibly come back Sunday morning and do this again. It would simply be too much for my body. I wasn't even too bothered by the loss of the race fee (though I know now I'll probably never sign up to race more than once a weekend!). I just knew that I had reached my utmost limit and it would be unwise to force myself to go beyond it.

Heintz and Julie met me at the finish with my jacket, snapped my photo and patiently waited while I hosed down my bike and changed into dry clothes. We chatted for awhile, and I suddenly realized that I needed to sit down and eat something real, so they went off to watch some more racing and I said I'd go look for them later. But I was so spent that all I could do was find an empty folding chair in the big tent and eat my thermos of soup. I spent the rest of the morning recovering from my efforts, and eventually collected myself enough to realized I hadn't seen much of Heintz and Julie. I looked for them a bit, couldn't find them, and then it was time to go and see if I could be of help to Devon as she began her preparations for her race. She told me she was fine, that I should just grab my cowbell and enjoy watching the race. I positioned myself between the barriers (why were there only TWO for the entire course? I thought 'cross was about run-ups and barriers. I don't get the lack of barriers at such a big race) and the pit so I could get a good vantage point of most of the course. Watching the more advanced racers was amazing, especially the way they cleared the barriers (watching Tina Brubaker take barriers was like watching ballet, she was so smooth and it was all the more amazing since she's so short. I remembered her tutoring me on dismounts at the early-season 'cross clinics and smiled). Everytime a Bella passed (and there were several, including Devon, Marian, Kari and another whose name escapes me), I yelled loudly and cheered them on. I hope it helped. After the race, I helped Devon clean her bikes and stow them so she could change and watch the men's elite race before we headed home.

I fell asleep very quickly, and early -- went to bed around 9:30 and everything was sore and tired.

Better today, even after a second day at the races (I went to watch and to be Devon's helper in the pit, as her previous helper wasn't available today). It was great fun to watch the racing, hang out with a couple of reps I normally see in a work context, and chat with Joel after his race (true to form, Joel was sad that there wasn't any rain -- or mud). Today was sunny, hard and bright all day with none of the early morning fog from Saturday. But it was colder, too -- and there was a wind that chilled me through to the bones. OUCH! I dressed for the weather -- wool jerseys and long underwear beneath jeans, boots and a blanket-lined jacket -- but I was still freezing cold most of the day. Hot soup, a waffle and regular stops by the coffee cart helped a lot. But by the end of the mens' elite race I was more than ready to go home and thaw out.

And that's the end of my first full season of racing. In nine races (including short-track and 'cross) I finished mostly dead last, DNF'd once, crashed once and, although it was impossibly hard, I had the time of my life. I'll definitely be back next year. And I'd like to figure out how to do it even a tiny bit better so that maybe -- at least a couple of times anyway -- I'm not the last one in.

(three laps!)

weather for usgp portland: cold and dry (??!)

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 06:02:07 GMT

Here's the forecast for this weekend:

Fri Dec 4
Sunny - High 48°, Low 31°

Sat Dec 5
Sunny - High 44°, Low 31°

Sun Dec 6
Rain / Snow Showers - High 38°, Low 24°

In other words, it will be unseasonably cold and dry for Portland this time of year. Although I have pre-registered for both Saturday and Sunday, I am very nervous about racing in such cold conditions. I am going to do my utmost best on Saturday, and if there's any cause for concern after the race I will turn in my timing chip right there and then, and not race on Sunday. There's no reason for me to risk my health when I'm a weekend warrior and not a professional athlete.

I'm anticipating wearing more clothing this weekend than at previous 'cross races: long-sleeved wool jersey under my Velo Bella lycra jersey (and perhaps some arm warmers under those long sleeves as well!); shorts covered by wool tights; wool cap under my helmet and wool gloves -- forget the neoprene jobs, they simply won't keep my hands warm enough during an 8:45 am race. I'm sure my bike shoes will be okay -- they're water-resistant and with the wool socks they certainly kept my feet warm enough in the mud the last time I raced at PIR. I'm planning to bring very warm, dry clothing to change into after my race, plus a thermos each of soup and coffee to keep warm. I have friends racing in later heats and unless I actually feel sick after my race, I'd like to stay and cheer them on.

It's going to be a cold weekend for a bike race.
All you folks in Minnesota can stop laughing now.

tried and liked: 2009

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 18:37:50 GMT

Time again for my lists of things I tried this year and liked:

1. Racing. This was simply the best thing I could've tried this year. Like many women my age, I was passively discouraged from participating in sports by parents who cared about my academic and musical accomplishments but were largely indifferent to my dreams of athletic greatness. Finally, all the factors (job, income, time, supportive spouse) lined up to allow me to explore bicycle racing as more than a passing fancy. Four short-track races and six (as of this weekend) 'cross races have shown me that, although I'll never set the world on fire, I AM capable of pushing myself to do things I hadn't previously thought possible, and that Crohn's doesn't have to prevent me from doing so. Although I've done longer distance cycling for years and have been a bike commuter since childhood, racing is by far the most challenging, exciting and social bicycling activity I've ever undertaken. Even when I finish dead last, I LIKE being a bicycle racer and I LOVE the rock-star exhilaration that comes at the end of a race. I'll be back for more.

2. Klean Kanteen Insulated Bottle. A recent acquisition through my role as product tester for the shop. The Insulated bottle fits (albeit snugly) in my steel bottle cage (I recommend the Delta "Inox" style, available at most shops). It keeps coffee hot for four hours and pleasantly warm for up to seven. Plus, the wide mouth makes this bottle very easy to clean.

3. Metal fenders. For years I've used nothing but plastic fenders on my bikes. I liked the light weight and their ability to withstand denting and rattling. Then, the Rivvy turned ten over the summer and demanded something, um, prettier. So I gave in and installed a set of Velo Orange alloy fenders. One of my beefs with aluminum fenders has been the price -- hand-hammered, Japanese-made Honjos retail for a hundred bucks! -- and the fact that you have to measure and drill them yourself. I've installed three sets of Honjos for customers and it's a bitch. The smart folks over at VO figured out how to make tthe fenders more affordable (don't hammer texture into them, and make them in Taiwan instead) and how to simplify installation (pre-drill them at the logical point for attaching the stays). I ordered mine when there was only a matte finish available; now a polished version of the fender is available as well. Retail on these is less than fifty bucks a set, with all the hardware (though you need to get leather or rubber washers separately -- I made my own leather washers out of scraps but VO sells them pre-cut). They don't rattle too badly, even for a fender with only a single stay; AND they do add a nicer touch to my bike than the black plastic fenders ever did.

4. Embrocation (see: Racing). Because cyclocross happens in the fall, the weather can change noticeably from weekend to weekend, having a disastrous effect on aging knees. Enter embrocation, a warming paste applied to the legs before a colder-weather ride. Depending on the strength of the compound (which usually uses capsicum as the warming agent), the tingling sensation may feel intense at first. Repeated use of embrocation during a racing season will result in increased tolerance for the capsicum, which is why I now own three tins of the stuff in mild, medium and hot mixtures. Several companies produce embrocation specifically for cyclists; my favorite is the locally-made, all-natural NW Kneewarmers brand. Tolerance fades after discontinuing use for several weeks, so by next September I'll want the mild stuff again.

5. Misfit Psycles FU-2 Handlebar. This swept-back ATB bar makes any mountain bike comfortable. I am upgrading my ATB frame for next season and these bars will get swapped over. I may never use another ATB bar again.

6. Lycra. Yes, I know. Friends who are used to seeing me in old-school wool jerseys and home-made knickers are shocked to see me squeeze myself into my Velo Bella team kit for races. I've dug up old jerseys from PSU and my old time-trialing [Cyclisme] days, for training rides. Add padded shorts, helmet, and knee or leg warmers on the coldest days, and suddenly I look like a middle-aged, monochrome praying mantis. If you are going to race in lycra, even just for fun, you simply have to get over yourself quickly. Lycra does make a difference when the whole idea is to ride as unencumbered as possible. If you change into street clothes as soon as you're done riding, you won't stink. Most of my lycra cycling togs I got used, through Goodwill and other sources. Shorts are the general exception as I prefer to get these new (though the "used" VB team shorts I got were hardly used at all by their previous owner).

My primary beef with lycra is that finding stuff to fit my body is hard, especially since my all-womens' team offers no options for mens' jerseys and most womens' jerseys are too short for my torso and too snug for my chest. (Apparently the idea of any women with a chest size larger than 36" purporting to call herself a bicycle racer is simply too much for most clothing manufacturers. The nerve of those women.)

But I digress.

7. Farmers' Markets. This one could technically be considered a kind of cheating, since I live with a Gastrophile (was this a word? It is now) who cares deeply about what we eat; going to the farmers' market is pretty much de rigeur in our house. But this year I started going with Sweetie on a regular basis and, well, it's a great place to find locally-grown produce. Not only is the stuff super-fresh, it's usually organic (but not always -- check!) and if you go regularly you can get to know the farmers who grow it on a first-name basis. As for cost, many of the vegetables you find at farmer's markets are the same price or cheaper than some of the organically-grown produce you'd find at the supermarket. Sweetie and I like to ride our bikes to the Hollywood market in season; we also enjoy the markets at Portland State and in the Alberta neighborhood. Developing this kind of relationship with food and the people who grow it encourages me to think differently about what I eat, and helps to nurture more local economies of scale that I think are vital to a healthier and more sustainable way of living.

8. Growing more food at home. While this may seem counter-intuitive to # 7, it's not. We're simply growing stuff at home that we eat a lot of -- things like potatoes, carrots, parsnips and beets, tomatoes and lettuce. The other stuff, or stuff we want when our stuff isn't ready yet, or stuff that didn't work out that year for whatever reason, we get at farmers' markets. Do we save a lot of money growing our own vegetables? I think we save at least a little; certainly we spend money on the things we need to prep the beds and the gas that's required to travel thirty miles to get free horse manure. But overall I think there's probably a savings. And the food we grow tastes fresher than anything I've bought in a store.

I'm sure more ideas will pop up before the end of the year but these are the biggies.

post-thanksgiving, pre-usgp

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 06:11:10 GMT

Got home tonight from a lovely weekend spent with Sweetie and her parents in the small California town they retired to a few years ago. The only "cycling" I did all weekend was about fifteen minutes worth of cardio warm-up on a stationary bike at mom-in-law's gym, followed by a 50-minute session of yoga. (Sweetie and I started doing yoga together a few weeks ago and we really like it.) The rest of the time we all hung out together, walked the beach several times, delivered Thanksgiving meals to elderly, housebound folks in the area, and enjoyed a delicious home-made meal ourselves.

Now that I'm back and will be riding to work this week, what else should I do to prepare for USGP, my last cyclocross anything of the year? As far as a "training plan", I don't really have a clear one. Especially after five days of not riding.

Riding to and from work Monday through Wednesday, I assume; and if I can possibly sneak out to PIR on Thursday mid-morning I'll probably try to get in my little pre-ride then, rather than wait for the official pre-ride time on Friday afternoon. Sweetie and I are hosting a Velo Bella member from California who will arrive sometime Friday. If she gets here in time we'll go out to PIR and she can do her pre-ride while I walk the finished course. I've signed up for both Saturday AND Sunday and hopefully I'll be able to do both days.
We'll see what happens. Other than yoga and stretching and some crunches every couple of days, I've done little else to, um, "train" for this. Assuming I do it again next year -- and I know I want to -- I'm going to have to find a way to actually train (and maybe someone to teach me how, so I don't hurt myself).

All I know is that I refuse to DNF again at [expletive deleted] PIR, even if I have to drag the bike across the finish line in my teeth.

bikes on da brain

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 16:30:13 GMT

Like anyone getting into a new cycling discipline, the idea has come to me that perhaps there's a bike out there that's more appropriate to my size and riding style.

This discussion came about during, of all things, a telephone discussion with one of my wholesale reps. I was scrolling through the distro's Web site looking for a part, when I accidentally clicked on their bike offerings and found THIS:

(Redline MonoCog, 26" wheel version)

While I love Stompy, the truth is that the bike is heavy, even for a singlespeed bike, and I've spent half my 'cross season wondering if there's a better bike out there for me. Since my style is more mountain than road, it's highly unlikely that I will ever race 'cross on a skinny-tired, drop-bar bike, unless that bike can take ridiculously fat tires and works with an upright bar. Velo Bella's bike sponsor (Ellsworth) doesn't make singlespeed 'cross bikes; and their singlespeed mountain offering has disc brakes, a shock fork and 29'er wheels. Not for me. Soooo -- I asked about this Redline and was told that, not only is it a good bike for the money, but if i want to buy it through the shop I can get a screaming deal on it. My price would be below wholesale. I asked for some time to do some research on it before deciding and was told that would be no problem.

So I'm kicking it out to my readers who ride a lot.

Here's my criteriae for a singlespeed bike:

1. Must take 26" atb wheels, so I can do both short-track AND 'cross on it. (29'ers look like fun, but dragging them over barriers is not, especially when you're 5' 7".) If I cannot loop my arm through the triangle 'cross style, I have to be able to reach comfortably over the top tube to grab the downtube (like I do with Stompy) and run with it under my armpit.

2. Must take V or Cantilever brakes (so I can race 'cross). I don't want a disc brake bike, and I'm not big enough to need one.

3. Must be fully rigid and fully steel.I know this will make for a heavier bike, but if I'm looking at something newer it should still weigh less than my 14-year-old Kona. Hopefully.

4. Must be easily upgradable and convertible. If I find the right frame I will gladly swap over my existing parts (I'm especially fond of my Truvativ cranks and bottom bracket; the Stylo crankset is impossible to find in 170mm length now). I will also expect to swap in a shorter stem and my Misfit bars.

The other option would be to look for a used 'cross frame and build it up as a singlespeed with 700c wheels that take REALLY fat tires. It would be sort of like a 29'er, but I'd be able to carry it like a 'cross bike (arm looped through the main triangle with hand draped over the handlebar) on the run-ups, which I cannot do with a mountain frame.

I'd really like to keep this at around 300 bucks, either for a whole bike or a decent frameset.
I welcome suggestions or offers.

morning-after thoughts: cross crusade

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 16:12:03 GMT

Cross Crusade is over for the year. The series ended with yesterday's Barton Park races. I am sad. Just when I was beginning to get the hang of it, and getting to know some really nice folks, it's done.

..::sigh::..

Random thoughts on the season and on yesterday's race.

What worked:

1. Embrocation. Although it wasn't as cold or wet as it had been at PIR, putting on embrocation just made everything a little bit nicer. Putting on leg warmers over freshly-embrocated legs warmed me up just enough. It was still cold enough that I decided to leave the leg warmers on for the race, and perhaps that's why I didn't have as much of a post-shower tingle in my knees afterwards; more of the stuff probably stayed on the inside of the leg warmers. Still, this stuff is really cool and I'm a believer. So are a couple of nice kids at Team Beer that I shared my embrocation with.

2. My clothing choices. I DID get a little bit of a chill before callups, but I just kept doing little warmup laps near the start chutes until the last possible minute, with my rain jacket on. Finally, just before Beginner women were called up, I shed my rain jacket, hung it on a bit of fence wire, and was fine for the race. My jacket was waiting for me when I finished, and it went back on immediately until I could get back to the tent and change into dry clothing. Staying warm is key for these November races.

3. Not worrying about other racers. While I definitely felt a competitive "fire", it was all about how I could be stronger and improve my bike-handling techniques, and not about the other women passing me right and left. I'm older and slower than most of the women, and they are going to pass me. Once I accepted that reality I could get on with enjoying my race for what it was: a chance to ride hard and play in the mud.

4. My gut. Yesterday my gut was quite cooperative, with no grumbling to speak of. Racing when you have active Crohn's disease is, frankly, a crapshoot (sorry). You can plan your racing calendar and sign up but there is no ironclad guarantee that your body will be in the mood on the appointed day. I think that was part of what happened at PIR last week. Much as I wanted to be in a good space for racing, my body was not, and it let me know loud and clear. This week, me and my body were in total agreement and I was glad.

5. My bike. I LOVE Stompy and I love racing on a singlespeed. It's the best. Period.

Thoughts on Cross Crusade and OBRA in general:

1. OBRA rocks. OBRA does a great job of making space for beginners, especially women, and growing the activity for riders at every level. It does this through excellent organization, people who know everything and can answer questions clearly and concisely, and (most importantly) a virtual no-pull policy. OBRA will not pull a slower rider from a race unless the rider is having an obvious problem that poses a danger to themselves or someone else. In other parts of the country, I am told, this is not the case. If you're too slow (i.e., you're blown off the back or get lapped quickly) you will be pulled from the race. As someone who is habitually blown out the back door, I am grateful that OBRA lets me stay in the race.

2. Cross Crusade manages to find a good balance (most of the time) between a rolling circus atmosphere and a bike race. I was a little shocked at the amount of beer consumed at these races -- especially before NOON -- but overall I never felt like my safety was at issue. (Then again, I did not go to Astoria over Halloween weekend, either.) CC organizers ran the whole works like a well-oiled machine and everyone approached the enterprise with a mixture of down-to-earthness and good humor that helped this newbie grow comfortable in the rarefied atmosphere of Oregon cyclocross.

3. The Oregon 'cross crowd is simply the friendliest bunch of bike racers I have ever met in my life. This scene is so much more welcoming to newcomers than anything I experienced as a road time-trialist 15 years ago, where other racers all but looked down their noses at me. My experience this fall was enough to tell me that, while I have no desire to ever check out the roadie scene ever again, I will definitely be back for short-track and 'cross next year.

My gratitude goes out to some specific folks:

Edwin, Joel, Ira, Molly, John and Danielle for their friendliness and warm welcome to the racing scene.
Hazel for being a willing and cheerful co-newbie to cross with me; I'll see you killing it with the B's next year!
Team Beer, Team Cthulu, Motordome and Super-Relax for letting me hang out (and store my stuff out of the rain) in the vicinity of their tents.
As the only Bella at most of my races, it was nice not to have to do it totally alone.
Velo Bella. Because of their laid-back, non-profit (read: affordable) approach to team racing, I could afford to join a team, get useful info and encouragement from women all over the country, and fly some crazy-memorable team kit in my first full season of racing. Thank you for being a springboard for new racers.
My co-workers at Citybikes, a decidedly non-racing shop, who had the grace NOT to laugh out loud when I announced I was taking up bike racing.
My partner, for being behind me and supporting me in this wacky thing, for telling me that I am a rock star and a real athlete, even on the days when I haven't felt like one, and for being there with hugs, foot rubs and soup when I got home from these things.
Having people in your corner makes a world of difference.

race report: i can do anything for 45 minutes

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 02:29:26 GMT

The mantra worked. Thanks to the anonymous reader of my blog who supplied it earlier this week.

Sadly, the camera did not work -- dead batteries -- so I have no race photos until/unless friends send me theirs (with permission to share).

The course was challenging, with two steep run-ups, a concrete slab barrier (oddly, the only barrier in the course!) and several sections of pavement that had been rendered slick with muddy runoff in the previous heats. The best part of the entire course was a steep, quick drop-down; it was steep like the off-camber transitions featured at PIR short-track earlier this summer, and as I walked the course with Joel (who kindly drove me there and home again) we noted where the best lines were. I also noted -- before Joel pointed it out -- that people coming from strictly road-riding approached the drop-down very differently than those with off-road riding experience. The off-road riders approached the drop, picked a line, and dropped down like it was no big deal. The road riders were much more tentative -- and a few stopped short at the top, scared to ride down it. I didn't do a practice ride -- I wanted to save my energy for the race -- but walking the course made it much easier to see where I wanted to ride, and I looked forward to hitting the drop-down. The secret, I understood, was to stay off my front brake, feather my rear brake for just a moment at the top if necessary, throw my butt back behind my saddle (which I could do on my slightly-small mountain bike), and just let it flow down the hill without touching my brakes.

The run-ups were nearly as steep as the one at Alpenrose -- and the second one was almost twice as long, snaking upward through a blackberry bramble. This was the most physically demanding section of the course for me; I topped the run-up and was badly winded each time, my knees aching from the steepness.

Laps were shorter today than at PIR -- around 2 miles per lap -- and the mud was a much more manageable consistency, too -- less grease and more peanut butter, totally rideable on my singlespeed atb. I was heartened by how much vocal encouragement and cheering I got for riding a singlespeed, and for barrelling down the drop-down.

A young woman who managed to pass me on the flats at every opportunity stopped up short in front of me at the drop-down; she was literally paralyzed by fear. The first time, I simply said, "on your right" and passed her carefully. I managed to pick a decent line through the mud and took the drop old-school bmx-style with one foot off my pedal to help me balance against the off-camber slant. It felt fine, exhilarating, actually, and I took it that way each time. On the next lap when the same thing happened again, that same woman was stuck at the top and didn't know what to do. I slowed down and said to her, "Listen, get back on your bike! It's less scary if you're looking at it on your bike! Really, you can totally do this!" She couldn't, and I wished I could've helped her, but we were racing; there were women coming up behind me and I really wanted to complete at least two laps today, maybe even three, before time was called. I learned afterwards that both times she carried her bike and picked her way down the side of the course, just left of the cones.

Another section of the course that I found myself really enjoying was at the sharp turn that took you down through the parking area, over muddy pavement and onto some muddy gravel. A good line had already been carved into it by previous racers -- a benefit of racing so late in the day -- and so I simply went with the line, bunny-hopped a little over the bumpy puddle in the middle, and turned onto the gravel road where I managed to stay up. In fact, I did not go down once the entire race, and my bike handling felt so much better than when I rode my first short-track race back in June! It was so great to note the progression of my bike-handling skills, even as I was pushing myself and my knees complained (loudly) and I could hear my heart throbbing in the top of my head.

And suddenly, before I was really prepared for it, really, the race was over. "You're done!" the officials yelled out to me as I crossed the finish line. "Really?" I asked in disbelief. I knew I'd only completed two laps, and I was a little disappointed. I was sorrier still that I would not get to ride the drop-down just one more time. It was that fun. I hung out near the finish line for a couple of minutes to talk with a friend, and as I turned to head back to the Team Beer tent for my bag, that woman from the top of the drop-down clawed her way up the run-up. Another racer who'd finished ahead of both of us yelled encouragement, and the two of us got off our bikes and jogged with her the last twenty yards to the finish line, cheering all the way. She looked super-tired, and happy to have completed the course.

I am so happy that I hung in there today, that I did not DNF, that my knees didn't give out, that my bike handled the course so beautifully (well, really, there's just no excuse here. I was on a mountain bike.), and that I felt really tired but also really good afterwards. The new mantra worked. I can do anything for 45 minutes.

And that's it. That's my first Cross Crusade in the books (today was the final race in the series). I have USGP, where I've been told that I will probably be pulled and may not even qualify to ride the next day; but that's a totally different scene with its own vibe; more serious, with USA Cycling officials crawling all over and the elite-level riders looking for the series win and one last good race before Nationals the following weekend. I will, of course, do my best at USGP but really for me it has been all about Cross Crusade. I am pretty happy with wha I've learned by doing this and I know I will want to come back again next year, at least for the most local, transit-accessible races if nothing else (though Barton Park is a really fun course!).

So I guess this makes me a bicycle racer, even if I'm a really slow one. I don't care.
Wow. It's really, really cool. I'm glad I've done it. I want to do it some more.

I hope there will be some good pictures on Flickr (search under "Cross Crusade 2009" and I'm sure something will turn up.)

Phew.

womens singlespeed cross? sign up HERE

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 06:02:23 GMT

You read that right.

If you want to see women get their own Singlespeed category at future Cross Crusade races, reply here with your name and contact info. If I can compile a list with a minimum of twenty women who would sign up to race in a Womens' Singlespeed category then Cross Crusade organizers will discuss the possibility with me after 'cross season is over. The more names I can get onto such a list, the more likely the possibility can become a reality in 2010.

Why Womens' Singlespeed?

1. Singlespeed builds bike-handling skills like you would not believe. If you're not fumbling shifts you can focus on the ride.

2. Singlespeed builds strength by requiring you to build momentum heading into inclines. To build momentum you need to not have someone on a geared bike in front of you, spinning madly while going sort of nowhere. So you may have to pass them now and then. Learning how to pass means working on bursts of speed, and working on bursts of speed builds strength over time.

3. Singlespeed categories at races have typically been comprised of a half-dozen women -- and about three hundred men. That's fine for the rare woman who is experienced and already fast. But for the newcomer who wants to try singlespeed, three hundred men will all but guarantee that she finishes dead last -- and in some races she may even get pulled if the field laps her too many times. All ages and abilities -- the original intent of singlespeed -- is one thing, but there is a clear difference between three hundred experienced men and twenty or more inexperienced women; why force them to compete in the same race at the same time?

4. Giving women their own singlespeed category -- within the womens' race, but tallied separately -- gives women the encouragement to try singlespeed, and gives them a little credit for it, in a setting where they can test themselves against each other while building their skills. In a sport where people constantly complain that there aren't enough women, growing more women racers is partly the point here.

So if you would sign up for a Womens' Singlespeed class at next year's Cross Crusade, respond here with your contact info and I will add you to the list.

See you at the races.

what to bring to races? revised

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 18:05:30 GMT

Only now that two-thirds of my 'cross season is behind me do the most helpful articles about what to bring to 'cross races begin to pop up on the internet. Every one of these articles assumes that the racer will be going to the races in a car.

Going to races in a car allows you to bring more stuff: extra clothing; a stationary trainer; a pit-wash kit and maybe even a second bike if you're super-serious about the whole enterprise.

But here in Portland, a surprising number of racers do not own cars. If the races are out of town, carless racers will try to carpool with someone else (which still limits what they can bring to a certain extent). If the races are in Portland and transit-accessible, many of us will go "multi-modal"; we'll ride part of the way there and use transit (bus or light-rail) to shorten the trip so we don't fry ourselves before the race. Going multi-modal limits what I can bring with me even more severely. So those formerly helpful articles written by people with cars suddenly aren't as helpful. I live pretty much car-free (except when I go places with Sweetie in her car, and she generally doesn't drive me to bike events).

I am going multi-modal to nearly all of my races this year. (I signed up for Barton Park days before Trimet discontinued Sunday service to Estacada, so now I am carpooling to get to that race this Sunday.)

Going car-free to races requires me to carry less, and to carry it on my back. So here's how I do it:

1. I am currently using a water-proof backpack that, while not quite big enough to carry everything well, was obtained cheaply. So I'll roll with it for this year and try to find something better for next season.

2. Clothing choices: Check the weather forecast. This Sunday's forecast calls for showers, with lows in the high 30's and highs in the mid to upper 40's. This means that I will eschew my team kit this weekend, because it will just be too damned cold to race in lycra (sorry, Velo Bella). Instead, I will reach for wool-blend, full-length tights and a wool jersey and undershirt. A smaller bag means I cannot bring three or four changes of clothing, so I generally wear my race-kit to the event (going multi-modal means I won't work up too much of a sweat beforehand). I'll bring wool warmup tights, a dry wool jersey, changes of gloves and headcoverings, and a rainshell that I will shed moments before the race. Immediately after my race I will retrieve my rain shell, and change into the dry jersey and warmup tights. Dry clothing goes into its own large ziploc bag. I bring a second large ziploc bag for my wet things to go into after the race.

3. Shoes: My racing shoes are water-resistant and very comfortable. I usually bring a lightweight pair of sneakers and a pair of dry wool socks; but the last two races I haven't felt a need to change shoes since I went home not long after each race. Also, there's not a lot of room in my bag for spare shoes so I prefer not to have to bring them unless I suspect that my race shoes will get fully submerged in mud/water and therefore soaked. Shoes go into a separate ziploc bag.

4. Toiletries: Baby-wipes, a small Packtowl for my body and a washcloth for my face and hands (two separate towels because I don't want embrocation winding up on the wrong places!). I've recently begun using Action Wipes in lieu of baby-wipes and I like them; the wipe is larger than a baby-wipe, and can be laundered (gentle cycle, drip dry) and re-purposed for reduced landfill impact. In a second ziploc bag, I bring extra medications (because you just never know), a small first-aid kit (with band-aids and anti-bacterial ointment) and a cell-phone. In the smallest ziploc bag of all rests a contained of embrocation and a latex glove with which to apply it.

5. I usually bring a small ziploc bag containing snacks and maybe a PB & J sandwich. If I know that the soup wagon will be at the races, I'll spring for a cup of yummy pumpkin-spice soup instead. (After the Hillsboro race I went for frites and beer, a choice that I paid for the next morning. So no more fried foods at races!)

6. In the inside pocket of my backpack I have a multi-tool, a spare tube and tire levers. Riding singlespeed -- and having great neutral support at the races -- eliminates the need to bring anything else.

Each of these large ziploc bags is clearly labeled so I can find what I need in a hurry. I put these into my backpack in such a way that the soles of the spare shoes lay directly flat against my back for comfort. On either side of the ziploc bags I carry a water bottle and small coffee thermos. On top of the ziploc bags I stuff my rain shell. It all fits. Barely.

(It all has to fit in here -- slightly smaller than an Ortlieb backpack)

evidence of suffering

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 16:28:06 GMT

This was taken by fellow racer "Rich" at last Sunday's race, used here with permission:

Yes, it really was this hard. And this steep. And by the time this photo was snapped, I was about 3/4 of the way through the course, in pain and out of breath. I cannot believe I DNF'd. I cannot believe I completed a full lap. I cannot believe I want to go out and do it again this weekend.

A new mantra, as suggested by a reader of my blog:

I can do anything for 45 minutes.
I can do anything for 45 minutes.
I can do anything for 45 minutes.

It's a lot to paint on my handlebar, but it's not bad.

I am told that the Barton Park course is more technical than PIR, and the mud should be a little less peanut-buttery, more watery. There is talk of a "monster" run-up and some "dangerous" off-camber single-track. I will walk, but not pre-ride, sections of the course on Sunday. I have learned that too much pre-riding kills me for the racing, and also lessens the do-or-die attitude that I have found necessary to get through a race.

Today, some pootling time on the bike this afternoon over at Woodlawn Park.
Tomorrow, a "rest" day spent off the bike. Saturday, a light morning spin around the neighborhood. This is the last race of the Cross Crusade series and I would like to finish. I don't care what place, just finishing will make me happy. I am sure other, stronger racers have nobler goals but there's mine and I'm sticking to it.

morning-after pills for 'cross?

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 15:03:01 GMT

I would love for someone to invent a morning-after pill that takes away the effects of a really bad 'cross race.

This morning I am sore and achy all over like you would not believe. I feel like I got hit with a million Matchbox-sized Mack trucks, like a Mack truck repeater rifle. My lower back hurts, my hands hurt (remember, my mountain bike has no shocks), my neck hurts.

(...I forgot to mention that when I woke up yesterday, I stretched in bed and suddenly got a ferocious little kink in my neck. I had to apply some Salonpas patches to the area after Sweetie massaged it, and they stayed on all day till I came home. That couldn't have been the cause of my bad day. Could it? Naaaaah.)
I just feel like utter dogflarb.

And oh yeah, my gut is muttering, too, the way it does before a flare-up. Rats.

I may take the bus today, even though it will take me forever to get to work compared to how long it takes by bicycle. I'm just not really excited about riding to work. And that's hard, because my daily commute is something I usually look forward to every day.

Waaaaaaaah. (I'd stamp my foot, too; but I'm too beat.)

Update: most women don't talk about this, and it's silly because it's a part of life for the, ahem, "distaff" side. But my cycle kicked into high gear this morning and, well, that would definitely explain why my energy suddenly packed up and left town ten minutes into yesterday's race. The day before my cycle starts, my energy level ALWAYS goes up, down and sideways; and if I'm distracted (say, by racing or something) then I'm not paying attention to that. It's also probably why my tummy is going all IBD-crap on me today.

Oh well. Live and learn. I'll admit that now that I've figured things out, I'm a little amazed I actually completed one lap on that insane course. I feel a little better, and while I'm still really bummed that I couldn't finish, I'm not beating myself up over it anymore.

Meanwhile, I have scored a ride to Barton Park (thanks to the lovely folks at Team Motordome), and believe it or not I am actually looking forward to my last Cross Crusade race this fall. Crazy.

race report: cross crusade # 7, PIR

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:53:50 GMT

Today I stopped being a racer, and became a racer-shaped object.

I rested well Friday night, which is what I wanted for a Sunday race. I ate decently and had no serious IBD-related issues. I went to the race early, wearing additional clothing to stay warm while I cheered on friends. When it was time to warm up I stripped off the street knickers and applied a second coating of embrocation (and enjoyed helping three other racers, including two who were visiting from Team Beer-Sacramento, learn how to embrocate as well). I made sure to stop eating solid food around two hours before my race, and had a final drink and bathroom stop well before call-ups. I walked sections of the course, noting that the mud would be come good and soupy by the time three hundred people had ridden and run through it (and that was before the womens' race). I took an easy, long warm-up, first stretching and then doing moderate laps in the start area and around the backside to the first run-up. I did only a couple of "hot" laps, and followed up with some more gentle stretching before waiting to be called up. Call-ups for the women took a long time. After series leaders in each category were called up, The rest of the women were called up by random ending number, and that put me squarely in the middle of the Beginner's pack. I worried that I would knock someone down if we got too close to each other and slipped in the mud.

In the moments before we were sent off, the clouds blew by quickly and the sky darkened dramatically. The rain, which had held off since my arrival earlier that day, began in earnest. A collective groan arose from the hundreds of women before we were sent off by category.

The rain did not help. Neither did the fact that, as soon as I'd stopped warming up and waited around for call-ups, I got cold in a hurry. (Note to self: next time, get a really cheap jacket at Goodwill and bring to call-ups. Try to toss it far away just before my race starts. If I can't find it afterwards, well, it came from Goodwill.)

I managed to stay upright through the early, slippery paved parts of the course. When we got to the mud, it bogged down quickly, and things began to go downhill. I was already fighting my head, trying to stay focused on my mantra ("Keep Going", painted on my handlebar) and struggling to maintain the upper hand. Riding through the mud took so much effort that I was spent before I'd gone a third of the way around the course. And it was a long course, the longest of the entire series, at over 2.5 miles a lap. I came to the first run-up (shown, here, during a previous heat before the mud really began to degrade):

It is actually steeper than it looks, nearly as steep as the run-up at Alpenrose and another half-length longer. By the time the women were racing the mud had turned to grease. I went down on my knees twice on the way up, and the second time I nearly toppled off to the side because my bike had accumulated about thirty pounds of mud since the start. (This is why the pros have two bikes, and trained helpers to clean and hand off each in turn.)

I made it to the top, and I began to hate racing. I carried on, not out of some noble triumph of spirit but because I was freezing cold and moving helped me to stay almost warm.

I slogged my way around and down the backside of the hill, to another short incline that I was able to ride up -- thick, goopy mud is where I definitely felt some kind of advantage with my slightly wider tires and no worries of a derailleur to break. Then it went from bad to worse. Every turn was sickly, dangerously off-camber and slick as goose-shit (actually, there WAS goose-shit scattered around the fields). Occasionally, there were watery bogs so deep that my rims would disappear. Racers on older road bikes converted for 'cross were in trouble here, because their bottom brackets would actually submerge below the water-line. My higher bottom bracket cleared the water, but it was really hard to keep my momentum going, even with the relatively easy gear I'd selected (32 x 19). At one point, my legs began to burn so badly that I stopped pedaling to coast -- and immediately came to a halt in calf-high water. My foot went down, and the shock of cold water seeping into my shoe sent my resolve tumbling. Still, I kept going; I sure as hell didn't want to stop in a foot of standing water.

The mudfest continued and became simply impossible. I kept fighting the mud on more off-camber corners, trying hard not to go down with my bike. At length, I had to stop trying to pedal, get off and walk the bike through the mud -- lifting and running with it wasn't going to happen at this point. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally made it back to something resembling pavement, only to see the next run-up:

At this point I knew that I would not, could not, finish the race, and that all I could manage was to tough it out for one full lap. I nearly cried as I dismounted and dragged my sorry ass up the hill and over each barrier. Banana slugs could have lapped me by then. I made it to the top, fell down on another off-camber corner slick as snot, and winced when I got back up; my "trick" right knee was complaining, and loudly. That was it. I was done. I crawled across the finish line, pulled off the course as far as I could, and signaled to the official "D-N-F", spelling out each letter in sign language to make my point. I didn't know which I felt more -- disgusted with myself for quitting, or wrung out from the utter stupidity of the effort. Either way, I felt like crap.

I was cold and wet and grumpy. I retrieved my things; pulled off my sopping VB jersey and slipped on a dry wool one; pulled my street knickers on over my wet cycling togs; said my goodbyes at the Team beer tent and threaded my squishy-footed way through the maze of tents and booths to the exit. On the way, I decided to stop for a waffle; if I couldn't handle beer (and I couldn't just then, because my stomach wasn't feeling so great), at least I could eat something warm and toasty. It helped a little. If I wasn't in such a foul mood, I might have stayed for the Singlespeed CX World Championships, which were due to start in about an hour; but Sweetie had gotten us theater tickets and I needed to get home so I'd have enough time to shower, change and rest a little before we went out. Plus, I was really cold and wet and wasn't in the mood to stick around anyway.

I got home and discovered that Sweetie wasn't feeling well herself; we made plans to trade the tickets for another night and stayed home. It's just as well. Tonight I am bone-tired, my joints are achy from the cold and I am feeling truly beat-up by a stupidly impossible course on a cold, very soggy day. I hope I will feel a little better tomorrow after a good night's sleep.

Next week I am scheduled to race the final Cross Crusade race at Barton Park, assuming I can get a ride there and back. I am hoping that I will want to by the time next Sunday comes around.

anti-climax, or "why i'm not riding sscxwc"

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 17:31:23 GMT

Tomorrow is Cross Crusade # 7, being held at a course I've come to see as my home base: Portland International Raceway.

In addition, it's also the site of the Singlespeed Cyclocross World Championships.

Several people I know are racing in both their regular Cross Crusade category and SSCXWC. A few will only race in the SSCXWC. As for me, I will be racing my regularly-scheduled Cross Crusade category (Beginner Women), on my beloved Stompy.

I'm sure that racing a singlespeed bike in the Beginner class and skipping the so-called singlespeed world championships is some kind of crazy anticlimax, a perfect Walter Mitty moment if ever there was one. That's okay. I'm good at the Walter Mitty thing. I've done it before.

I'm taking this seemingly anticlimactic approach because:

a. (and this is probably the biggest reason) The entry fees for SSCXWC are more than twice as much as Cross Crusade. I had already pre-registered for Cross Crusade so I wasn't really prepared to spring for another race so soon. There's also something slightly suspect when a race that has had qualifier races three years running suddenly decides a week before this year's race that instead they will have just one race, open to everyone on a first-come, first-served basis, and capped at 250 spots. That tells me they had trouble selling enough spots for a two-day event. At $45.00 a pop it's understandable. The event is supposed to move to another city next year. I wish them luck. (Last I heard there were still spots available for tomorrow's event. Hmm.)

b. There's no way I have the strength or endurance to do two races in one day, especially within an hour of each other.

c. I'm not especially thrilled about the wacky aspects of the SSCXWC; last year's course featured riding blind through a thick wall of foamy bubbles. There's also a ton of drinking, more than usually found at these things; and I guess that I'm just not into events where the beer just flows and flows. Reports from last weekend's Astoria race, with beer cans being tossed at racers and underage riders having easy access to beer, make me glad I didn't go. The prospect of so much beer at races just doesn't excite me that much. It's certainly not a compelling reason for my participation.

d. Sweetie got us theater tickets for 7:30 pm downtown. So when I'm done, I pretty much need to leave right away so I can get home, clean up and rest a little before going out again. The play is supposed to be really good. I hope I can stay awake for it.

I admit that I am not as physically prepared for this race. Part of me is not excited at going out in the cold and wet; my push-ups and intervals routine has slackened off; there's been stress at work and I've slept poorly for several nights in a row. I also didn't ride yesterday -- I just felt too tired and decided to take a true rest day. The only ambitious thing I did was to rake the front yard and bag up the leaves for compost.
I'm hoping to get over to PIR this afternoon for a little course-walking.

thou'st made the world too beautiful

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 04:37:45 GMT


O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
   Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
   Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour!  That gaunt crag
To crush!  To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!


Long have I known a glory in it all,
   But never knew I this;
   Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, — Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, — let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

                       --Edna St. Vincent Milay

(pictures taken at Portland's Japanese garden)

one world, one gear: womens' singlespeed?

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 16:24:30 GMT

I love racing singlespeed. It's freeing, it grows strong bike-handling skills and improves both strength and finesse. I love it so much that, for the remainder of my racing career (however long that is) I will choose to race on a singlespeed bike.

The downside is that, at present, women racing singlespeed bikes have one of three choices: race in their appropriate experience group (Womens' Beginner, Womens' A or B); race in their Masters age group (if applicable); or race in the singlespeed class -- with about three hundred men. At Cross Crusade races, about half a dozen women have chosen the third option, though to my knowledge none has ever beaten all the men to win the category.

Racing a singlespeed bike requires a different approach than racing on a geared bike. With gears, you will naturally slow down as you shift into an easier gear to get up an incline. With only one gear, you must time your ascent and start accelerating from farther back in order to gain enough momentum to get up the incline.
When, on your singlespeed bike, you get "stuck" behind someone on a geared bike who is fumbling a shift, you must either pass her -- or, if there's no room to pass, you will get stuck behind her and possibly lose enough momentum that you are forced to get off your bike and run up the incline. This happened to me at Alpenrose. At Hillsboro, I looked for an opportunity to pass a rider on a geared bike so I wouldn't lose momentum -- and had my first successful experience doing just that.

That said, it would be unrealistic to expect a large field of women on singlespeeds to be truly competitive with about three hundred men on singlespeeds. Physiology is just not on our side. Testosterone really can help you go faster (or else the UCI wouldn't test for excessive testosterone levels at the Grand Tours), and most women just don't come equipped with very much of the stuff. So it makes sense for the majority of women who want to race singlespeed to do so in their own category, and see how they stack up (no pun intended) against each other.

While I would not foolishly insist on a separate race for women on singlespeeds -- there's just no time to add another race to an already packed race-day schedule -- I would love to see women on singlespeeds be recognized for their accomplishments on what is a very different sort of bike. I envision simply adding a womens' singlespeed category to the existing womens' field, and counting the singlespeed riders in a separate classification as they finish with the other women. (At Cross Crusade all womens' categories except A race together. Womens' A races with Mens' A at the end of the day.)

Not long after the conclusion of the womens' race last Sunday, I had a lovely chat with Brad Ross, the Grand Poobah of the Cross Crusade cyclocross series. I asked him what it would take to create a separate womens' classification for women who wanted to get some credit for racing singlespeed. He thought about it for a minute, and suggested that serious inquiries from at least twenty women would be a good start to the conversation.

So, in anticipation of being able to set something up like this for next year, I've invited women to contact me through the OBRA or Cross Crusade forums and let me know if they'd race in a womens' singlespeed classification. I am compiling names and contact info and will schedule a meeting with Brad Ross for sometime in late winter/early spring 2010.

If you're a woman, an OBRA member and a singlespeed fanatic, and you'd be interested in racing in a womens' singlespeed class next year, go to the Cross Crusade forum or the OBRA forum; read the message, and PM me if you want to get on the list. The list currently has eleven women on it (including me). I hope to have at least thirty women who are serious about racing singlespeed and getting credit for it at next year's Cross Crusade. Because singlespeed is simply the best!

caught in the act

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 22:45:43 GMT

(10/25/09, Washington County Fairgrounds. Photo by S. Young, used w/permission.)

race report: cross crusade # 4

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:24:09 GMT

(Washington County fairgrounds, Hillsboro, OR)

UPDATE, 10/30/09 -- You may be wondering: what happened to this race report?

Here's what happened:

The same day I posted this report here, I also posted it to Cyclocross Magazine's Forum, thereby entering it in a contest for Best Race Report Of The Week. And for the second time in about thirty-five years, I've won a writing contest. The prize was a large messenger bag, which will come in quite handy for hauling gear.

Sooo... in order to receive The Prize, I had to agree to remove my post from my blog and post a link to it at Cyclocross Magazine's Forum instead. So -- if you were late to the ball and didn't get to read my report of the Washington County Fairgrounds Mudfest, fear not!

It can be found in its entirety here.

(co-worker Kathy (L) and me (R) enjoying our favorite beverages minutes after the Beginner Womens' race.)

more mud! more mud!

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 18:15:43 GMT

I took it easy yesterday so I could try some colder-weather practice today.
It mostly worked, though I feel slow and vaguely out of shape. I gave it 45 challenging minutes out in the rain and mud. Woodlawn Park was basically a grassy, muddy bog, which was perfect for practicing in soggy grass and mud.

I didn't practice ANY cross techniques today. Instead, I tried to prepare for Sunday's race at the fairgrounds by aiming for mud wherever I could find it, and riding through it different speeds. There was about two inches of standing water in multiple places on the softball diamond, and the small mud puddle I'd practiced in last week had turned into a brown lake. I needed to feel the cold mud on my legs and backside, and in my face. I needed to feel what a slippy rear wheel in mud would feel like, and if I could manage to keep the bike upright. I didn't fall, but I also didn't totally conquer my fears about riding in muddy puddles too deep to see the bottom. I hear the Hillsboro course will not only run through part of the livestock area, but also does a circuit through the rodeo arena. Delightful. I hope I can keep my bike upright in it.

Adding mud-appropriate tires definitely helped. The Cross Terras were fine for dry, fast conditions but I knew they would be pointless in the bog. I sought advice from the nice folks at the Cyclocross Magazine Forums, and several folks suggested the Continental Cross Country in 26 x 1.5 as THE tire for racing 'cross on a mountain bike. So I sprang for a pair and installed them yesterday. They feel pretty darned good in the mud, though the aggressive tread does slow me down a little. I hesitate changing to a lower gear just before a race so I will live with it and see how it goes.

When I got home, I looked down at my legs. They were beautifully splattered with wet grass and watery mud droplets. My butt was covered with mud. And although I was cold, I wasn't intolerably chilled to the bone, so my clothing choices worked pretty well.

Changes for Sunday:

--knickers AND embrocation (I got the NW Kneewarmers Mild mixture, tried it today and liked it);
--wool undershirt and wool armwarmers with VB jersey;
--long wool socks;
--thin thermal cycling cap under my helmet;
--Croakies -- probably unneccessary but they did make me feel more secure about racing in my glasses.

I am still playing around with shoe choices. On Sunday I'll go with what I've been using -- they work great on my pedals -- but if the run-ups are too slick I will have to go back to the drawing board. The courses will only get colder and muddier in November.

Here we go. Bring on the mud.

why portland will never be like copenhagen

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 00:50:20 GMT

You can read why here:

http://bikeportland.org/2009/10/20/americas-top-bike-minds-ask-for-and-receive-advice-from-europe/

A panel of some of the smartest transportation minds from both sides of the Atlantic spells it all out, kids.
Portland can't become Copenhagen because Portland has the ill fortune of being part of the United States, and the United States is too big, too car-centric and was planned too much around the car for us to dismantle it and re-train enough human beings to want the smaller, intimate human scale that cities like Copenhagen were built on.

You want separate bikeways that actually get us to the same places we currently go by car? You want to reduce and eventually eliminate on-street car parking? You want to make it difficult, expensive and inconvenient to own and drive a car?

Move to Copenhagen.

Meanwhile if you accept that living the bicycle life here in the United States will always be harder, scarier, less safe and more fraught with anxiety and risk, and you're willing to do it anyway, then welcome to my world, friend!

Let's go for a ride.