The cats are purring

The first thing I asked Jon this morning was if he was feeling well.  (What I meant was if he was still shitting like he was pissing).  He said he felt fine (which I took to mean that he was feeling fine).   I had mixed feelings about Jon feeling like his old self again.  On one hand, I was glad his Cats were feeling better, and that we would be able to ride faster.  On the other hand, I knew that meant he was going to hurt me.  After all of my own cramping yesterday, I woke up stiff and sore this morning.  It felt like my hamstrings and quads were going to cramp just getting out of bed. It was an auspicious start to the day.  

Today's stage was an "easy" one.  28 miles and 4000 feet of climbing.  Jon went out fast in his usual style.  I puttered along in my usual style.  We eventually met in the middle once I got warmed up.  Once we got going, my legs actually felt good.  Suspiciously good.  The climbs were steep, but I felt comfortable, and I actually stayed around my threshold.  Jon was strong, and he showed no signs that he felt any residual effects from the day before.   I had made a bottle of Accelerade for the Aid station and dumped an unmeasured amount of salt into it.  I only realized that I may have put a bit much when my lips puckered.  But it went down okay, and it kept me going.  I was even able to hang with Jon for the race.   There wasn't a lot of mileage, but there was a lot climbing.  My new $600 bike (not a Huffy, but close) actually rides great.  It descends like a bowling ball and climbs like one too.  I got stronger as the stage went on and we both finished strong, both feeling good at the finish line.  Incredibly, I didn't cramp!  As Jon would say, "Yeah, that's alright, mmhmm."  Crazy F__king British.

As a side note, Jon had never eaten Totinos frozen pizzas, so we picked up a couple for dinner.  They are crazy expensive up here at altitude.  Like $1.60 per pizza.  I also introduced him to Eggo waffles.  If it weren't for me, poor Jon wouldn't ever get to sample some of Americas finest cuisine.

All in all, a good day.  We didn't change in the standings, but we can build on this.  Tomorrow is the biggest day.  42 miles,  10,000 feet of climbing.  

BTW, we didn't actually pay off Stuart and Steve to switch categories.  They moved to the 80+ division because they are . . . old.  Thanks for being old, guys.  Stuart, I still owe you some socks.

One last thing,  Jenn and Chris stopped their race so that they could help another team's member convert her bike to a single speed after her derailleur cable broke.   When I asked how their race went, they didn't even mention it!  Jeez, I'd be bragging about it to everyone who asked (and even those who didn't)!  Big props you two.

Time for sleep.  Big day tomorrow.

out.

Bribes

Okay.  Full disclosure.  The team in front of us that changed categories was Stuart and Steve.  I paid them off with a Spare Tire Cycling t-shirt and custom socks.  I can't believe they could be bought that cheaply.  I need to find more gear to give away if we want to move up anymore in the standings.  

chamois creme

Well I have to say that today really hurt. The TT yesterday was good. Today I had my worst day for years. Oh, the hurt-Stomach cramp! Would happily have packed the bags and gone home had it been a training ride, but alas it's the BRECK EPIC. Cramps arrived 5 miles into the stage and left after 25. Luckily we didn't drop too much time, just my pants! Big shout to Jeff for talking me through the fun.

Awesome stage with some of the best riding in Summit county. 35 miles with 4500ft of climbing- felt like a boat load more as the tank was empty. Stunning descents along the Colorado Trail. Just under 4 hours in the saddle.

Feeling better tonight and hope I'm good to go for the next 4 days- tomorrow looks fun.

Check the following for more info about the Epic

http://breckepic.com/

http://www.cyclingdirt.org/videos/coverage/view/235344-breck-epic-stage-race

Projectile vomiting

Some of you are wondering what's up with the title of this posting.  We'll get to that.

Today was the first real test for the week.  37 miles and around 4300 feet of climbing.  Today was the Colorado Trail stage.  I never knew before why IMBA was so passionate about saving the Colorado Trail.  Now I know.   That's some of the sweetest singletrack . . . IN THE WORLD!  But before we got to the rippin' trails, we had to do some climbing.  And that's where we come back to the title of this post.

We showed up to the start this morning to find that we were 6th out of 7 men's open duo teams.   A little disappointing, but we are riding against an open class which contains a lot of really strong riders.  And at least we weren't last. The ride out of Breck was like being in "Le Tour".  The neutral start followed a police car, and the car traffic had to stop and wait for us.  Once we hit dirt, the police car split off, and then the climbing began.   The climb went on and on, and in some places was about as steep as the Link.  It was good terrain though, so it was ridable.  When I got to the top, I looked back and didn't see Jon, but I figured he had to be close since he's been so strong this year, much stronger than me.  I started the decent casually expecting Jon to pull up, but it turned out to be some other teams.  I pulled over and waited, and when Jon finally showed up he puffed, "My cats are killing me!".

I rode behind him for a while thinking, "Crazy F__king British."  Finally, I had to know what the hell "Cats" had to do with anything.  So I asked again.

And he replied, "My cats are killing me!"

The English may have been credited for the language, but they sure don't know how to communicate with it well.  

"What?!"

"My CATS are killing me!"

Oh, what the hell!  Do I really care?  When we finally slowed down a bit, I tried one last time.  

"What?"

"My GUTS are killing me!"

OOOOOOOOhhh.  Now I get it.

"I have to shit."

"Now?"

"At the Aid station"

"Dude, if you gotta go, you better just go now.  I see a nice patch of poison ivy to wipe with."

So we pulled over for about 5 minutes while Jon went into the foliage to do his business.  Then I hear gagging and coughing.  I don't usually associate shitting with coughing, so I turned around to see what was up.  And that's where the projectile vomiting comes into the story.  It was coming out both ends with a vengeance.  Poor guy.  

But Jon's a tough bastard.  He got his ass back on the saddle, and we rode on.   I actually felt pretty good, so I took the lead for a change.  Jon's insides were all twisted up, so we rode at a pretty reasonable pace, which allowed me to stay under threshold.   Despite that, I still managed to cramp up because I ran out of water.  But I rode through the cramps and we made decent time.  In fact, we even managed to move up a place in the standings.   (One of the teams in front of us changed categories).  But hey, now were in 5th place!  We just need 4 more teams to change categories, and this thing is in the bag.

Jon seems to have recovered.  We refueled right away, and we've got our compression stockings on.  (Thanks, Drew!).  Early to bed tonight.  Each stage gets harder.

out.

1 down 5 to go

The prologue is done.  As it turned out, the rain stopped shortly before our start time, and the sun even poked out to warm us up.  In fact, the trails were only slightly muddy, but for the most part, in great condition.  I wish my lungs were as well conditioned.   Jon set a pretty fast clip, and I just tried to hang on.  Despite riding in the red zone for most of the time trial, I actually felt pretty good.  Even more surprising, I recovered quick and felt reasonably healthy afterward.  Plenty of singlespeeders passed us on the climb up, but we didn't get passed by anyone in our class (we were the last to go).   The prologue was cut short by 700 feet of climbing (mercifully), so it was a nice little surprise when we hit the top of Nightmare on Baldy and saw the finishing tent.  The only drama of the ride was on the way back down, my bike started making a frightening noise. "GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR".  "What the?" "GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR".   Jon figured out that the problem was with my freehub.  It was making that ugly grinding noise. We made it back to town, and we stopped in to see the guys at Avalanche Sports.  Outside, hosing down his bike, was Josh Tostado.  For those who don't know who Josh is, he's a local legend and crazy strong mountain biker.  He's won the last thousand Breck 100 races.  He had been out earlier marking the course and had gotten caught in that nasty storm.  I rolled in and told him about my bike troubles.  To my surprise he casually replied,"Is it going, 'GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR'?"  I looked at him incredulously and sheepishly replied, "um, yeah". 

 "It's your freehub.  It just needs to be cleaned and lubed."

"Oh, thanks."

"No worries.  Go talk to Rich about it, he'll take care of you."

I went in and began to tell Rich about my troubles.  Just as casually as Josh, he replied, "Is it going 'GRRRRRRRRRRRRR'?".

"Um, yeah"

"It's your freehub.  We can get you fixed up, no sweat."

What is it with these guys?  When a patient comes into the ER, I don't ever give em the "Is it going clickety clack, beep beep?  Oh, well, it's your mesenteric sciatic cerebellum .  We'll get you fixed up, no problem."  And certainly not before the registration clerk has shaken them down for the co-pay first.  

In any case, Rich hooked me up, and I'm good as new.  

Thanks, Avalanche.  You guys kick ass.

Here's a pic from the top.  I'm pretty sure that neither of us could look any goofier.

 

More tomorrow.

out.

It's raining, it's pouring . . .

. . . Jon is really boring.  We are huddled in our condo right now staging for the prologue, which goes down in 70 minutes.  Outside, the weather is crap.  Cold and wet.  Really wet.  Thunder keeps rolling in but doesn't seem to roll out.  On the bright side,  I'm not riding my trusty Bontrager, so I won't be the only sucker out there with a steel bike this time.  Not being a lightning rod is at least some consolation for the fact that we may be riding through sheets of rain.  Well, we hope it's only rain.  At 12,500 feet, it could be even worse.  

I shouldn't complain.  We have a real roof over our heads.  There are some brave souls who chose to camp in this.  Finishing a wet, frigid ride by returning to a wet, frigid tent is not my idea of a good time.   I'm glad we splurged on the condo.

Better check my tire pressure for the 4th time.  

Out.

Breck Epic 1st post

Word.

If you are reading this, you are either friend, family, or stalker.  Pretty much nobody else would be reading this.  We aren't picky, so whoever you are,  welcome, and thanks for tuning in.

The Breck Epic begins tomorrow.  Jon and I will be posting internet fodder for the enjoyment of mostly ourselves.  But if you are trying to kill time at work or need something to help you sleep, read on.

Today being our nation's Independence Day, we felt it fitting that we celebrate by riding.  Well, our respective wives celebrated by riding.  Sue and Deb rocked the Firecracker course and brought home hardware (free pint glass with the free post-ride beer from Backcountry Brewery).   Each wife took on the grueling 25 mile course tag team style.  For those of you who don't know the course, it comes out to 50 miles of rather challenging terrain.  Oh, who am I kidding, it's a scorned, vindictive, body-pounding bitch of a course.   It's the course that has been chosen for the Marathon National Championships, and it's a pretty cool event, despite the beating.  The course starts out on Main street of Breckenridge, and the mountain bikers are the main attraction of the 4th of July Parade.   Sue and Deb rolled down Main Street as rock-star celebrities, slapping high-fives and waving to adoring kids.  Then Deb left Sue at the Ice Rink to continue the first leg.  And that's when hell begins.  Afterward, Sue told me that the course was harder than I had let on.  She was right.  But if I had told her how tough it really was, she wouldn't have signed up.  

As a side note, the parade was full of candy-throwing paraders.  Syd and Jake successfully played the cute card for each one, and collected more candy than on Halloween.   Another side note, we discovered that our kids are rabidly afraid of fireworks.   In fact, no more than 20 seconds into the fireworks show, Syd cried out,"Let's go back inside! I want to go to bed!"  Now that's terror.   Jake was scared speechless, burying his disproportionately sized head into Sue's chest.  I'd be embarrassed for my boy, except that he gets that cowardice entirely from me.  I don't think I could sleep alone in my own room until I went to college.  Correction, I had a roommate in college, so it was much later than that.  On a positive note, however, I've discovered a fail-safe way to get these rugrats to bed.  "If you don't close your eyes and keep quite, WE"RE GOING TO GO SEE FIREWORKS!"

Time for rest now.  The prologue is tomorrow.  9 miles straight up a large mountain.  

Chow.