Cycling in southwest Jefferson County

Gosh, has it already been a month and a half since I last raced? The Centaur Time Trial still seems like it was just... well... about 6 weeks ago. Going into this season I knew I wouldn't be racing much during June/July - I had decided at the start of this season that I'd put my other passion (beetles) on hold for too long, and this year I was gonna get back to accomplishing something big and important on my June/July weekends - like finding Cicindela cursitans in southeast Missouri - instead of riding my bike around in circles. I have been enjoying these past few weekends of bug collecting (bear with the geek for a moment here), and the break from racing has gotten me back in a good frame of mind for the races I want to do later to finish out the season. But before I could do any of this I needed to help out with my dad, about whom I wrote on Father's Day. That was just two days after his knee replacement surgery, at which time he was in quite a bit of pain, although he's doing much better now and getting around okay, too. But for the week after his surgery I decided to take off from work and family and stay with him at his house until he was able to at least hobble around the house on his own. My dad was worried I would be bored - he really didn't need constant care or supervision, just someone to help him with exercises and a therapy machine a few times each day. I told him not to worry about me, I'd bring my computer, some books, and my bike.

My dad lives in southwest Jefferson County - the closest town (if you can call it that) has the titteringly amusing name of "Grubville." There is no gas station, no grocery store, in fact no shops at all. There is, however, "Jo Mama's Hilltop Tavern," in front of which there always seems to be at least one or two pickup trucks parked. Everytime I drive by Jo Mama's on my way to my dad's house, I amuse myself by imagining what the local reaction would be were I kick to open the door some Friday night and declare, "I'm the meanest son-of-a-bitch around here. I'll kick all your asses!", and run out! Then I start chuckling uncontrollably, while the lyrics from the getaway scene in Charlies Daniel's "Uneasy Rider" pop into my head. Gravel flyin' and rubber squeelin'!

Truth be told, I wanted to go stay with my dad. I was ready for a break from work, and my dad constantly raves about the cycling where he lives. He can't ride fast because of his bad hip, and the unrelenting hills around where he lives push his average speed down even further, but he loves it. I don't know which of us was more excited about me finally getting the chance to do some riding down there. We got home from the hospital on Monday afternoon, and I was itching for a ride. The deeper into the county we drove, the more I couldn't wait to get my bike on those roads. My dad either sensed this, or truly didn't need me to stay put after we got him settled in, or both, and suggested I go on out for a ride. I got kitted up, and we studied the Hwy Dept map while he gave me the low down on what the good roads were, where there were dogs, which climbs were the killers, etc. I tried to keep all the names straight in my head - Browns Ford, Butcher Branch, Ware Church, Tinhouse, Reynolds Creek - nothing but squiggly lines on the map. I memorized a loop that looked to be ~40 miles or so and took off. It was probably the most invigorating bike ride I've had since I came back from France last year. The weather was perfect, and the forecast called for more of the same all week. In those 2+ hours I rediscovered a love for cycling that had gotten somewhat stale lately. I decided to ditch my structured training plan for the week and just have fun.

The terrain around my dad's house is hilly, but it's a different kind of hilly than what I'm used to in Wildwood. Wildwood is known for it's classic climbs - Melrose, Doberman, Bouquet, Six Flags-Allenton - sharp climbs that gain 150-200+ feet in chunks of half a mile or less, followed by long, undulating ridgetop sections or mild valley stretches that allow speed and recovery. It's pretty fast riding. The Big River is the center of attention near my dad's house - all roads in this area seem to have the singular purpose of avoiding the river with its few crossings. Here the roads undulate constantly, up and over ridges, down across low water bridges, curling around points and back up over the next ridge. There are a few flat stretches along some of the County Hwys, but 55 mph speed limits and lack of shoulders makes them dicey for all but the most experienced riders - best use them just when necessary for connections to smaller named roads. The climbs aren't the sharp digs of Wildwood - maximum grades rarely exceed 10-12% - but they stack up one after another. Fifty feet of climbing here, a small descent there, then a 100ft climb with a few steps followed by a series of undulations, and without thinking you've really been climbing you see that you've gained 300 ft in just 4 miles. It's constant and takes it toll.

The roads are generally in good shape. They're not the smooth-as-glass asphalt that I've become spoiled by in Wildwood, but nor are they broken, choppy, or gravel strewn. I found I really didn't need to pay that much attention to avoiding any road hazards, freeing me to enjoy the scenery along the roads. And what spectacular scenery it is - trees and valleys, creeks and glades, wildflowers and lazy cows. It's a quiet, unhurried landscape that seems much more distant from St. Louis than its actual 30 miles. Houses are widely separated, and though most are modest, they thankfully lack the sterile sameness found in the ex/suburban areas that I am used to. This particular house, solidly built from blocks of cut limestone, overlooked a charming valley along Butcher Branch and will surely stand the test of time for many years to come.

I was a little apprehensive at first about how I might be received in this remote land of pickup trucks - it was not far from here where, once, I saw a truck with a bumper sticker that said - I kid you not - "I am from Missouri, and I will shoot you!" (I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw it). Without being too judgmental, let's just say I was worried about looking out-of-place in an area where xenophobia can be prevalent. I may feel comfortable talking about my white bike and shoes on this site, but I found myself wondering if I might be better off wearing jeans and borrowing my dad's black beater bike. My concerns were not at all alleviated when I happened by this house on my 2nd day riding the area (don't even ask me about the machinations I went through to try to "discretely" get this picture, all they while studying the front window for any sign of movement in the shades). In all fairness, however, I had not a single problem the entire week. No buzzings, no horn honks, nothing but friendly waves from lawnmower men, porch ladies, and schoolbus children. In retrospect, I almost feel guilty about my apprehension, considering the much greater frequency with which I am harrassed here in St. Louis County by supposedly well-heeled, upstanding citizens.

I happened upon this old house on Ware Road on my first day of riding in the area - it was almost completely invisible from the road, and I may never have seen it had I not stopped nearby for a drink. I was so captivated by the house and the unknowable story behind it - its history, who had lived there, when was it built, and what was life like in these parts back then - that I made a point of coming back by on every subsequent ride. I wondered how long it had been abandoned, and how much longer it would take before it finally crumbled completely back to the earth. I noted the trees next to it - were they planted? If so, that might be a clue as to its age. The following week I came back down to my dad's and brought the family with me so we could take him out to dinner and get him out of the house. As we drove towards the restaurant, I told them, "I want to show you this house." We turned up Ware Road and approached the spot, but I couldn't find it. Something wasn't right, then I noticed the scorching on the trees surrounding a hole in the forest. The house was gone, burned to the ground! Whether it was an act of God or of man is, like everything else about the house, unknowable to me. I felt sad, like the house had lost its chance to complete the process of decay unassisted - it had come so far, and it deserved to be allowed to go all the way. I was glad that I had taken a picture of it - as if that had somehow saved its story from complete oblivion.

In five days of riding, I managed to rack up more than 200 miles of some of the most enjoyable riding I have ever done. I had no flat tires, no mechanical issues, great weather, exceptional terrain, and a change of pace that happens far too infrequently for this restless soul. It was a week of solitude, yet I don't believe sharing it with someone could have made it any more enjoyable than it was. I didn't watch average speeds, or worry about how fast I climbed, or think about threshold intervals - I just rode. At times quietly, other times I was flying. I stopped to move turtles, or take pictures of flowers, or just admire the sights I was seeing. And always I was thinking, "Yes, this is what it's all about!"

Another upgrade

I know you guys are probably sick of hearing me talk about my bike, but I just can't help it. There were some good suggestions on my previous 'upgrade' post - I really liked the white or white/red spacer idea, but nobody makes real white spacers. You can get "white carbon" spacers, but the color is more silvery than white - no can do on this bike. I also liked Jim's idea for white cable ties to hold the computer to the stem, but in the case of my computer the ties are actually part of the mount itself. I could probably cut them off and 'jury rig' something, but jury rigging anything on this bike seems to defeat the whole narcissistic point of this exercise to begin with. White seatpost? Nyeah - I'm kinda finicky with how seatposts adjust, and I'm really happy with the LOOK post.

So it was time to replace the cables and housings and I brought it into the shop. They asked me if I wanted to stick with silver housings, and right then an idea popped into my head. I said, "Hey, do you have any white cable housings?" They got out a box of assorted housings of all different colors, rummaged through it, and found some white shifter housings. "Cool" I said, "What about brakes?" They rummaged some more, but no white brake housings could be found. Then he pulled out a set and said, "We've got red brake housings." I thought red might also look good, so I asked him to look for some red shifter housings. No luck. "So you've got white shifters but no brakes and red brakes but no shifters." Right then, we both looked at each other - obviously thinking the same thing. "Hey, that might look pretty good." So I went for it, and I like it. You can judge for yourself:



By the way, after my earlier comment about the going full bore with the logo look on my bike, I started wondering exactly how many logos I actually do have on my bike. Being an anal retentive sort, I couldn't resist counting them. Including all brand and product names (but not part numbers or serial numbers), there are 106 logos on my bike - not including the handlebar tape ;-)

My Dad

My dad had knee replacement surgery a couple days ago. The surgery went off without a hitch, and he's doing very well. All signs are that he will bounce back quickly and suffer few, if any, complications. I've spent much of the past three days here at the hospital - sometimes providing support and encouragement, other times just keeping him company. He should be released tomorrow, and I'll spend the rest of the week with him at his house - hopefully he'll be able to get around okay by then.

Some thirty years ago, my dad got an infection that settled in his left hip. By the time doctors found it and figured out what was going on, his left hip socket had degenerated badly, and the only medical option after cleaning up the infection was a year in a full body cast that resulted in fusion of the socket with the femoral head. This left him with a left leg two inches shorter than his right, a bad limp, and a lifetime of pain medications. His right leg became his 'good leg' and his left became the 'bad.' Decades of walking with a cane and favoring his bad leg put a lot of pressure on his good leg, and at age 73 his right leg had had enough. Now, his good leg is his bad leg, and his bad leg is, well, still his bad leg. This will add a wrinkle to his recovery, since he won't have a healthy leg to carry the load while his good leg recovers. But I will be there to help, if needed, and in a few weeks his good leg should be good as new.

My dad is not only my dad, but also my best friend. We have a relationship that is based on mutual love and respect, and I don't know which of us appreciates more what we have with each other. It wasn't always this way - my dad and I were estranged for 25 years starting when I was 10 years old. My parents married far too young, and each had their own issues - they were but children themselves. Having first me, then my brother and sister, only delayed but could not prevent the inevitable break up that resulted in my fathers absence. I paid a heavy price by not having a father during those crucial, formative years as I finished growing up, but I seem to have turned out okay regardless. It would take many years before I would be ready for something so bold as reconciliation, but maturity and the support of a loving wife eventually made it possible. There were difficult questions to answer, but through it I realized that my father had paid a heavy price as well. Not the selfish irresponsible man I had been taught about, instead I saw a sensitive, deeply introspective man who had lived a life of hard knocks, suffered the consequences, learned from his mistakes and turned his life around.

My dad loves to ride bikes. I do too, but I did not learn the love of cycling from him. My dad is simple yet elegant, with an understated class that people adore. I, too, try to show respect and modesty, but I did not learn these things from my father. We both love classical music (he can live without the metal), listen to NPR, and enjoy humor with more than a touch of irreverance - tastes acquired by each of us before we knew each other. What I have learned from my father during these past 15 years is why I am me - a gift I didn't know I lacked. I don't mourn the loss of those 25 years spent without my father, rather I rejoice at the very special relationship that we now have - perhaps possible only because of our separate pasts. My father describes that year in a body cast as the darkest period of his life. I did not know him then, so I could not be there to help him through it. While his recovery from knee replacement will not be near that ordeal, neither will it be easy. But I am here with him, and I know in my heart that whatever difficulties he faces during his recovery, he will look back on this as a small part of the best time of his life.

Mollie's ride

My youngest daughter, Madison (8 yrs), is now (finally) riding a two-wheeler, so for the past few weekends I've been going out with the girls on our bikes. Mollie (12 yrs) gets bored with those rides because "Maddie is just too slow." So this past weekend I promised Mollie she and I could go out, just the two of us. Maddie had a playmate over, so Mollie and I slipped away without any hurt feelings and headed towards the Wildhorse Creek Valley. I had promised Mollie we would stick to the flats - even though I knew no matter where we went we'd have that hill coming back into the neighborhood (Justin, Mark, Jose, you guys know the hill). And we brought along extra water bottles because Mollie knew she was going to be hot.

On the way out of the neighborhood, I pulled the old switcheroo and suggested we climb up Hardt Rd - just to see what she thinks of it, then we could go down the other side and ride the flats. The real goal was to let her experience some downhilling - she's fearless, so I knew she would love it if she made the effort to climb first. She hesitated, so I said, "Well, you did it on your litte bike." That sealed the deal, she took the bait, and up we went. I told her how hard lots of racers find this hill, but being fresh she didn't think it was too bad, so now there was some confidence growing. When we got to the end of Hardt, I told her she had already climbed almost 200 ft - that made her feel even more confident. We rode along Wildhorse Creek up top and then started the descent towards Ossenfort. She loved it but was a little scared, so I just rode behind her telling her each time she hit a new high speed.

When we got down along the flats east of Ossenfort, we rode past Babler Forest. I said, "Hey Mollie, I want to show you something." We turned into Babler Forest and rode up to the bottom of the hill. I said, "This is one of the hardest hills in St. Louis. Not many people can make it up this climb." I just wanted to see her reaction when she looked up that wall, and even more so when I told her that I've hit 53.6 mph coming down this hill. I expected her to shake her head in disbelief and then start riding away, but to my absolute astonishment she asked, "Can we go up it?" I couldn't believe my ears. I said sure, but don't worry if you can't make it. Well, she fought and clawed and switchbacked and struggled and grunted all the way to the top. She must have come off her pedals a dozen times, but she was determined to make it. I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. I encouraged her the whole time but never once told her she had to do it. Once on top, she savored the success for awhile, and then started asking about how to go down. I just told her keep her hands in the drops and on the brakes and stay in control of the bike. I followed behind her and watched in disbelief as she hit 40 mph. When we got to the bottom, she said that was the most thrilling thing she had ever done in her life! She was ecstatic. Then she said something that floored me (again!) - "Can we do it again!" I said, "Let's just go ahead and ride to the end of Centaur, and on the way back if you still feel like it you can."

All along the flats, all she could talk about was how much fun it was going down that hill. We rode to the end of Centaur, stopped for a snack, and started back. Sure enough, she wanted to do Babler Forest again, so I rode behind her as she once again used all her little might to conquer for a second time what few people have done even once. Once again, she made it to the top, and once again, she asked for advice on how to go down faster. I'm not a real worrywort kind of dad, but I was still telling her to be cautious and stay in control. Down we went again, but this time she got up a good head of steam going into the descent. She was actually disappointed when I told her she hit 41 mph - "I wanted to hit 45!" All I could think about was, if she crashed, how I was going to explain to my wife that she did it going down Babler Forest - at 40 mph - for the 2nd time! But no such explanation was needed.

Along Ossenfort and approaching our neighborhood, Mollie looked up with sudden realization - "Oh man, we have to go up that big hill into the neighborhood!" I said, hey - you just did Babler Forest twice, that hill is going to seem like a piece of cake (even though, at an average grade of 13.3% for a quarter-mile, its difficulty falls just shy that of Babler Forest!). Well, for those little 12 yr old legs, 18 miles and over a thousand feet of climbing had taken its toll. I really didn't think she was going to make it they way she was grunting and groaning with each pedal stroke, but not only did she make, she did it without stopping! Her first full hill climb without a stop - a momentous day, indeed. Once up top, she discovered that her chain wasn't on the biggest cog - doh! That made her feel even better about what she had just accomplished.

I'm really proud of that little girl. In 18.5 miles, she climbed a total of 1,157 ft, doing four climbs with the following stats:
- Hardt Road: 0.60 mi, 174 ft, avg grade 5.5%, max grade 12%
- Babler Forest: 0.25 mile, 190 ft, 14.4% average grade, 20% max grade
- Repeat!
- DeHart Farm: 0.25 mi, 175 ft, avg grade 13.3%, max grade 17%

In the above route map from my Garmin Edge 305, the blue dot is our starting point, and you can see the Babler Forest spur going off to the west - the two times up that climb seem to stick up like fangs!

LOOK 585 upgrades

When I had my current road bike built, I wanted to to pick each out component. It was the first time I bought a bike not "off the rack." The one component that I did not pick specifically for this bike was the stem - I had a 3T Less on hand already, and it was fine. As stems go, there really isn't all that much to decide anyway other than whether to go carbon. I like carbon, a lot, but I don't see the point when it comes to stems - carbon stems don't weigh any less, and just the idea of catastrophic failure (unlikely as that may be) at such a critical place is enough to make me stick with good old aluminum. Pick your size, maybe there is a brand you have some loyalty to, and your done.

Until now. FSA just came out with a version of their OS-115 stem in... are you ready... WHITE! Oh my God! A white stem, with my white frame (and white saddle, and white handlebar tape - you get the picture). Not to mention light (only 138 g), shotpeened for strength, a 4-bolt carbon faceplate, and titanium hardware. Did I mention - it's white! Well, I just had to have one, and after months of backordered waiting it finally came. This stem is more than just pretty, it makes my knees buckle! Considering also that my handlebars are FSA K-Wings, it's a perfect match. Check out stage 1 of this past weekend's series of upgrades...


The computer I had been using for my bike is the Mavic Wintech. This was the third WinTech I've bought (I have them on my crit and TT bikes, also), so it goes without saying that I've been pretty happy with this model. It's a basic computer that tells you all the basic things (speed, miles, elapsed time, blah blah) in an elegant, wireless design. My wife, however, knew I wanted more, so for my birthday last month she bought me a Garmin Edge 350. I was just waiting for the stem to arrive before I mounted the new computer, so with that done I present unpgrade number 2...


So, now I not only have a computer that is clean, wireless, and stem-mounted, but also one with GPS capabilities. I'm just getting into figuring out how to use it, so it's rather overwhelming still. Of course, these kinds of cockpit improvement demand new handlebar tape. I've been using Stella Azurra since I first built the bike, which I love for its classic stitched leather look and tacky feel, but I've not been thrilled with how quickly the white version became dirty and how difficult it is to clean. Back when I got my Fizik Aqua & Sappone Team Arione white saddle, included in the deal was a set of white Fizik handlebar tape. I've talked to a few other folks who say the Fizik white tape does not get dirty fast and cleans very easy, so I decided to give it a try. After I stripped off the old tape, I waffled about whether to install the Fizik tape "logo exposed" or "logo hidden." I went with exposed, since my bike already seems to represent the "logo look" to the extreme, might as well go full bore! I have to admit, I love the look - you can judge for yourself...


I hate saddle bags. Velcro may be a wonder material, but the straps that hold the bag in place invariably rub against your shorts, abrading the thin inner thigh panels, and the seat post straps cause dulling on the finish of finely glossed carbon posts. I've tried those little pocket pouches instead, but I didn't like the weighty feeling in my back pocket, and I kept forgetting to put it in my pocket. Well, for those lucky enough to have a 2007 or later vintage Fizik saddle, the Fizik ICS (integrated clip system) saddle bag is the trick. The bag attaches directly to the saddle via a small male end that fits into a receptacle on the saddle underside. Clip in, clip out, no velcro, no straps, no more rubbing. I got the small one, and with some creative packing was able to put a spare tube, two CO2 cartridges (16g), a tire lever, a small patch kit, a small multitool, and an inflator (Innovations Air Chuck - essentially just a head). I've had a couple flats since installing it, and unlike my strapped bags, I did not need to take it off the saddle in order to get everything out (but even if you did need to remove it, it's just a push of a button). Here's how it looks...


Here's the finished product. For those of you worried I've gone overboard on the white thing, I don't think I can do much more. White handlebars, maybe - but I like the K-Wings a lot, and since they're covered with white tape what's the point? White shoes - got 'em. White helmet - nah. White shorts - oh Lord no!

Close but no cigar...

The Memorial day weekend was supposed to be my first big race weekend of the season - Saturday time trial, Sunday criterium, Monday biathlon. Only the time trial happened! The crit was cancelled the previous week, so I did have some advance notice on that one, but the biathlon was cancelled just 1 hr before the scheduled start. Crap! I had this weekend marked on my calender for some time as a big weekend - even more so than the state road race last weekend. The loss of the crit wasn't too big of a blow - I just wanted to do it because I figured I could do well enough in the time trial to keep myself in the running for the overalls (hey, it could happen for me in a crit!). But the loss of the biathlon, well that was just a real kick in the arse. I had made the drive up to Troy the night before and stayed in a hotel, because at my age I need a good nights sleep and time in the morning to get ready without feeling rushed. Unfortunately, storms followed me up there and flooded part of the bike course. Why they couldn't do some kind of reroute is for smarter people than I to answer, but they didn't/couldn't do that and instead announced it would be a running-only race. To which I replied - phttt! Hey, I had fun training for and doing the St. Louis Half-Marathon and all, but as far as biathlons go running is just a path to the TT bike. I couldn't see any point in plopping down 30 bucks so I could trundle my 7-something pace along a 5-mile course - I could go home and run for free. Which I did. And it was no fun, because I felt like crap. But back to the beginning...

The time trial was a first edition race put on by Ghisallo. I've done more than a few time trials in my day, and I have to say that this was without question the most impressively organized and well-run time trial in which I've ever participated. Of course, the race route could not have been more ideal for me - for several years now I've been doing my interval training along those very roads (Centaur, Wildhorse Creek, Ossenfort). The turnaround on Ossenfort is at the turn right up to my house. This was my backyard, and I wanted it. Bad! I know every nook and cranny of those roads. I know exactly what gear to use on each rise and when to shift. I know exactly what kind of pace I can hold on each section - where a sub-hour 40k pace just isn't possible and where I can make up time. And I know exactly how the wind blows on different parts of the course (that is, until the morning of May 24). I had a fairly early start time and took advantage of this rare opportunity to actually ride my bike to a race. I left ~7am and rode down the hill to the turnaround (an orange arc thoughtfully painted on the road) - one dry run at speed convinced me it would be a piece of cake. Riding down the course to the start area though, I noticed the wind coming out of the southeast - huh? It never comes out of the southeast out here, always the west or northwest. Hmm, that means a tailwind assist going out and face-smacking headwinds on the final 1.5-mile run to the finish. Okay, that's good, I'd rather have a hard finish than a hard start - people tend to go too easy in a tailwind start because they're already going fast, then give up in the home stretch because it is sooo hard. I met my wife with the car at the church parking lot and got my wheels and helmet switched. I had talked my daughter, Mollie (12 yrs), into doing it also, so we got our numbers pinned on and timing chips installed (wow, timing chips - how cool!), and I gave her some last minute tips and warmup instructions before heading off to my start.

At the start line, my minute-man (woman) was a no-show. Two minutes up from me was none other Joe Walsh. Great - my only rabbit is local TT icon JoJo with a 2-minute head start! I wasn't too worried about getting caught, but I wasn't happy about the long odds on me catching anybody - I do better if I've got bait in sight. Oh well, nothing to do but do what I can. I made my start and settled in - the tailwind was nice but I still went pretty hard. I've learned to get up to speed quickly, then back off just a tad for the first couple miles before bringing it back up to threshold and trying to surf the line. Once there, I like to shift up and down a gear or so to avoid losing my concentration and ending up stuck in a slightly suboptimal gear. Even on a flat course, it's rare to find exactly the right cadence with a single gear, so shifting down a cog gives the legs a bit of a rest while the cardio system takes over, then shifting up lets the legs take over and gives the lungs a "breather" (hee hee). The gentle ups and downs and twists and turns of this course made doing that even more of a necessity. I was nailing the turns and apexing the course to take the shortest line, but the further along I went I just wasn't feeling like I was really getting on top of it. It was hard to judge though, because of the unusual wind direction I was holding a faster pace than normal along each stretch. I usually check my computer just before the turnaround so I can quickly calculate the total time that even-splits would give me and what pace I'll need to hold going back to hit my target - on this 11.9-mile course I figured I should be able to come in right at 28 minutes. But I got so focused on nailing the turnaround as fast as possible (which I did - rode the line perfectly) that I forget to check the computer. I realized this about 1/2-km later - okay, no big deal. I just concentrated on getting back as quick as possible. That last 1.5-mile stretch into the headwind was pretty tough, but it didn't really bother me as I've experienced the same thing in several TTs. Short of the finish I could see I was going to go over my target, and when I crossed the line at 28:26 I wasn't too thrilled - it was good but not great, and good doesn't win time trials. My wife and younger daughter (Madison, 8 yrs) were waiting for me at the finish, and together we waited for Mollie to come in - she finished with a time of 44:32, and it was pretty cool of Anthony to make a big fuss about her over the microphone after her finish (and again at the awards ceremony - thanks, Anthony! You made her day!).

Since we live so close, we went back home and cleaned up and then came back down to see the results - I still had the top spot in the Masters 50+ when I left, but when I got back I saw that Scott Sifferman beat me by almost a full minute. Damn, close but no cigar! I missed the Hermann Time Trial due to illness, got 3rd in the Tour of St. Louis Time Trial (on my first ride back from the illness), and now a 2nd place. On the bright side, I knew I wouldn't have won even if I had hit my target, but I did beat the next placed rider by a healthy margin, so a 2nd place finish seemed to be my destiny for this race. Mollie won the Juniors 10-14 - that's her 3rd win in three bike races now!

What I liked about this race:

The course

Pre-registration - walk up, sign the preprinted form, take number

Timing chips!

Markings every km on the course

Anthony on the mic - during the race and at the awards ceremony

Super friendly volunteers

Plenty of police

Handsome payouts (75 bucks for my effort!)

Close to home

What I didn't like about this race:

I DIDN'T WIN, DAMN IT!

Interview with the "BugMan"

It's May now, and the amateur bike racing season is in full swing. For this month's column, the editors here at Bikes, Bugs, and Bones caught up with Ted the "BugMan", fresh off finishing last weekend's Missouri State Road Race. Ted was kind enough to sit down with our reporter for a few moments after the race to talk about how it went.

Bikes, Bugs, and Bones: So Ted, you decided to do the Masters 50+ race this year - why not the Cat 3 race?
Good Ted: Well, I decided it was time to step up and race with some real veterans. Those guys are smart, they've been around a long time and know all the tricks. If nothing else I figured it would be a good learning experience.
Bad Ted: - What a crock! You were just scared of all those Mesa kids - they're freakin' strong and weigh only 98 lbs. - ain't no way you were gonna keep up with them as they rocketed up the big climb.

BBB: Well, how'd the race go?
GT: Not bad. I knew going into it that my fitness wasn't where it needed to be yet, so considering that I'm pretty satisfied with how I did.
BT: - You liar, you sucked like a Hoover, and you're pee owed!

BBB: Did you have any specific goals in mind for the race?
GT: Sure. Mostly I wanted to see how my fitness compares with the other guys at this point in the season. I got a late start on my training and then had some setbacks, so this was really just a reality check.
BT: Fess up, dude! You wanted to win that race - everybody wants to win and if they say otherwise they're a liar!

BBB: So, what was your biggest challenge today?
GT: Well, the biggest challenge was not knowing the competition. I haven't done much Masters racing yet, so I really didn't know most of the guys I was racing with - it makes it hard to mark moves and know which breaks have the best chance of going.
BT: Yeah, right - fatso! You would've made the moves if you knew the guys, huh, tubolub? Your biggest challenge is that ring of blob around your gut. You know that thing in the bathroom that you step on - it has a dial and little numbers on it? USE IT, FATSO!

BBB: Did you learn anything that will help you later in the season?
GT: Yeah, I'm gonna tweak my training a little bit to address some of the issues that became apparent during the race. I still need to build some more endurance, it shouldn't be a big deal.
BT: Oh, man - you're making me nauseous - you didn't learn anything except that fat slobs can't climb!

BBB: I see you finished the race, that must be satisfying considering the obstacles you've faced in your training this year.
GT: Yes, absolutely. It was a tough day on a very tough course, so to be able to finish is quite satisfying. I just need to get some more racing miles in my legs and I'll be good to go.
BT: Hah, what a load of crap! The only reason you finished is because you were stoopid enough to go ahead and do the 2nd lap even though you were long dropped. That's not an accomplishment, that's just obstinance!

BBB: What are your plans now?
GT: I'll get some rest over the next few days and then tune up for next weekend's race. It's a time trial on my home turf, so I'm hoping to do well.
BT: Blah, blah, blah! First, you're gonna go get yourself a couple of bratwursts, because apparently you're not fat enough. Then you're gonna go home and scarf down some Girl Scout cookies, because what's racing without post-event gorging, right? Finally, you'll spend the next few days thinking of some lame excuse why you didn't do crap in the time trial.

Top 5 reasons why...

...I am not going to win the State Road Race this weekend:

5. I weigh 180 lbs.
4. I weigh 180 lbs.
3. I weigh 180 lbs.
2. I weigh 180 lbs.

And the number one reason why I will not win:

1. I weigh 180 lbs.

Actually, there are more important reasons why I lack optimism for this weekend, but rather than divulge them in this embarrassingly public forum it is more convenient to make those tenacious last 5 lbs. my scapegoat. Not that I haven't been trying, I expected them to melt away during my half-marathon training - they didn't. Buckling down on food quantities over the past month has only resulted in more hunger pangs - but the scale remains unmoved. I don't know, blame it on old age.

Despite my trepidation about this weekend, it has been a pretty good last couple of weeks. José and I, both in last ditch attempts to gain some semblance of form going into the State Road Race (which, I still maintain, is far too early in the season), have had some good weekend training rides out here in the hills of Wildwood et al. Featured climbs have included Six Flags, the Allenton loop (both directions) and the always frustrating Doberman and Orrville climbs near the end of each ride. José is a great training partner for these long, leg-breaking rides. He loves hills, he's not afraid to suffer, we have similar ideas about how to train (and how not to), and we share a common world view on politics, society, and - of greatest importance - Chilean wines. He's also not afraid to explore new ground, and this past weekend our shared sense of adventure turned up an almost insurmountable obstacle called Woodland Meadows (featured in this thread on the StlBiking.com message board). I live very close to this road but had never thought to try it until José - also having noted discussion of it on the message board - asked if I knew where it was. With its maximum reported grade of 24%, it is steeper than anything I've ever tried in this area - I was game but suggested we wait until later in the ride before trying to tackle it. That turned out to be a smart choice, I think, because we really didn't know what we were in for until it was on top of us! In fact we went into it quite blind - we didn't remember which was the hard direction, or what the reported pitch was, or how long it was, etc. After coming back up Six Flags, we turned onto it off of Hwy 100. For a time, we coursed through a private neighborhood, commenting on its beauty and seclusion. Then a long, narrow, twisting descent took us to a roundabout with two road options - both looking murderously uphill. We chose the left, and we could tell quickly this was gonna be tough. I was already laboring in my 39x25 when the pitch increased even more, and for a few moments I wasn't sure I was going to be able to keep turning the pedals. I heard José muttering expletives behind me, and at the worst of it a resident shouted something to us - I don't know exactly the words, but the tone was one of encouragment. When we finally got to the top of the hill, we looked at each other, and all I could say was, "What the fµ¢k was that!?" José's Garmin verified that the maximum pitch was, indeed, 24%, and we both immediately agreed that we had just done the hardest climb in all of St. Louis Co. We joked that we should turn around, go back down, and go up the other climb, too (even though it looks to be longer yet gentler) but decided to save that for another day.

Last night was the fifth and final Wed Night Time Trial. It looked to be the best night of all in terms of weather - sunny, temps in the 60s, and a NW breeze that would make for a light cross-tailwind on the way out and light cross-headwind on the way back. I missed last week because I was SURE nobody would be there the way it had rained all day - I figured it would be stoopid for me to drive all the way up there just to find that out. Turns out, I was the one who was stoopid, as five people braved the elements to grab some easy points. Live and learn. I actually don't mind TTing in the rain, I did my fastest 40k ever (55:28) in the midst of a thunderstorm a couple years ago at the Kansas State Championships - I think the water on the road reduces rolling resistance. At any rate, there was quite a good showing for this last edition of the series, and I went about as fast as could in an effort to beat my previous time. I felt pretty good and passed three people before crossing the line with my best time yet of 21:14, but my first reaction was damn! I wanted to beat 21 min. The more I thought about it, however, 9 seconds off my previous time equates to 24 seconds in a 40k - anytime you can shave almost half a minute off a 40k, that has to be considered good improvement, so things look like they remain on track for bigger races later this season. I was 8th in the overalls, but I look forward to (hopefully) the day when I can once again routinely hit the top 5 against serious competition. I did win the 50+ in all three of the events that I did for this series, but my personal rainout from last week prevented me from capturing the series title - local icon Joe Black showed up one time more than I to capture a win for himself, thus retaining a slim, one-point advantage over me at the end of it all.

Revenge will be mine!

Starting my comeback...

What do you think of the new look? I designed it myself - okay, not really, it's just Lefty Minima, but I did tweak the wrapper and post width settings to be a little wider - just so much wasted space in those narrow canned blogger templates. Does this make me an official geek whiz now?

April didn't really work out according to plan. It started off good with a solid performance at the GO! St. Louis half marathon, after which I had intended to spend the rest of April racing myself back into good cycling form. Instead, right after the first Wed Night Time Trial, I got sick. I held out hope that it wouldn't be too bad and I could still open my season that weekend with the Tour of Hermann, but Sat morning I awoke and knew it would just be suicidal to try to race. Sunday and Monday were even worse, with deep chest congestion and a dry, hacking cough. It was pretty bad, and a slow recovery during the following week even put the next weekend's Tour of St. Louis in jeopardy. Late in the week (after a full 7 days off) I felt good enough to get in an hour or so on the bike. It was rough - my legs were noodly, and I had some persistent deep congestion that made it hard to breathe. I decided to go ahead and do just the Saturday Time Trial but skip the crits and hopefully get in some quality training on Sunday.

The Tour of St. Louis Time Trial, held at Columbia Bottom Conservation Area in north St. Louis Co., was a flat, fast 9-mile course on ultra smooth pavement with gentle, sweeping turns, a high-speed turnaround, and (almost) no cars. I wasn't expecting to do anything special, given my lackluster performance at the first Wed Night Time Trial and recent sickness, but any chance to do a TT is good for training. Besides, you never know who will show - maybe I could place. I got a late start time with the P12s so I was kinda scared maybe I would get caught. With 1-minute start intervals and such a short course that would be mortifying! In all the TTs I've ever done, I've only been passed by one person - Joe Hill, who started 3-min behind me at the 2004 Missouri State Time Trial and turned in a 52-flat to capture the P12 title! That one I could handle, otherwise I really wanted to keep my "no-pass" streak alive. Fortunately, I did alright - better than I expected - and finished in 20:50, which was good enough for 3rd place in the Masters 50+. I can't say I felt very good, and the persistent congestion wasn't helping, but I was pleased with the effort - helped no doubt by the sight of my 1-min man during the last few miles (although I didn't catch him).

Sunday I skipped the crit and looked forward to some long riding. I started off with a 7-mile run and felt okay, then hopped on the bike. Of course, it was FRICKIN' COLD! It's frickin' late April, and I still haven't gotten to wear a summer kit on the bike! I didn't feel that great and so pedaled easy. I just couldn't get settled in, and my congestion didn't seem to be any better. Only 10 miles into the ride I was hungry, so I ate a bar. I got hungry again after another 10 miles but forced myself to wait (perhaps stupidly) until the 25-mile mark to eat my 2nd bar and top off my sport drink. I stopped at this gas station that I stop at a lot (Mobil, Geyer and Manchester), bought the drink, and asked if they had any water. The lady said there was no water fountain, so I said, "You got a sink?" Well, she hmpfd and shrugged while sticking her hand out for me to give her my water bottle, like she was so inconvenienced! Customer service, don't you just love it? I wanted to tell her there was another convenience store just down the street that I'll stop at from now on so she won't have to be so inconvenienced by me anymore, but I held my tongue. The second bar and energy drink should have perked me right up, but it didn't so after another hour of riding I figured I better just head home. Five miles from home I felt it - the bonk! I bonked on forty miles of riding! Those last five miles were pretty horrible, as it had also started to rain, and I was pretty much useless for the rest of the day. I'm still baffled - perhaps I just tried to do too much too soon, or maybe I didn't refuel quickly enough after the previous evening's time trial, or (probably) I'm just an old codger and can't do this stuff anymore.

Monday I was still not very recovered - I wanted to do the St. Charles group ride but decided not to try any trickery, just spin the legs, get a good workout, and see if I felt better. I did (though still congested), but the whole experience was marred by some incredibly dangerous, boneheaded riding by someone who really should know better. It wasn't just my opinion, but I was the only person who tried to say something, and the reaction wasn't good. Person 'X' has a reputation as a hothead but has always treated me square - until now. At least we got rid of 'X' for the finale, although I didn't contest it.

Tuesday I did a short 4-mile run and felt horrible! Tired, congested - not much else to say.

Wednesday was my return to the Wed Night Time Trial. Conditions were windy (again!), but it was more of a straight headwind out and tailwind back rather than the slashing crosswinds of the first week. I did much better, and for the first time since getting sick it seemed like I was breathing okay. I caught my minute man and took close to 2-min off my Week 1 time to get myself back into the top 10. More importantly, I felt really good, and though I still have work to do at least now it looks like things are progressing. I'm gonna skip the Washington race this weekend - I just really have no business doing crits right now - so it looks like State Road Race will be my first real race of the season. (Caveat - who also agrees that State RR is just too early? Mid-May, c'mon! You've still got too big a spread in fitness levels at that time of year. I think a state RR should be no earlier than June, and preferably later - let all those who think they've got a shot spend the summer boning up for it, and then let 'em duke it out on a long course with variable terrain - not favoring any particular type of rider - in difficult (i.e., hot) conditions. It shouldn't just be a win, it should be a survival against tough competition in tough conditions. End of rant).

Today was a much needed and deserved day of rest. The week of training didn't start out good, but it ended well. And as we all know, it's what you've done lately that counts!

Wed Night Time Trial

Yeah, after all these years (I say that like I'm an old timer) we finally have a weekly time trial series in the area. I've been wishing for something like this since I got into cycling and found a natural love for all things TT. Other places have 'em - Indiana, Wisconsin, SoCal. Big ones too, with a hundred people showing up each week to preen and suffer. I think people around here have just gotten so used to not having to time trial that they don't see it's value - as a training tool, as a trackable measure of fitness, as a way to become a complete bike racer. A weekly TT series is not just good for people who like to time trial, it's good for people who go for race weekend overalls - especially when one of the races is a TT. Speaking of which, we've got two of 'em coming up - Tour of Herman, and Tour of St. Louis, as well as Velo In The Valley later in May. Last night was the inaugaral race, and a solid 35 people showed up. Some were the usual suspects - Justin in his now customary #1 slot, Dr. Mark - the start list looked like a Who's Who of past State TT medalists. But there were lots of new folks, too - it was nice to see all the 4s and 5s out there not afraid to step up to the line. It's only a 5-week series, but 15k on flat, straight, almost zero-traffic roads is a perfect distance - hopefully the series will succeed and become a fixture in the St. Louis cycling scene.

For all the gushing I'm doing, you'd think I'd won the damn thing. Far from it! Now, I'm not one to make excuses - especially at a time trial - it is, afterall, the "race of truth." But I just haven't had enough time yet in the saddle this season, especially the saddle on that bike. The aerobic fitness is there from all the half-marathon training, but the muscle strength isn't anywhere near what it needs to be. A bigger problem was the brutal cross-headwind on the way out - combined with my lack of time in the aerobars I was too worried about crashing and ended up going the whole way out with my left hand out on the wing. The winds even caused me to not run my disc and deep rim wheels for fear of crashing, opting instead to use my less aero but only 16-spoke Dura Ace wheelset. It took me almost 13 minutes to reach the turnaround, so it didn't really matter that I felt a lot better on the way back with the cross-tailwind - I'd already lost too much time. My time of 23:17 put me outside the top 10 in the overall standings - unfamiliar ground for me. Clearly I have a lot of work to do.

Hey all you Marys, come on out and step up - here's your chance to beat the BugMan in a time trial! And don't forget to thank Joe & PJ Walsh for bringing the TT back to St. Louis.

Race report - GO! St. Louis half-marathon

I've done a few biathlons over the past couple of years, and even poached a frostbite series race in early '05 (10k, I think), but nothing prepared me for what I experienced on Sunday at the GO! St. Louis marathon/half-marathon. You can talk to tons of people who've done it before, and still the enormity of the event is hard to comprehend until you actually head to the start line. I can't really say I was nervous for this, my first attempt at a half-marathon - my training had gone by the book, I had a good week of taper, and physically I felt just about perfect. I also knew that however the day turned out was entirely up to me - a welcome change from the crits and road races where I always have to worry about some bonehead crashing me out (shouldn't be as much a problem this year, as I plan to do strictly geezer category from now on). I had a goal, and today I would find out whether I would achieve it. What I was feeling was anticipation, excitement, and pure wonder at the seething mass of humanity gathering behind a thin orange line on Market Street and 14th. As it turned out, over 13,000 people were toeing the line on what looked to be an absolutely perfect day for a race. My run group leader, Jen, was doing the marathon, and we had had some good training runs in the weeks leading up to the race. Over those weeks we discussed what kind of time I might be able to shoot for. After doing my 1st mile test (I hadn't run for several months before that), she thought a sub-2hr was a good target. "I know that seems slow, but that's a good time for a first half-marathon," she said. After a few weeks of speed work, however, she looked at my times and thought maybe I could do an 8:30-pace (~1:52). In the final weeks, my times had improved to the point that she decided I should shoot for 8-min miles, which would be a finishing time of 1:45. So that was my goal (the one I kept secret in the last post). I really wasn't sure I could do it - an 8:30 pace seemed much more doable - but the challenge was there, I had to go for it.

I found Jen at the start line - she told me to meet her at the 8:00 pace sign. Jen was shooting for 3:30 in the marathon - also an 8-min pace, and since the marathoners and half-marathoners would run the same course until the 9-mile mark, the plan was for me to run with her pace group and see how I felt. How great is that, to be able to run with my coach for the first 9 miles of my first half-marathon. The race started, and I was across the start line in under 2 minutes - quite different from my experience at L'Etape du Tour, where I lined up near the back of ~7,000 racers and didn't cross the start line until almost half an hour after the start. Anyway, the pace leader quickly established a slightly sub-8 pace. For the first 6 miles I felt fine - it was a fast pace for me, but I've done short distances at faster pace. Jen and I chatted while I soaked in the experience of cheering fans along the course (in this way it was very much like L'Etape du Tour). We came back through the starting area - here the crowds were huge - and then headed west on Market Street for miles 6-9 before the marathoners and half-marathoners separated. I started feeling like I was in a little bit of trouble. Jen had moved up in front of the pace leader, but I had gotten back a little bit and just could not close the gap. All the way down Market and onto Forest Parkway I stuggled a bit to keep the gap from getting any bigger. It's not a problem like in a bike race, where you lose a draft and then you're sunk, but I just didn't want to throw away the slight time cushion that the pace leader had established on our target time. At mile 8 I felt a twinge in my left hamstring - uh oh! I favored it a little and it didn't feel any better, so I ran normal on it and it didn't feel any worse. I pushed the creeping thoughts of a DNF out of my head - lah lah lah! I wanted to wish Jen luck when we separated at mile 9, but she was too far up, so I split off with the other half-marathoners. I suddenfly felt alone - there were plenty of people to get behind when we were all together, but now we were spaced apart pretty well and I had to go hunting for people who I thought were keeping a good pace that I could draft behind. I checked my watch, and I was about a minute up on my target pace - I did some quick mental calculations and felt a little relieved knowing that I could run an 8:24 pace for the last 4 miles and still hit my goal of 1:45. I was not feeling good, and miles 10-13 would be uncharted territory for me.

Right after the split, we passed the first GU handout station - I grabbed one and sucked it down and then drank some water. I settled behind this one guy who looked like he was keeping the pace. Eventually I started feeling like I could go faster, so I latched onto a girl who had come by me. After a few seconds, she looked back and then veered sharply to the side of the course - hmm, I guess she didn't want me on her very pleasing tail! So I grabbed onto another guy on the other side of the course. We passed her. At each mile sign I looked at my watch and could see that not only was I not losing time on my pace, I was actually gaining time - sweet! The last mile was pretty tough, but it was all downhill and I was now concentrating on trying to gain as much time as possible - I didn't want to just make 1:45, I wanted to beat it. When I came around the last corner I looked at my watch and saw I had gained another minute in those last 4 miles - gotta love negative splits! I crossed the line at 1:43:08 - average pace 7:52! Okay, I know - that's nothing compared to the winner, who ticked out a 5:30 pace to finish in 1:08 plus change, but I'm not a runner, remember? Lynne and the girls said they saw me break into a big grin when I looked at my watch near the finish.

My legs were pretty trashed afterwards - my hamstring was really bothering me (although it has recovered fine since and apparently was not a muscle pull, as I had feared). We hung around to watch the marathoners finish, and I especially wanted to see if Jen would hit her 3:30 target. Just before her expected arrival I found a good spot near the finish - it was a strange dichotomy watching the elite marathoners finishing down one chute with the slowest of the half-marathoners trotting, walking, and limping down the other chute. At 3:27 Jen came around the corner looking fabulous - she, too, had continued to gain time on her target pace. Not only was this a PR for her, but it was good enough for 3rd OVERALL MASTERS WOMEN - wow! I'm proud just to say who I've been training with! Congratulations, Jen!

I am first and formost a cyclist - that will not change. But doing a half-marathon was really fun - fun training for it, and fun racing it. Even though I'll never be a true runner, I'll definitely do another half-marathon - and maybe someday the full!

250 miles down, 13.1 to go

This Sunday is the GO! St. Louis half-marathon, and there's nothing more I can do to prepare for it other than rest up. I know, I know... this is supposed to be a cycling blog - but running is what I've focused on lately, and running is what your gonna get. I'll get back to the cycling starting next week.

Signing up for the half-marathon was kind of a hair-brained, impulsive decision on my part - I'm not usually the impulsive type - but at the time I felt like I needed a different kind of challenge. That was 14 weeks ago, and I've faithfully followed my prescribed training program - tempo run with the group on Wednesdays, solo speed work at the track on Fridays, and progressively longer runs with the group on Sundays. I did my final workout today - a quick 2-mile run just to keep the legs opened up, followed by a tasty pasta dinner at our group leader's home for some carbo-loading.

Having completed the full, 14-wk training plan pretty much as specified was in itself an accomplishment. I've realized that one of the biggest challenges of a long-distance run is not the run itself, but making it through the training program without missing workouts due to injury or sickness. I missed just one workout, about halfway through, when a chest cold grabbed me pretty good. I got another cold a couple weeks later, but it stayed mild enough to train through, and these past few weeks I've felt great. I've had no knee pain, no shin splints, no plantar fasciitis, and no back problems - despite doing all my speed workouts on the indoor track (one even on the treadmill). I've been fortunate, especially at my age since it takes longer to recover from such injuries. I filled out the training by cycling on three of the non-running days each week and taking full rest on the fourth. And Sundays became truly epic - after finishing the long run, I would go to St. Louis Bread Company, change into my cycling clothes (even on those extremely cold days), and get in another 2+ hours on the bike. Such punishing brick workouts could not go unrewarded, so I would hang at SLBC afterwards and enjoy coffee and pastries.

I have a time goal, but I don't think I'll say it here - all my running partners know what it is. All I can say is it's a stretch goal - especially for a first-timer. I think it's good to have two goals - one stretch, and one a little more realistic (but still requiring a solid effort). I will say this - I cannot wait to get focused back on cycling! I'm looking at the race calender, and I see two TT's in April, a TT in May, and a TT series during April-May - not to mention State TT later this year as well as neighboring states if I choose. It's like I've died and gone to TT heaven! (I'll bet you've never heard anyone say that before!). I don't know what kind of TT form I'll have, but if it's off I'll have fun racing back into it. I may even keep up with the running and hit the biathlon scene this summer, just for the added chances to womp it on my TT bike. And perhaps that is the biggest reward I'm getting from signing up for the half-marathon - a resurgence in my desire to race my bicycle!

Hillsboro-Roubiax Race Report

Last Saturday was the 7th edition of the Hillsboro-Roubiax Road Race. The 1st edition of this race was my first bike race ever, and I've done it every year since except '04 (bug collecting in Texas)...
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...and this year :-(

Did it rain here... or something?

I know I haven't posted in a while, but I've decided I don't like you guys anymore. Not true -- I'm just on another hiatus from bike racing (still training though) until after the Go St. Louis half marathon in 2 weeks. I also just got back from spring break - a week in California. My, my -- it seems you've had a bit of rain here while I was gone. And what do I come back to? More phuquin winter -- geez!

Skiing was great at Tahoe, and spring has definitely sprung in San Francisco, so I figured the worst would be over by now in Missouri and was looking forward to getting back on the bike in warm(er), dry(er) weather for a change. I got home at 10pm last night and checked the weather - forecast was for a high of 43F with pm rain. Okay, maybe not so warm but dry -- at least in the morning. I got up at for my 6:30am run (4:30am California time!), and as soon as I left the house it started snowing - huh? Okay, not so warm and maybe not so dry either, but dammit I'm gonna ride after the run anyway. I'm in week 12 of my 14-week half-marathon training, so today was my longest scheduled run - 12 miles. I felt great! The snow was coming down hard but not sticking, so I remained committed to my brick. In the last half-mile of the run, I turned into the wind and looked up the gentle climb for the finish, only to realize I wouldn't be able to see it until I was right upon it. I put my head down to bull through, and started noticing how the snow, which at the time was more like little ice pellets, was bouncing off of me as I ran -- it looked like I was plowing through it the way the wind was driving it against me and then bouncing off as I ran. I sort of meditated on the sight of that to the end of the run (1:49:15 on a hilly course at a comfortable pace), then looked at the streets. Visibility was down to 13 inches, and slush was beginning to collect on the roads. I finally allowed my second thoughts about riding afterwards to surface -- riding on those roads, with that visibility, among drivers who the last thing they are expecting to encounter on the road is a cyclist -- just didn't seem very smart. I hung out at St. Louis Bread Co. to see if conditions improved, but everytime it seemed like it was over it would start up again. Eventually, I accepted fate -- an outdoor ride was not gonna happen. Did I need to ride? No, I'd just had a fantastic week of skiing, hiking, and running, mostly at +6,000 ft elevation. My blood feels so pumped full of oxygen I wish the race were tomorrow. Did I want to ride? Damn straight - it's been about 5 months since I've worn summer kit on a dry, sunny day.

Oh well, maybe tomorrow's weather will be unsucky enough that I can get out for an hour or so. If not, I guess I can always just RUN!

Saludos de Argentina!

Escribo de Buenos Aires, donde me encuentro esta fin de semana entre reuniones de negocios ayer en Pergamino (al oeste de Buenos Aires) y São Paulo toda la semana que viene. Okay, I better switch to English before I lose both of my readers. Obviously, I’m in Argentina today, and I think this is just so cool I’m posting to my blog from here. I’m on a business trip, and though I used to come here quite often it has been 6 years since my last trip.

I love Argentina. Viva la Argentina! I highly recommend this as a vacation destination if you ever have la oportunidad. I’ve seen much of the country - Iguazu Falls in the northeast on the border with Brazil, one of the most fantastically beautiful spots on earth; the Andes Mountains to the west, where I’ve hiked up the base of Aconcagua (the tallest peak in the Western Hemisphere - our hike began at 15,000 ft, higher than the tallest point in the contiguous 48 states); the wine growing region of Mendoza, with reds and whites that rival the best from California but remain largely unknown outside of the country; and, of course, for my work the central Humid Pampas region, which is the breadbasket of the country.

But enough of the Tourism Office propaganda. I guess the only reason I have to make this post on my cycling blog is to serve as justification for why I can’t be cycling right now. Not that I haven’t - I’m in week 7 now of my half-marathon training program, which calls for 3 days of running each week and 3 days of cross-training - that means cycling! I’m actually getting 4 days of cycling by making Sunday a brick workout - I do my progressively longer run with my training group each Sunday morning and then hop on the bike for an additional 2-3 hours of base training and hill work. I’m feeling good - y’all better watch out for me! As much as I don’t want to, I also take my weekly rest day.

Just because I’m traveling though, it doesn’t mean I skip the training. I may not be able to cycle, but I can use the workout rooms in the hotels - BORING as that may be. But my runs don’t have to be boring, and today’s run was a real treat. I did my long run - 7 miles this week - and one might think that B.A. (what everyone here calls Buenos Aires) would contain no uninterrupted stretchs with clean air for running. However, there just happens to be a large nature reserve on the Rio de la Plata, less than a mile from my hotel in el centro de la ciudad, with a 5-mile crushed gravel loop going through it. I walked through downtown to the outskirts of the reserve, then ran the 1 mile to the entrada, the 5 miles through the reserve, and the final mile back from the entrada to where I started. It’s a beautiful reserve, and I had a nice run, although I must admit the last mile was somewhat difficult as I was trying to maintain an 8:30 pace for the run (my race-day target). Perhaps the heat had something to do with it - it’s summer here, and I haven’t sweated like I did today in quite some time.

There were bicycles for rent near the reserve, but they are the hodey-dodey kind so I will probably resign myself to the stationary cycle tomorrow. I can deal with it, as I actually resorted to the indoor trainer a couple weeks ago (when we had that last snow) - it was the first time I’d been on the trainer and not warming up for a race in at least dos años. It sucked, but I realized I could do it in a pinch, and now I look forward (cough, cough) to tomorrow’s session on the stationary bike. I’ll fly to Brazil on Monday and be there through Friday, so I’m planning alternate days of running and the stationary bike while I’m there. I’m not so confident I’ll be able to run outside in São Paulo - it’s a rather dangerous city, much unlike B.A., so I may be doing my runs on a treadmill. It’s a rat’s life!

Winter cycling tips - update!

So I went out again today, and the temps were in the mid-teens so I wore my 'invisible man' getup again. I had ridden a few miles and was feeling rather superior when I saw another cyclist coming from the opposite direction. Wow, the first cyclist I had seen on the road since last week! As he got closer, I could see he was riding a hybrid and wearing street clothes and a winter coat with:
- NO gloves
- NO helmet
- NO headgear of any kind

Plus, he was headed into a rather stiff N headwind while I enjoyed the tailwind assist. I don't know how long he was out or how much longer he planned to be out, but his hands and head were bright red! I hope I don't hear about him on the news tonite. If I don't, I must regretfully hand him the 'hard man' trophy.

Winter Cycling Tips

For several years now I've been a dedicated outdoor winter cyclist. Not that I particularly enjoy harsh conditions, I simply detest riding the indoor trainer. Winters in St. Louis tend to be rather open, but that doesn't mean conditions can't at times be very challenging. This past weekend was a perfect example, as an arctic blast brought temperatures down into the single digits. However, with no precipitation and sunny skies, this was no reason to abandon my rides. I got in 2.5 hours Saturday morning (8°F at the start) and nearly 3 hours Sunday morning (5°F at the start, after a 1-hour trail run). I didn't see another cyclist the entire weekend (though surely someone must have been out), and if any of you got in this kind of time on a trainer, well I salute you.

Cold weather cycling is not everyone's cup of tea, but for those so inclined the right gear can make the difference between getting a good workout and suffering badly. I've put together an ensemble for dealing with the cold - I don't claim it will work for everyone, but surely it will work for someone. Contrary to what most people preach, I don't use too many layers - at least on my core. I find excessive layers not only bulky but also prone to overheating, and it's just not practical to stop and add or remove layers when you get too warm or too cold. I prefer to use minimal layers of high-performing fabrics that can handle a wider range of temperatures. I also believe that you get what you pay for - if you buy cheap crap, you get cheap crap. I'm not saying bargains cannot be found, but in general I've not been very happy with low-end or off-brand items. It's not really a bargain if it doesn't perform, and when it comes to cold weather cycling, performance is really the only metric.

It all starts with a base layer. I use this long sleeve base by Assos - it has insulating front panels (black) for wind protection with mesh on the sides (grey) to allow for ventilation. It is very lightweight but provides enough warmth that I need no other layers underneath my thermal jacket, no matter how cold it is.


Thermal tights are a necessity, and bibs provide a little more wind protection on the front (along with their greater comfort). I use these Giordana thermals and need no additional layers underneath. Zippers on the back of each cuff make it easy to get your feet in and out. The reflective highlights are useful if you ride or find yourself caught in dark conditions.


A good thermal jacket completes the core ensemble. This team jacket is made by Castelli, and as mentioned above, when combined with a good winter base layer provides all the warmth one needs. At higher temps (upper 20s to low 30s) an adjustment of the zipper is all one needs to fine tune, and I have yet to find a temperature low enough that the jacket/base layer combination can't handle.


Keeping feet warm is a problem because of low blood circulation and typically cramped quarters inside the shoe. Some people wear multiple sock layers, but I've not had much luck doing this, as compression eliminates dead air space and defeats the insulating benefit. I've been most happy with this pair of Assos wool socks - thick enough to provide some real warmth, but not so thick they make things tight in the shoe, especially with this pair of Shimano shoes, which have a little bit roomier toe box. Don't forget to put a piece of electrical tape over the vent hole on the sole. A good pair of thermal booties (these are Pearl Izumi) is a must and is normally all I need with the wool socks, but for really cold conditions like this past weekend I'll add some wind socks (these are Castelli windblockers) over the wool socks. Some people recommend chemical heat packs over the toe between the shoe and bootie - this seems like a good idea, but I've really not needed to try it. I know a few people who use battery powered heated sole inserts or winter shoes, which also seem like good (albeit more expensive) ideas. Again, I haven't felt the need to go to that expense, as the items I show here have been enough to keep my feet warm in even the worst conditions.


Hand warmth is a huge challenge and is still my limiting factor on how cold I can go. I've tried all sorts of gloves, and my best results have been with this Assos winter glove system. It consists of a light, thin liner, a wind-blocking full-fingered glove, and a lobster-style shell for extra wind protection. I like this three piece system because it allows flexibility for changing conditions, e.g. after warming up good you can remove the shell for dexterity without needing to carrying an extra set of gloves. In conditions like this weekend, however, nothing gets removed.


I don't have much problems keeping my head and face warm with this setup. The first layer is a Giordana balaclava - best to get one with a fleece lining, as the non-fleece models don't provide enough warmth at temps below freezing. When temps fall below ~20°F I'll add this skull cap (Castelli) that I also wear alone at temps in the 40s. For really frigid conditions like this past weekend, I add this Giordana face mask - the combination of these three items provides complete coverage of the entire head/face except for the area just around the eyes, which are of course covered by my sunglasses. At less than frigid temps the balaclava can just be pulled up over your mouth as needed, but if it's cold enough that you need your nose covered then it is better to go ahead and add the face mask - it's warmer, and you can control fogging of the glasses better . Fogging is caused by moisture-laden breathe directed up from the mask or balaclava to behind your glasses - this can be minimized easier with a face mask since it can be cinched tight against the cheeks, while a balaclava can't. Even so, fogging can still be a problem when at a stop, or with heavy breathing during low-speed climbing (no wind to dissapate the moist air). In these cases it helps to purse your lips against the inside of the mask to force air out through the mask. Glasses with ventilated lenses also help reduce fogging.


I normally get dressed in a heated building, and when it's really cold I also try to find a heated space to put on my gloves, headwear, and footwear. If this is not available or convenient, I do so in the front seat of my car, doors closed. Try to avoid putting on these items out in the frigid cold - it really makes a difference. Add sunglasses and helmet (and a bike!) and you're ready to go! I do suggest taking off your sunglasses before entering the Quick Stop for a hot chocolate break or you're liable to be mistaken as a person with malicious intentions!


Soon after starting out when the wind chill starts taking its effect and my body hasn't yet warmed up is the toughest part of the ride, but once I get warmed up I have little problem even with temps in the single digits. My hands are the only real issue, as the thumb and first two finger tips get chilled quickly while I'm still trying to warm up. When this happens, I remove my fingers and thumb from the glove fingers of one hand but keep them inside the glove and make a fist, alternately holding my thumb inside and outside my fist until they get warmed up again. Then I replace them into the glove fingers and do the other hand (I alternate hands so that I always have one 'good' hand for braking and maneuvering). Eventually, once your blood is flowing warm, your hands will stay warm - usually in ~15-20 minutes. In really frigid conditions you may need to do this on and off all during the ride.

Don't expect this ensemble to give the feel of a Tahitian vacation! As I mentioned above, mental fortitude and time spent conditioning as fall and winter progress are also required. Proper gear just helps to raise your threshold - hopefully to the point where cold alone is not enough to cause you to punt on a workout. If anyone else has good suggestions of their own on handling the cold I'd love to hear them.