The Short One Posts Photos of Palmer...

Action is here.

Can you really look at these pictures and tell me with a straight face that cyclocross season hasn't begun?

Race Report: Palmer Cyclocross 2009--3 Mechanicals and a Full Speed Yard Sale Crash

I got home from work after midnight on Thursday and I had a meeting early Friday morning. But my mud tubulars needed to be glued. Even in my advanced state of exhaustion, I completed one of my better mounting jobs in record time (under an hour for final coat, mounting, setting/straightening and broomsticking). Tubular cement needs 24 hours to cure and this was my last opportunity to get these on in time for Palmer.

It started raining Friday night and built to a steady downpour over night. This was going to be messy.

Upon arriving at the venue, there was lots of miserable looking cat 4's covered in mud, many sporting fresh wounds and broken bikes. The rain was steady and relentless. Reports indicated that course conditions were deteriorating by the minute.

Most of the course is double track, all of it degraded. In some places the degradation just produces deep ruts, in others it exposes gnarly roots and rocks.

I got one course inspection lap. And it was scary. Everything was slick and covered in mud the consistency of room-temperature butter. This was not your tacky mud, or even your famous sucking peanut butter mud, but super-slick, greasy mud. It coated everything. Turns that would be demanding when dry became unpredictable and dangerous at any speed. Raised roots were partially hidden as mud was slopped up on them and then pushed off when a rider slipped out on them. Ruts were filled with mud which obscured thier depth and treachery. The only two breaks from the stressfulness of the course were the slick grass sections that I was able to rail through with my newly earned improvement in bike handling skills and the long run up and down and run up again, which left me (and everyone else) exhausted.

I was cautiously confident in my chances to do well in this race. I felt that my handling skills were on and my fitness was/is there. I had mud specific tubulars (Tufo Cubus) which I ran at 25 and 28 psi. But everything went wrong.

There were about 35 guys on the starting line. I did everything I could to let them all beat me.

I missed my clip in and did a reverse hole shot, aka a Cary Fridrich. I was basically DFL going into first corner and the single track. I was stuck behind the poorest of the poor bike handlers. I seethed as I knew that the leaders were putting serious time into me while I dithered at the back. I couldn't pass effectively since we were riding on slick downhill double track that had one clean line. Deviation from that line would cost you dearly, as I repeatedly found out when I took ridiculous risks to get around guys who were wisely riding the brakes. I gained a few spots, but the stress of doing so took years off my life.

The downhill ends at a deep mudpit/pond. Seriously, if you hit your head, you could drown in it. Frustrated with watching my teammates ride away from me, I shouldered folks aside to gain places while running/splashing/flailing through the water.






While doing so, I knocked my left front canti into something solid and caused it to go past my rim, down to the spoke area where it proceeded to lock up my front wheel. I was forced to stop and undo my front quick release to fix it. I accomplished the fix easily thanks to the Igleheart's lack of lawyer tabs.

Now I was seeing red. We weren't even a quarter of the way through the first lap and I was off the back. Enraged would be a good descriptor.

This next section was a series of grassy (read muddy and slick) S turns, off cambers and switchbacks that snaked up and down a small rise, eventually cresting the hill and feeding into a gentle downhill ending in a greasy, blind corner feeding into the woods. This section is not long, maybe less than a fifth of the whole course. Again, I was enraged. I rode through half field in this section, ala Cary Fridrich. I didn't brake once. I took inside lines and passed people easily, if not rudely. When I got to Spaits, I gave him some consideration and waited until it was safe instead of forcing the issue. Seriously, Cary would have been proud of my recovery.

Going into the woods, the course gets scary (at least for a cross race). I was able to keep the gas down and also stayed off the brakes. Passing was dangerous and difficult. But I was assertive but tried to remain safe. Since I had only had one preride, I was unfamiliar with the good lines. I often found myself on the roughest part of the course, praying that I didn't get bounced into a tree at full speed.

The middle section of the course is a fast rutted workroad that has a few fast curves. If you are stay on the good line and can handle a bike, you could keep the speed high and stay off the brakes. There was a rider ahead of me sliding all over the place, but maintaining a good pace. I didn't see any point in passing him, but also stayed a bit back since his rear wheel was bucking and jerking wildly making me think that a crash was imminent.

I passed my guy heading into the run up. He applied the brakes and unclipped before the rooty mud bog before the run, while I came screaming into it, riding my bucking bike as if it were a bronco. Had I not been running tubulars, I'd have double flatted for sure.

I reached the run up gassed. Gary was ahead of me. Being the good team mate that I am, I dug deep in order to drop him while running. He stepped aside when he realized that it was me. Apparently, this is where he gave up. Um, seriously he actually gave up and dropped out of the race shortly after this. He offered no real explanation afterward other than that he would have been disappointed with his result if he remained in the race.

At this point, I settled in. I was still in the first of 6 laps and feeling pretty tired. My adrenaline from the mechanical failure was wearing off and the pace was starting to hurt. Also, I was not reeling in riders anymore. I had caught all of the riders that desperate riding could catch, now it was time for steady rhythm and sustainable suffering.

My second lap was much better than my first. I was basically alone. I took my own lines and stayed off the brakes. About half way through I caught Eric Goodson of BRC and Sebastien Dumont of Cape Cod Racing. Together we three formed a little group who fought it out for the next 4 and a half laps.

I got the first gap, probably in the 3rd lap. Then I bobbled the a run up. Actually, I tried to ride a ridiculously rooty, slick runup. I slipped out and fell over while still clipped in. I hit my rear left canti, knocking it below the rim. F***. It took me a few seconds to figure out why my rear wheel wouldn't spin. Meanwhile I was passed by the dudes I had just attacked. I had failed to properly adjust my brake pads when I swapped wheels. What a JV move. I wailed on the rim with the palm of my hand until the brake pad popped back into place.

Shortly after this, one of the race organizers was yelling riders placing at them. I heard "7th...8th..." and then "...9th..." as I passed.

I spent the next half lap riding beyond my abilities in order to get back into 7th place. The leader had over 3 minutes. More on that later. Either way, I knew that 7th was about the best that I could hope for, though I knew that race changing crashes and mechanicals were likely.

I caught my group. We rode together. I attacked again, and again I got a gap. I was really laying down the watts to create a mental gap. I wanted to get out of sight. I almost did it.

But as I was slobbering and panting, riding myself inside out on the rutted workroad, I felt myself slipping. It was in slow motion. My front wheel was slipping out from under me to the left and I was going to the right. There was nothing that I could do to correct it, I'm not saying that a superior bike handler like Colin Reuter couldn't have saved it, but not this roady with one season of part time mountain biking. By the time I realized what was happening, I was already a quarter of the way down. I stuck my right hand out to break the fall in classic collarbone breaking style. As I was about to impact, I realized that I was going to break something if I landed with my hand extended straight out at that speed. I pulled the arm in just in time.

It didn't hurt. But I was blinded. I literally ate shit. There was mud packed into my mouth, eyes, ears, up my nose, down the front of my jersey and even into my bib shorts.



Like lots. Clods. Piles. Pounds of it. Seriously pounds. I had to scoop it out of my eyes. It fell away in chunks.

The bike was obviously messed up. The chain was dropped on the outside and sort of wrapped around my front derailleur, my shifters were knocked aschew, my pedals were packed up with mud.

I put/knocked everything back into place and started pedaling. I gave up. For a minute. Then I realized that I had only been passed by two dudes. I concentrated on taking good lines and staying off the brakes, reeling them in slowly.

I had so much mud on my gloves and one my handlebars that I had no grip. It felt like my bars were made out of Vaseline. The mud squirted through my fingers and complicated every effort to shift or brake.

I caught them again in the next lap. We traded blows. I'd attack, skid off trail and have to work my way back up. Eventually Goodson and I wore Dumont out.

Goodson took the lead through most of the last lap after I had to lock up the brakes to avoid a tree. I was waited until after the barrier section to attack him. I got around him at the foot of the second to last ride/runup. I basically out ran him. He was breathing down my neck on the sucking, saturated grassy ride into the final run up. I pinched off his passing avenue by cutting inside very close to the tree and holding my shouldered bike across the whole path.

I had my bike on the pavement first and should have won the sprint. My cassette is old and my chain is new. 9 of the 10 cogs work just fine. I found the one that didn't. Goodson got around me as I furiously batted at my shifter to get in a working gear. Goodson deserved to beat me, he rode a hell of a race.

I got 8th, but I should have gotten 7th. Another a++hole Canadian cat 1 was here in the 3/4 race. This was different one than last week. This series must be posted on a sandbagger message board north of the border. POS put 4 minutes into us in the 3/4 and then went on to win the elite race an hour later. Seriously, the promoters of this series need to start checking foreign licenses. This is becoming frustrating.

While I am dissapointed in my crappy start and frustrated with my mechanical failures (really they were failures of my mechanic, RMM), I am also glad that I am getting the chance to iron this stuff out before the high pressure races later in the season.

Race Report: Blunt Park Cyclocross Race 3/4-- 2009

I was pretty keyed up for this race. I did well at Blunt Park last year (5th) and expected a good result this year too. My big goal was to beat Chris Bailey, as this was the only race that I beat him at last year. I didn't rest particularly for this race, but I have been training through the heat on my Igleheart, which helped me continue riding through the high heat and humidity today.

I had a well planned and uneventful prerace, with the exception of tire selection. I had planned on racing on my Tufo tubulars from last season, but when I inflated them yesterday, one of them had a really big hole. I was forced to race on Michelin Mud 2 clinchers. These tires ended up being a good selection.

We arrived 2 hours early, I got in three course inspection laps, including one hot lap right before staging. The course was easier than last year. They took out two of the dismounts and moved the barriers to a slight uphill. Otherwise, it was the same mountain bike friendly, winding, rooty race as last year. There were isolated areas of mud, but that mud was mostly tacky and predictable. The recent rain held the dust down.

As a note, my little ring on my cross cranks is chewed. So badly that it makes grinding noises when I shift into it. I planned on replacing it, but I ordered the incorrect BCD. I have been training in the big ring and planned on keeping it in the big ring for the whole race. Since there are no real hills at Blunt Park, I was hoping that this wouldn't present a problem.

There were 50+ hungry riders who have been burning for a cyclocross race for 9 monthes. I got a front row position next to Bailey. Then I made room and pulled Scott Glowa up next to me so that he could have an opportunity at the hole shot too.

As usual, the tension was palpable. I made the usual urination jokes and disapprovingly felt the tire pressure of every rider within reaching distance, punctuated by pointing out where they were going wrong.

Our race started tamely. There wasn't much jostling on the pavement, as none of us wanted to pull. Except one guy. Some Canadian Cat 1 was racing the 3/4 as a warmup for the 1-2-3. I'm not sure why he was allowed to race with us. He rode off the front right away and eventually put over half a lap into second place.

We mercilessly heckled him through the entire elite race, calling him a sandbagger in French and pointing out that he may have gotten better than 3rd in the elite race if he hadn't spent all that energy sandbagging. In fact, we were so loud and mean that his French speaking female companion moved away from us and our heckles after we began yelling at the dude in French. But I digress.

After the first turn I was in 10th, at the back of a squirrelly group that was bobbling and skipping out on turns. I could see Bailey up the road, leading the next group. Instead of attacking, I passed people as it naturally happened, mostly in turns where I found that I was able to turn on a smaller radius while also maintaining more speed than the average cat 3 or 4. Mountain biking all summer was already paying dividends in the first lap.

After a lap and a half, I was on the back of Bailey's group, which Bailey led. I didn't like the pace, they were riding too slow and braking way too much in the corners. I made quick work of that group, passing one rider at a time in the corners and settling in on the straights. When I got to Bailey, who was still leading the group, I attacked harder so that he'd have trouble getting on my wheel. Bailey is strong and he got on the wheel, but he apparently fell off in the next series of corners. Again, the mountain bike racing was paying.

I thought that I was in second. I could see a rider ahead and I was steadily gaining on him. I knew that I would catch him eventually, so maintained a sustainable pace and reeled him in over two laps.

As I was about the catch "first place" a rider came up behind me. He rode my wheel for a half a lap, but didn't try to pass. I picked it up a little and reeled "first" in and my chaser attacked out of a corner right after we caught "first."

As my chaser attacked, I was faced with a dilemma. I felt like I could jump on his wheel. In fact, he dangled 5 seconds in front of me for another half a lap. I kept thinking that if I maintained my own pace, I would catch him when he broke.

Meanwhile, the guy that I had just reeled in got on my wheel after I bobbled a corner in the singletrack in the woods. He assured me that he wasn't going to steal my podium. I'm not saying that I didn't believe him, but he seemed to have no trouble staying with me. So I kept digging.

Basically, nothing changed. I kept chugging along in the big ring. Sometimes I gapped the guy on my wheel, other times he was stuck like glue.

"Second" place dangled out in front of me, just out of reach, but just one mishap away. This is cyclocross and shit happens. Chains derail, pinch flats are common and we all know how janky early season bicycles are.

Nothing happened. I finished in what I thought was third, followed very closely by my chaser, who I was able to gap in the last lap to insure that he didn't "steal my podium."

But this Canuck. Everyone forgot about him. He stole my podium spot by annihilating our field. He then went on to take the hole shot in the elite race and trade blows with Myerson for a few laps.

I finished 4th overall. I was paid $40, which makes a $5 profit after subtracting registration and gas from my winnings.

I achieved all of my goals for the race. To restate: do as well as last year and beat Bailey. Actually, I finished in the exact spot that I did last year, only David Wilcox upgraded, so he wasn't in my race to get 4th in front of my 5th. Wilcox went on to finish 4th in the elite race today, behind Adam Myerson, Alec Donahue and the sandbagging Canuck. Congratulations David.

I rode the whole race in my big ring, which I have never done before. It seems faster. In fact, I am not looking forward to getting my little ring replaced, since it will give me an excuse to ride slower when the real pain comes.

Also, I forgot how much cyclocross hurts. This is a serious wakeup call. When I train, I need to put more suffering into it.

Job Interview Skills

As some of you know, I just recently got a great job (yesterday). Seriously, if you asked me to describe my ideal teaching position, it would be really close to the position I just accepted.

Yesterday, I had my final interview for the position. Given my long stretch of unemployment last year and my genuine excitement about the job, I was quite nervous going into it.

Adding to my anxiety, my potential boss called me the night before the interview to tell me that I had actually blown my first interview. My references (I taught one of the interviewer's son last year) and my enthusiasm carried me through to the second and final round. Basically, this guy wanted to hire me, but told me that I had better interview well the second time through or I was screwed.

So there I am sweating like a pig in my suit and tie in 90 degree heat waiting while they interview my competition. Her interview runs long; I wait half an hour past my appointment time. All I can envision is this woman regaling the principal with stories about all of the children she has saved from intellectual darkness. Every minute that ticked by ratcheted up my anxiety another notch. By the time the office door opens, I feel like the official has just called 15 seconds to go on the starting line of a Verge race.

Finally, I am ushered into the office. We sit. Pleasantries are exchanged. I am introduced to the committee, which includes the principal and my new alley (the new boss who called me to encourage me to interview better).

Somehow it immediately comes out that I am a competitive cyclist. Turns out the principal rides road bikes too (Livestrong bracelet to prove it). Seriously, we spent more than half of my interview talking about bike racing. Strategy, gear selection, sprinting vs. climbing, mental skills, training, nutrition and yes, we talked about cyclocross.

At one point I was asked if I ride the Pan Mass Challenge. I explained that while I support the PMC (financially with donations and in spirit), I am strictly a competitive cyclist. This elicited nods all around

Obviously, if you are reading this, you know that I can talk about bicycle racing all day and usually I even sound intelligent doing it. By the time my interview transitioned into actual interview content, I was thoroughly relaxed. Instead of begging for a job that I really needed and wanted, I felt like I was talking to old friends. I was relaxed, concise and on point. I did the opposite of blowing an interview.

Normally, I don't really discuss about my non cycling life on this blog. But this interview was one of those occasions when cycling stepped into another area of my life and improved it.

I don't even feel bad that I spent yesterday afternoon banging out a few intervals instead of taking care of paperwork down at HR like I was supposed to.

RMM Rides Critical Mass--Thank God No One Spotted Me

On a damp Friday a couple of weeks ago, I was on my home from a training ride. I had time to burn and wondered what I was going to do once I was home. As I was heading out of Harvard Square towards Central when I noticed a clot of cyclists taking up the whole traffic lane going in the opposite direction.

There were about 50 cyclists riding deliberately slow while taking up the whole outbound traffic lane. They waved and encouraged me to join in their "fun." I shook my head and kept riding in the opposite direction. Behind the row of cyclists, there was a backup of confused, angry and frustrated drivers craning their heads and honking their horns.

Always drawn to drama, I pulled a hasty U turn and chased onto the back of the slow moving peloton, easily maneuvering through the near stand still auto traffic. Seriously, the cyclists were going less than 10 mph.

I was on my B road bike, easily the fanciest bike on the ride. Also, I was the only cyclist wearing a team kit, though a few cyclists had opted for black non bib shorts.

Bike handling was sketchy. Large gaps were allowed to remain open. And since we were riding so slowly, trackstanding skills were needed to keep a bicycle moving in a straight line.

As expected, this racer on an over geared race bike kept drifting to the front of the pack, exactly where I didn't want to be. Let me explain: for those who don't know, Critical Mass is a regularly scheduled ride that attempts to promote cycling as an alternative to driving by taking over urban streets with "critical mass" of cyclists who effectively halt auto traffic. They ride deliberately slow in order to cause traffic snarls, presumably so that motorists will realize the error of their ways. Motorists often become very upset at the delays, which prompts heated exchanges, which sometimes become violent. While I was curious enough to briefly join the ride, I am no demonstrator and I certainly don't want to become embroiled in any confrontations (at least not in this venue).

The route took us through Harvard Square, under the underpass towards Broadway, then U turn, back into Harvard Square out JFK, by Harvard Stadium, into Allston and then down Comm Ave. I broke off when the ride took a right onto St. Paul St. toward Brookline.

I didn't make friends on the ride. I recognized a few members of the cycling community, but mostly my "fellow" riders were engrossed in demonstrating and my race bike and Lycra outfit marked me as a visitor. There was one crash on North Harvard St., which occurred when a rider with a glass bottle of juice tried to place it in an empty recycling bin while riding. Somehow, he missed the recycling bin while simultaneously falling into the shattering glass. Thankfully no one was hurt.

I did take note of the rage of the motorists who were caught behind the ride.

As a sometimes motorist who was raised to drive with some semblance of courtesy, when on a bike, I make an effort to balance my need for safety against my desire to not unnecessarily delay fellow road users. For instance, when I am stopped at an intersection waiting for a light to change, I don't block the right turn lane if drivers can legally make a right turn on red. And when crossing an intersection against the light, I do not do so in such a way that will hinder road users who have the right of way.

As a someone who strives to be considerate, Critical Mass rubs me the wrong way. Provoking motorists will do nothing to make streets more bike friendly. For example, when the I went straight on Commonwealth Ave. and the rest of the CM ride went right off of Comm onto St. Paul St., I was left to deal with the previously delayed drivers as they passed me on Commonwealth. The drivers were upset to say the least. Two of them vented their rage, one by accelerating to a high speed and coming inches away from hitting me and another by rolling down his window to chastise me for being "an asshole" amongst other well articulated and right minded arguments against my behavior. While I don't approve of the behavior of the driver who buzzed me, I had to agree with the second driver who called me an asshole.

Critical Mass is asshole behavior and I am ashamed that I took part in it, even once. In fact, as the ride started heading toward Allston and then Brookline, I became concerned that someone I know would see me participating in this ride. Students' parents, students, former supervisors, professional references, potential employers, former colleagues, friends and even family all live in these neighborhoods. My parents taught me that if you are doing something that you wouldn't want the whole world to know you are doing, you probably shouldn't be doing it.

Critical Mass is a grossly misguided attempt to draw attention to an issue that I wholeheartedly support. In drawing negative attention to cycling, CM is hurting cycling. Assholes.

The next Critical Mass ride starts at Copley Square on August 28th at 5:30. If you plan on participating, let me thank you in advance for turning even more drivers against cyclists.

While You Were Working: Igleheart Rebuild

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Yash has been indignant that I have not posted pics of this repainted bike sooner (I got the frame back 25 hours ago). Here they are. In an upcoming post, I will discuss my all-left side cable routing. Gripping.

Alley Cat Race--Saturday August 22nd--Katamari-Cat--Another Discipline of Race to Loose

If you are reading this, chances are you like to race bicycles. My friends Jason at Superb and the one and only Rob Gigantic are putting this event on.

Start is here, at 1pm on Saturday August 22nd. Organizers say that you'll be wanting a bag for the race, which indicates that you may be required to carry something at some point. You are not required to ride a fixed gear, though I'd suggest riding your "B" bike or even your "C" bike. Registration is a very reasonable $5, no USAC, UCI or other license required. Also no course marshals. And you won't know the "route" until the checkpoints are announced. Both speed and intelligence are required to do well.

Generally there are prizes for alleycats, and if I hear anything, I'll repost in order to tempt you into racing.

Other reports hint that there may be some track stand competitions along with tricks and skids. BBQ is rumored as well.

Product Review: Ergon GR2 Grip--RMM May Have Been Saved From Arthritis

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So I started mountain biking this summer. I have been racing regularly and riding offroad at least once a week, usually twice. While I have noticed an increase in bike handling skills, I have also noticed that my hands are really sore after a long ride. I asked other off road riders if they had the same problem and most of them indicated that it came with the territory; they told me to man up.

A stranger to manning up on the bike, I got to thinking about ways to fix the problem. Carpal Tunnel affects many cyclists, and I don't want to be one of them. After investigating the available handlbars and grips, I settled on the Ergon GR2. I got these because the grip is actually shaped like the palm of a hand. Ergon's website pointed out that both the grip angle and the bar end are independently adjustable, and if that wasn't enough to justify the expense, they come in two sizes and Ergon has a bunch of scientific looking diagrams.

Set up was simple. My first time out, I set the grips how I intuitively thought they should be and then adjusted them on the trail to dial them in. Overall, it took about an hour of riding and stopping to adjust before I was happy with them. I haven't touched them since that first ride.

My hands are no longer sore after a long ride. The grips do exactly what they are meant to do. They spread the stress of offroad cycling over a larger section of your hand than normal grip. Instead of your hand adapting to the grip, the grip is adapted to the hand. I won't try to sell you on bar ends, you either already have them or you think that they are for dorks.

Since I have a larger contact area with the bars, I have noticed differences in how I grip the bars in various situations. For instance, I no longer get the white knuckle death grip when situations get hairy. I am not saying that the grips are making me a better bike handler, but they are making me more comfortable, which inspires confidence.

My only functional complaint about this particular model is the bar end. If you are going to have a bar end, I would prefer it to be longer. Ergon offers a model with a longer bar end, I just didn't choose it, which is my mistake.

The grips are not light. If you are hyper concerned with grams, you can upgrade to the model with carbon fiber bar ends, but that increases the cost to about $100. But even these baubles are heavier than standard lock-ons or Oury's.

Speaking of which, even the magnesium grips I bought weren't cheap at around $50 retail. My justification for the expense was as follows: Wait, do I need a justification for spending money on a part that will improve my cycling experience? If you think that I do, perhaps you are reading the wrong blog.

The last question most people ask when they are considering a new part is: does it improve the overall appearance of the bike? Or: does it look fast? The answer to both of these questions is "No." These grips look goofy. Natasha laughed when she first saw them.



I have grown used to them, but I expect that my friends will laugh at them when they see the bike. I have never been one to succumb to peer pressure. Furthermore, I am almost 10 years older than most of my cycling friends with all of the amplified aches and pains associated with increased age.

I am a sucker for ergonomics. I sleep on a Tempurpedic mattress; I am current sitting on a high falutin' multi adjustable office chair with memory foam cushions. On my road bike, I use ITM K-Sword handle bars, because the handlebars are shaped exactly like my hands (I'd review them, but they are no longer in production). Basically, Ergon had me in mind when they developed their product line.

If you are experiencing hand pain after rides, you should consider checking these grips out. If you have no issues with pain, stay with what you are running because those grips are definitely lighter than Ergon grips. I had hand problems. Ergon's have helped alleviate them. I am very happy with my new grips. Based on my experience with this model, I will be trying some of Ergon's other grips when I get my next mountain bike.

Treatment of Former Dopers--Tyler Hamilton

Tyler Hamilton has started a coaching company. He also recently earned his second doping violation while holding the US National Road Championship.

The internet has been abuzz with people tittering and scoffing at Tyler's new venture. Why? Do people doubt his talent as a cyclist? People forget that dope only makes you marginally faster. You still need talent and to train hard to race at the Protour level, even with dope.

Americans are puritans. We want to see people punished for their transgressions. We want them to suffer and express genuine remorse because of that suffering. Tyler hasn't suffered enough. Never mind that he lost his pro cycling career (which meant the world to him I'm sure). Never mind that he recently was divorced. Tyler needs to suffer more and then redeem himself before the cycling community will embrace him again, if ever. The people demand blood and Tyler has not shed enough.

This is the absolute wrong approach to take with someone who has violated your mores. Recidivism is often a direct result of criminals' and addicts' difficulty in finding acceptance in society after their transgressions. Ex cons aren't readily offered employment upon release from prison...how do you think that they end up making ends meet? I am not saying that Tyler will become a convict. But if you are prepared to expel Hamilton from the cycling community, are you also ready to expel all former drug users too?

Why is David Millar acceptable, while Tyler is a pariah? Is it because Tyler seemed so innocent and pure? Perhaps we felt taken in and betrayed by Tyler's seeming innocence.

Tyler doped. But by all accounts he's a pretty good guy off the bike. I have never met Tyler, but someone who I trust recently wrote "[Tyler's] an approachable, humble, nice, genuine, and knowledgeable guy." These attributes, along with his past successes (remember, they may be tainted, but he still worked very hard to achieve them) and his knowledge of training techniques seems like they would make him a good coach. His rates should be reasonable too, considering how most of the community is intent on shunning him.

Since Tyler lives in Cambridge now, I am sure that I will run into him sooner or later. I know that I will be trying to make friends. You should too.

** Adam Myerson has been reading and commenting on this blog (I've been commenting on the Verge series). Since he has raced against Hamilton while Hamilton was doping, Adam has a legitimate right to be upset. I look forward to his comments on this matter.

Doping in Cycling: Do We Even Have the Right to Be Upset?

This year's Tour de France was billed by the ASO as a clean tour. If you are reading this blog, I don't have to detail and recap all of the wranglings prior to and during this Tour over doping and its prevention. Alas, a stage winner was caught using EPO in an out of competition test before the Tour (some test results take almost a month). My intent is not to comment on Astarloza's apparent doping violation (it is alleged until his "B" sample is tested), but rather to comment on the cycling community's reaction to doping.

Cycling has never been a "clean" sport. Anyone who reminisces about the "good old days" before doping hasn't been doing their history homework. Cheating has been rampant in the Tour de France since its inception. Originally, riders sabotaged each other (everything from tacks in the road to tinkering with each other's bikes) or found other conveyances to bring them to the finish faster than those who actually rode bicycles for the whole of the race. Drugs, either painkillers to dull the misery or amphetamine (cocaine also) to give the rider a super human charge have pervaded cycling culture since the very beginning. Furthermore for the majority of pro cycling's life span, usage of drug to enhance performance was not only acceptable, but encouraged.

Concern about drugs in cycling started in 1967 when Tom Simpson died on Mt. Ventoux from a combination of amphetamine, alcohol, dehydration and a stomach bug. Simpson's death marks the first time that the organizers of the Tour began paying lip service to prevention of doping. Their response? They dubbed the 1968 TdF as "The Tour of Health," while allowing the doping to continue unchecked.

Scandal has been heaped upon scandal. In the late 90's the Festina Affair revealed systematic doping, sanctioned from the top of the team down to the riders; everyone in between was complicit and the whole team was ejected from the tour. In 2006 the Floyd Landis had his win stripped only days after parading down the Champs d'Elysees and in 2007 Michael Rasmussen was thrown out of the Tour while wearing the yellow jersey.

So this year Astraloza won a stage of the Tour and then was discovered to have doped during his training. Are you really surprised? How can you be? I'd be more surprised to definitively learn that a winner of the Tour was not doping.

What about outrage, are you outraged that this behavior goes on? You shouldn't be. Protour cycling culture silently condones doping. Isn't this clear by now?

You haven't been in that culture so you don't know what you would do if you were put in the riders' situation. And you, as a fan of cycling, have no say in how those riders conduct themselves. What are you going to do, stop buying...I'll bet that you don't even know what product or service Astraloza's team is sponsored by.

Astraloza didn't dope to rip you off. He took a drug that improved his performance in a sport where many others are also taking similar drugs. Astraloza hurt his competitors and his sponsors; they are the ones who should be upset. Some competitors might speak up out of a sense of obligation to the public, but you'll hear venom from very few of them.

As other commentators have recently pointed out, cycling in Europe is much more working class than it is in the US. Many riders come from modest backgrounds and view pro cycling as a way out of terrible circumstances (think pro basketball here in the US).

How would you react if you were 18 years old, it was your first time away from home, your first time away from your parents and friends and you were given your first pro contract and sent to the team doctor who told you that you either have to dope or go back to your oppressive hometown and resume shoveling dung for a living. I suppose that you can tell me with absolute certainty that you'd stand on principle, that you'd turn down the contract, that you'd go home to shovel shit for the next 40 years, proud that you stood by your principles

Looking at doping as a moral transgression is simplistic and unrealistic. If cheating is part of the game, you cheat in order to play. Pro cycling is working hard to change this, but they are not there yet.

I don't condone doping in sport. But I also don't view it as black and white.

Race Report: Hodges Dam Village Dam Race 2009

Beforehand/Background

Perhaps I am delusional. Or perhaps I have am hyper averse to sandbagging. All summer I have maintained that I would be upgrading after this race. This season, I have consistently placed top 5 in Root 66 cat 2 races, podiuming most of the time. My plan was to rest up and slay this race. It is the Mtb Massachusetts State Champions and I like gold medals. But we all know how that goes, planning on slaying a specific race...

While this is my first season racing mountain bikes, I have raced this course the previous two years with my wife. It has become sort of a tradition with us. She is more involved and interested in mountain bikes while I am more into road. Obviously we both share a love of cyclocross. But this race has become "our" race, since it is the only mtb race that I have done before this season and I used to do it in order to race "with" Natasha. I usually do well on this course, so I was confident.

Pre race there was little drama. The wife and I (who I had to prod and cajole into racing [she had hoped to upgrade before this race, she didn't feel good, she isn't trained], in fact, I had to give her registration money in cash in order to finally convince her to prereg) arrived about two hours early. We dressed, ate, got numbers, warmed up and prerode the first third of the course without incident. I felt good. Normally, I show up to mountain bike races after hard training weeks, sore and already broken. Today, I felt supple and relaxed.

Earlier this week, I learned that Scott Rosenthal planned on racing the cat 2 race with me. I consider him my prime nemesis. In anything off road, I can't beat him.

When I was riding back from preriding the course (against the course direction), I passed Rosey going in the opposite direction. I felt that we were close to start, so being the gentleman that I am, I asked my opponent how long til start, indicating that we should be heading to staging. He assured my that he had time.

On the start line I was more nervous than normal. But no Rosey. I looking up from my fidgeting and adjusting, expecting to see him barreling the wrong direction down the starting straight. No dice. We started without him.

The Race

I didn't get the hole shot. In fact, I was about 8th in a tightly packed line heading through a long packed sand straight away. The lead rider tried to turn onto a trail that wasn't part of the course. He nearly took down Michael Wissell of Back Bay and caused major confusion.

After I settled in, it was clear that riders ahead of me had overextended themselves; I didn't want to overextend also, so I sat tight.

At about 3/4 of a kilo in, there is a slight kicker with loose gravel and sand. I should have used a match to gain a place or two, because the guy who's wheel I was on bobbled, which forced me to dismount, as I was riding his wheel way to close. Luckily, I dig hard when I run up and was able to pass him there even though he was riding and I was running.

The first single track section runs through a severely degraded forest. I suspect that sections have been recently harvested for lumber. The trail alternates between single track and twisty, gnarly dirt work roads. Most of the sections have a clear line that is smooth and flowy some with berms. The shoulders of the track are rideable, but bumpy and rooty. Passing in this section was possible but difficult since we were riding fast, the trail snakes around and undulates and when you built some speed to make a move, it was often squandered when you came off the smooth line to pass. I remained tight on the leaders' wheels through here, but was growing antsy, as I had gas in the tank and opponents were stacking up behind me.

About a quarter of the way through the lap, the trail becomes bumpier and somewhat slippery from a recent shower. There was a split in this section. 3 riders got away and I found myself behind the two riders who allowed the gap to form. I wasn't happy with the pace and was infuriated to see that I was getting gapped. No one was on my wheel. I panicked. I started darting into any offshoot that looked promising only to find the increased momentum causing me to bump around wildly. After 3 expensive attempts I settled in, planning to pass at the forced walk.

Yes, you read that right. There was a forced walk this year. There has been an over abundance of rain this season, and while most of the course was dryish, it seemed to become more saturated as the lap progressed. This first of four water sections was a flooded stream. Apparently it was deep. They had thrown a bunch of pallets in the water, called it a "floating bridge" and stationed a marshal there to make sure that you didn't try to ride it. Getting onto the pallets required you either to leap over 3-4 feet of deep water and risk slipping on the partially submerged wood or step up to your knee in the water and then up onto the sinking, sloshing pallets.

It paid to keep running after the floating bridge since remounting in the ensuing mudpit with its slick longitudinal roots didn't seem like the best way to clip in and build momentum.

After trying to pass for a mile or so, I was finally able to power around the guy ahead of me while on foot right after the bridge. Of course I did a wild cyclocross remount right in the middle of the trail to insure that he knew I was serious and so that he'd think twice about passing with my legs flailing about. I had to fight hard to keep my spot. He fought back and started playing chicken after we were back on the bikes. I yelled at him not to chop my wheel. He chastised me for passing him. I had the front and the advantage, but he took a few digs. I am no stranger to knocking handlebars, throwing elbows and shouldering. It didn't come to that. After he figured out that I was assertive, he backed off. When I finally dropped him, he was gone, long gone.

Now I was bearing down on Maison Chen whom I have been battling all season. I powered around Maison on a slight rise, apologizing for how close I cut it. I didn't endanger him, but it was a bit narrow. I had the momentum and there was a tiny space...

I dug deep to create a gap. Half of dropping someone is quickly creating that gap in order to break their spirit. If someone hovers in front of you, you'll be tempted to reel them in and pass. If they quickly ride away from you, you know you are bested and you sit up.

I got a 15-20 second gap inside of a kilo. The trail left the rocky section and fed onto a flowy, but slick and tacky section. I was still in the red zone intent on getting out of Maison's sight. I slid out and fell on a wet diagonal root at the top of a roller. This was not a tricky section. I literally riding far above my limit, with the vomit in my throat and seeing cross eyed. I just didn't see it. Of course it took a few seconds to untangle and remount. In my panicked mind, I had conceded the race to the 2 chasers. In reality, I got up quickly, recovered well and rode even faster.

There are a number of single track and also work road sections, all rather flat. These were good riding, but uneventful. I powered hard on the work roads, putting my roady power to good use.

But, but there were flooded stream/swamp crossings. There were 3 or 4 sections of trail/road that were fully immersed under water. They were all more or less rideable, but the water came up to my knees in one of them. One of the others had hidden rocks and ruts under the murky water that would knock you off balance unexpectedly. These crossings/wadings, didn't present a problem, but they were noteworthy. After reading Sweeney's rants about trail maintenance vs. abuse and about mtb race organizers losing venues because of trail abuse, the routing seemed ill advised.

There were a couple of sections of deep mud. One was about 20 meters long with roots. I ran this. The other was basically a deep divot on the trail filled with squishy mud. It had a high root on the other side. Visually, it looked like you could ride over it, but your whole front wheel sank in up to the quick release (26 inch wheels) and was unable to get over the root. I hit it every lap. First lap I made it through, second I endo'ed and bounced out of it while dabbing my foot, last lap I lost my front wheel and went over the bars. I can't be sure, but I think that it was getting deeper every lap.

The second lap was uneventful until the start/finish where Rosey was loitering in street clothes. He told me that I was 8 minutes down on first place. 8 minutes in two 30ish minute laps! Who the hell is this sandbagger? Well he is actually a friendly acquaintance of mine, Mike Wissell of Back Bay. I prerode the course with him. He was telling me that his upgrade requests have been denied by USAC since all of his results are at local races (read Root 66) instead of larger national events.

Mid Race Report Rant

I didn't realize that the new strict "national level event only" upgrade policy was in effect for cat 2 to 1 upgrades. Jesus Christ. To reiterate Sweeny's complaint (one amongst many): it doesn't matter who enters a local race and how much time you put into them, a Root 66 race is a regional race and results from those races can not be used for upgrade points. Let's use an example. If I beat the current cat 2 national champion in a clean Root 66 race (no mechanicals) and I had other Root 66 podium results, no matter, they will not allow me to upgrade.

Thanks USAC, thanks. Now I will have to explain to everyone why I am still racing cat 2 despite podiuming almost every race. Thanks. (Note: I am sending in an upgrade request later today. I expect that it will be denied)

Back to the Race

Seriously, my whole race happened in the first lap. After that, I kept the pace as high as possible and wished for death. I became sloppy in the second lap. I didn't crash, I just noticed that my lines weren't as precise and that I was hitting roots and rocks that I normally would have avoided. I passed a number of riders, most of them from other fields. Some may have been from my field, but I wasn't keeping count.

I finished strong. Sloppy, but strong.

Oh and I beat Rosey. He got to the Start late. He claims to have been putting a dent in the 6 minute deficit when he ripped his derailleur hanger off after either failing to change his chain or using a chain that was too short (his text left the details unclear). Getting to the start on time and maintaining a bike are part of racing, so I will call this my first win against Rosey offroad.

I rode as good a race as I am able. Every race I handle the bike better, becoming less of a roady and more comfortable off road. I kept my power high throughout, evenly dosing my effort so that I was able to finish strong.

I finished 4th. While would have preferred to win, but I rode a good race and I can't complain.

Reflection

So, I guess the question that we have to ask is this: Do I deserve an upgrade? I can't seem to win a cat 2 race. I never finish outside of the top 5, often 2nd or 3rd. I am consistent, but I consistently don't win.

Also, I am now 2nd in the Root 66 series. I am behind Maison Chen by very few points (under 10). Considering that he has never beat me, if I don't upgrade, I could very possibly win the whole series if I show up to the rest of the races and achieve decent results (better than Maison by a couple of places). Considering that the highlight of my 2009 racing season has been winning a prime by coming around Colin H. Murphy (after he dragged me around for 3/4 of a lap) at Wells back in early April, I could use the results to affirm that I am actually racing bikes as opposed to just pinning on numbers and getting dropped.

The Wife

Natasha, on the other, hand killed her race. She finished way ahead of her nearest competitor. She is the Massachusetts state champion. Last year one of her season goals was to win this race. She took second behind Rebecca Wellons (to be fair, RW was forced to race Sport since that is/was the highest cat you can race with a one day license).

Since I paid her registration fee, drove her to the race and because I have been considering buying one, Natasha gave me the Blackburn Airstick 2 Stage mini pump that she got for winning today. Seriously this is the actual pump that I have checked off on my next group buy order sheet. Even though I got 3rd in the state, one could argue that I won, since I got to make out with the female state champ and took her prize as a present.