Neil Bezdek

All my eggs in one basket

2011-02-25T21:07:00.000-08:00

Well, it's actually three baskets. A suitcase for my bike, one piece of rolling luggage, and a small backpack. That's it. Last year I schlepped around the country with a car and enough stuff to open my own thrift store, but 2011 is the year of going light. Travel is already stressful, and removing a few pieces of luggage and packing-options from the equation is a blissful step toward simplicity and mobility. Packing my things in Santa Barbara yesterday was a simple affair, as it will be this week while I'm at home in Colorado and as I head off to North Carolina for team camp at the beginning of March. Sure it helps that Santa Claus will bring us all new equipment and clothing at camp, but my packing would be the same either way.

The downside to simplicity is vulnerability. I'm not bothered so much by leaving a few things behind, but rather that I'm in a bind if I lose a shoe or damage some clothing along the way. In other words, the concern is risk, not sacrifice. Fortunately, anyone who considers packing light a serious risk should have his head examined, and the solutions to minor problems like these are as quick and easy as a trip to the department store and a swipe of the credit card.

As any serious bike racer (or neglected significant other) will confess, you must orient your life around the sport to be successful. What's true for an athlete's wardrobe and toiletries is the same for lifestyle: you have to pack light and stay flexible. I don't have a second job. I'm not pursuing a graduate degree. My civic involvement and regular volunteer commitments are woefully lacking. Though I'm sad to miss out on all of this, I have a goal and the knowledge that with each foregone opportunity in one arena, I'm increasing my odds of success in another. These are all sacrifices that I'm happy to make.

But just as the real drawback to packing light is risk, a one-dimensional lifestyle entails similar vulnerability. The big difference, however, is that I can't address a major career setback with a trip to the store. Fulfilling, demanding life-pursuits are harder to pick up than a new pair of shoes.

I developed a minor knee aggravation near the end of my stay in Santa Barbara, and I have been forced to scale back my training a bit. I guess that happens sometimes when you put in 30-hour training weeks. As absurd as it sounds, an injury like this could turn into a minor crisis for me. I don't want to continue living like a monk if I can't do it 100%. Fortunately, I have a great athletic trainer in town, and the “aggravation” is just that—tolerable and treatable. So far I've only lost a few hours of training, and I'm optimistic that the only lasting effect of this little episode is a renewed commitment to regular stretching and, more importantly, some thoughtful reflection.

E-stemming the muscles above my knee. Mary Shelley would approve.

Keeping perspective always makes it easier to deal with a setback like this, and I'll do that by bragging about how awesome my trip to Santa Barbara was. The weather is perfect, the scenery is world-class, and I have a lot of non-cycling friends in town to keep me sane. On a typical day, I would wake up without an alarm (rest is training, training is work!), eat a delicious breakfast, pack enough sugary bike food to make any Trick-or-Treater jealous, go on a 5-6 hour adventure in the mountains behind Santa Barbara, eat, nap, eat some more, and then relax for the evening with either friends in town, a book in my hands, or the ever-distracting internet.

I showed up at the beginning of a rest week, so the first few days of my business trip was really more of a beach vacation.

My preferred mode of transportation. Salvaged from a friend's backyard, this beauty was covered with vines when I found it. I removed only half, and now the bike has lovely green streamers that shake in the breeze as I pedal along the beach.

Even during rest weeks, I still have to ride a little (10-15 hrs) and keep up with my stretching and core-exercise routine. This was my studio:

Though beach vacation was pleasant, I was eager to hit it the ground running. And that's exactly what I did. In terms of energy-expenditure and calorie-burn, the typical training day for me was equivalent to running 1.5 marathons. That's a lot of pasta.

[And while my body's energy consumption has been absurdly high, the environmentalist and bike-advocate in me has to chime in here. The calories required to sustain my body's workload over the span of this entire trip was less than the energy in only 2 gallons of gasoline, an amount less than the average car-commuter uses in a single day].

Despite this new knee issue, I am riding really well and am way ahead of where I was last year. Not that I'll peak sooner, but that I'm stronger. The oxygen-depleting pace I could sustain for only 30min last year (lactate treshold) is now an effort I can hold for 90minutes (tempo). That's a big deal.

If anything, I've got a lot to feel good about, but I'm still aware that I've got a long road ahead of me and a lot of work to do if I'm going to have a successful year. And though I might have all my eggs in one basket, I'm not going to count my chickens until they hatch.

Gaviota beach. 2hrs up the coast from Santa Barbara.

East Camino Cielo, 4000ft above town. The road straddles a ridge, with the ocean one side and wine country on the other.

Highway 33, way above the town of Ojai and 3hrs from SB. I only got to ride this on the really long days. You can see the road snaking through the valley on the right side of the picture.

Lake Casitas. Making a loop around the reservoir is a standard 4-hr ride.

Reaction to the Floyd/Kimmage interview

2011-02-01T19:57:00.001-08:00

A recent interview of Floyd Landis by Paul Kimmage has created quite a stir since its release yesterday. If you have some time on your hands and would like to gain insight into the world of pro cycling, as well as Floyd Landis’ struggle to find his place in it and cope with his fall from grace, I highly recommending reading the full-text of the interview (available here). (For some context, Floyd Landis is the disgraced winner of the 2006 Tour de France, stripped of his title for doping and now publicly accusing former teammate Lance Armstrong of using performance enhancing drugs; Paul Kimmage is an Irish cycling journalist and vocal opponent of doping in the sport, also considered an adversary to Armstrong).

There is no shortage of writers eager to share their opinion on the Floyd/Lance feud and speculate on who’s telling the truth, what the response should be, and what this means for the future of the sport. Rather than weigh in on the debate, here are a couple of observations on less-discussed aspects of the story that might not strike at the heart of the issue but are still truthful and inspiring, regardless of your stance on the controversy.

Kimmage: So from your first contact with [Lance] at that training camp in Austin, you are pretty quickly a member of the inner circle. And seven months later, during a pre-Tour training camp with Lance at St. Moritz, you dope for the first time?

Landis: Yes.

Floyd Landis admits to doping but didn’t start until he had already been hired by the US Postal team. That means he made it onto a ProTour team, the highest level of the sport, as a clean athlete during an era when doping is widely acknowledged to have occurred far more frequently than now. This gives me hope for my sport, and for myself.

But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process what was going on. I could barely process the magnitude of winning the Tour in the first place, and that was on a positive note, and this was the opposite. This was something so unbelievable to me but on the other extreme. And it happened so quickly that I was just overwhelmed.

The days of immediately following Floyd’s monumental achievement and subsequent downfall were the darkest of his life. Even the greatest success is fleeting and meaningless if built on fraud and deception. We see this born out in every arena: Wall Street, athletics, politics, etc. It just isn’t worth it.

Yeah, but I never had any money. I never had any crazy security like that but I knew how good I was at racing on the road and the one thing I did have was a goal and a dream.

...Who cares about money? Who cares?...No, man, I didn’t have money before and I don’t have money now and I’m the same guy.

Floyd raced “professionally” for a few years on a ridiculously low salary, for only a few thousand dollars a year. People see highly-paid celebrities like him and often resent their success, assuming the pros have it easy and are in it for the money. They tell themselves “I could do that if only someone gave me the opportunity.” But a man like Floyd Landis had to pay his dues first, and he did it on pure guts. There was a time when Floyd was broke and struggling to get by just so he could have a shot at chasing a dream. It's tempting to assume the pros will be the first to quit if the glamour and sponsors leave. On the contrary, the true “pros” would be the last ones standing, eager to carry on merely because we love our sport.

2010 Recap: Part 2 of 2 - Italy, Reality TV, and oh right, more racing

2011-01-09T09:49:00.001-08:00

Where does the time go?! With a hectic but productive month at home in Denver behind me, I’ve made my out to sunny Santa Barbara for a...um...business trip. I’m here for a full 5 weeks and I’m loving it! Now that I’m settled under a palm tree and catching my breath, I have time to update you (or posterity) on the rest of 2010.

July

I ended June with a series of great performances, which made me hesitant to embark on a prescribed week-long break from the bike at the beginning of July. I made my back to Colorado, sat around indoors for a couple days, twiddled my thumbs, and finally cracked around day 5. So I headed to the mountains and put in a few long days at the office.

While curtailing my break means I didn’t lose much fitness and rode well for the rest of July, the consequence was cracking in August when the fatigue and summer heat finally caught up with me. Maybe for this year’s mid-season break I’ll lock up my bike and mail the key to myself via something slow like UPS ground or a fleet of doves.

I emerged from my pseudo-break to compete in the Iron Hill Twilight Criterium in Pennsylvania, which was my first opportunity to repeat a big race that I had competed in the season before. What a difference a year can make! In 2009 the race was just too much for me -- I didn’t know how to ride effectively and was struggling just to keep up, reacting to the events around me rather than strategizing as the drama unfolded. But this year I anticipated how the race would play out, put myself in the right position to save energy, make the break, and lapped the field with a group of 12. I finished 9th after working for a better result my teammate Mark (who also lapped but then crashed) and put myself onto the USA Crits Podium with Isaac.

July rolled on with the Capital Criterium in DC, staged on picturesque Pennsylvania Ave immediately between the Capitol Building and White House, and then a trip to Boise, ID, which was probably the most fun excursion of the season. My abbreviated break caught with me later that month at a stage race in Georgia, an optional event that entailed 5-days of racing in midday July heat in the south. Bad decision! I raced only so-so, crashed once, and was clearly starting to crack. I carried my fatigue into the prestigious Tour of Elk Grove at Chicago, where I could still keep up and finish with the big guns but wasn’t fresh enough to do anything noteworthy.

August

The jet-setting continued as I flew to Portland to be the best-man in my friend Mark’s wedding, drove back to Boise for a few days of training, and flew directly to Chicago (again) for the US Professional Criterium Championships. By this time I was starting to feel fresh again, which is good because the race was brutal. Unlike past years, 2010’s course was narrow, winding, and undulating, which weeded out more than half of the pro-only field. I made the selections, had the legs to race actively at the end (chasing a long-gone breakaway in vain, for exposure more than anything). I placed 28th, which isn’t much to speak of, but I consider it one my finest performances.

August rolled on with a visit to NYC and then the Chris Thater memorial in Binghampton, NY, where we performed well as a team working for our sprinter Isaac and he inched closer to taking the overall lead in the USA Crits Series.

September

September was great. We started with bang at the Tour de la France in South Carolina (no, not the Tour de France, but close enough right?) and US 100k in Georgia in the same weekend. My teammate Joey won both days! He followed that up by winning the Sprinter’s Jersey at the Univest Gran Prix, which was another rare opportunity for me to repeat a big race from 2009. Again, improvement was the theme: last year I got dropped, vowed revenge, and place 14th this year against a pretty stacked international field. It’s not a win, but I’ll take it for now. Next year I’m going for blood...

After the crit (day 2) at Univest. It was cold, wet, and slick

We carried our momentum into the Texas Tough, the last event in the USA Crits Series. It classic Texan style, the city of Dallas pulled out all the stops and the fans came out in droves. It was an impressive event, made all the more exciting for us as we achieved of 2 season long goals: Isaac winning the USA Crits overall and Team Mountain Khakis winning the team classification.

Isaac on the podium at the USA Crits final

At this point I packed up and drove myself from NC to NJ, where a planned 2 week visit turned into a 3 month adventure! It started with a drive up to New England with a few college friends for the final race of the season, the Mayors Cup in Boston. The air was crisp, the foliage was bursting with red and orange fall colors, and we ended the season in high spirits.

October

Long before I started racing, I always used to joke that I’d make it out to Europe when my sponsors decide to send me there. Lo and behold, I made it out to Italy in mid-October for the Red Hook Criterium Milano, thanks to the generosity event sponsor NYC Fixed Gear Forum. My former roommate in Brooklyn and race organizer extraordinaire has hosted this race in NYC (a nice Q&A by Cycling Reporter here) for a few years, and this fall he was invited by the Bicycle Film Festival’s crew in Milan to host the race overseas. Events sponsors flew out the “who’s who” from NYC, and as a former Red Hook winner and NYC bike messenger, I was one of the lucky ones to go. We got local treatment for a week in Milan, I got second in the race, and then I toured around Tuscany, Florence, Rome, and Cinque Terra. For the last two weeks in Italy, I was moving about with nothing but a small backpack, my bicycle and me. Pure bliss.

One of the event sponsors, Cinelli, put me in their kit and on one of their bikes. The founder Antonio Colombo also took Dave and me out to a fancy dinner in Milan!

Hanging out with the local Bicycle Film Festival crew in Milan. Photo by David Lucas McCandless

Our accommodations in Tuscany were lovely, to say the least! Olives for oil and grapes for wine are grown on the premises.

Dave posing in front of the machinery at the local olive oil plant in Tuscany. Tables are set up for an annual white truffle dinner, which we attended later that evening to savor to local delicacy and culture. We ate like kings the whole time!

On our way to Tuscany, my companions Dave and JT and I stopped in Brescia to hang out with Legor Cicli and check out this mad scientist's labratory. He's one of the only young frame builders in Italy carrying on the legacy of steel craftmanship, and my pals Dave and JT made arrangements to start importing his bikes to the US.
Photo by David August Trimble

Wearing jeans and on borrowed/ill-fitting bikes, Dave and I rode 11 miles through a rain storm to the top of a mountain pass to catch a glimpse of the Giro di Lombardia, one of the 5 monuments of cycling. It was amazing to be there, but I don't like to watch bike races where I'd rather be competing myself

My bike, my backpack, and me -- all I was carrying for 2 weeks! Fortunately the weather was nice. After two weeks of grinding up and down hills in rural Italy, I've resolved to return some day with a proper road bike.
Photo by David August Trimble

November

Just when I expected things to finally calm down for me, another adventure came my way on the first day of November. My plane from Italy was still taxiing on the runway in NYC, and I was finally thinking seriously about what to do with myself until Christmas, when I received a surprise email from my former bike messenger company. My pals at Breakaway Courier Systems informed me that they’d become the subject of a eality television show, filming for the next 6 weeks and due to air on the Travel Channel sometime this spring, and that I should stick around and get involved. Perfect! I worked a bike messenger for the next month with cameras rolling. It was fascinating to see the inner workings, logistics, and concept development of a major network TV show, and I really enjoyed resuming my old job as a bike courier. Unlike my first stint as a bike messenger, this fall I had the reassurance that demanding job was only short-term, along with substantially greater familiarity and comfort with the city.

My beautiful messenger bike, which I'm slightly surprised didn't get stolen. The wheels were a prize from the race in Italy. Look mom, no brakes!

In addition to the television show, Breakaway is working on a project to create a video catalog of every single street in Manhattan. They post these videos on their website one at a time, which helps increase the site's prominence in internet search results. Figuring that a fast-forwarded video would be more entertaining, they hired a bike racer (yours truly) for a few days to race around Manhattan with a camera. The full catalog is on their website (www.breakawaycourier.com).

5thAve-35thSt-to-CanalSt-byNeil from Breakaway Courier on Vimeo.

Something must have been wrong with the camera's color adjustment. Those traffic lights were all green, I swear!

I also re-signed with Team Mountain Khakis for 2011. I had a few other offers but am certain this is the best place for me next year, and I’m really optimistic about the upcoming season. I’ve got a lot to say here, and this topic deserves its own post.

November 2010 marked my 7th consecutive Thanksgiving away from home. While I’m sad to have such poor attendace at the family dinner table for this important holiday, I’ve been taken care of every year and have always missed the holiday for good reasons. I’ve enjoyed my multi-year odyssey and had a great time this year with my extended family in NJ.

December

I finished up as a messenger and enjoyed some of NYC’s famed Christmas festivities. Socially speaking, it’s a great time to be in the area, and I’m still trying to decided if NYC is the place I’ll someday call home. Even so, I packed up, completed the dreaded drive back to Colorado in 2 days, and was relieved to finally settle in at home for the Christmas holiday. I unpacked my toiletries from the travel case for the first time in almost an entire year, and finally breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

2010 Recap: Part 1 of 2

2011-01-02T11:00:00.001-08:00

2010 was quite a year. Here's what happened in the first half:

January

This was the low-point of 2010. What should have been a liberating adventure turned into a stressful debacle: I started in Denver, bought a car, crashed it 48hrs later on my way to southern California, and took a nasty spill on my bike that same weekend. Compounded by uncertainty and anxiety about my upcoming rookie season, this series of events took a serious psychological toll. Further, I've since concluded that I didn't even need a car in the first place, so the entire episode was completely unnecessary. (I look forward to being rid of that infernal contraption in 2011. I'd rather not own a car, and that topic deserves it's own blog post.)

I also devoted much of my post-season downtime to perfecting the art of eBay. Cyclist don't make too much money but get all sorts of awesome schwag from sponsors, which becomes fair game for an after-market income boost as soon the season is over.

February

I bounced back in February with a restored sense of optimism and confidence. I travelled back to Colorado from Santa Barbara, packed up, and made my way out to Winston-Salem, NC, team headquarters and my personal homebase for most of the cycling season. My roommate and teammate Isaac turned out to be a great ally and accomplished grilled pizza chef. Isaac went on to have a killer 2010 season and scored a contract with Kenda Pro Cycling for 2011. Next year he'll be one of my main rivals.

If cycling doesn't pan out, opening a pizzeria is my Plan B

March

Team training camp was the highlight of March. "Training" isn't very accurate. The week is really a combination of orientation (since we all get to know each other) and Christmas morning (because we get set up on all of our fancy new equipment). After team camp I did a few local races with the team veteran and captain, Adam. I raced like a total rookie, made silly mistakes, and am pleased to have those learning experiences behind me.

A few colleagues and I also travelled to the exercise physiology lab at Eastern Carolina University to undergo a series of stress tests, where a group of scientists quantified of our freakish abilities, chuckling as they compared our results to those of their typical clientele of sedentary, hungover college students. It was a mutually beneficial exercise; the staff gets to conduct tests on a series highly-trained athletes, and we learn a lot of useful information about ourselves that informs our training and general health. For example, I learned the precise conditions in which my body produces lactate acid and also when it processes the most of oxygen. I also found out that I have healthy bone-density (many cyclists don't), and that the ideal body composition for endurance athletes is 4.5% body fat, which in my case means I'm aiming for 152lbs. Right now I'm a hefty 156. Ouch.

April

April marked the beginning of the primary racing season and what you might call my "accelerated learning curve" (i.e. getting my head kicked in by superior competition). I got off to a bumpy start Battenkill, where a flat tire and slow wheels change ended my day at mile 45 of 128. Upstate NY is a long way to travel end up doing only 1/3 of a race, and I was understandably discouraged. Two weeks later, the Athens Twilight Criterium proved to be a similarly challenging and selective race, but I put in a good performance for the team and was one of only a few finishers in the rain. Both races are summarized in old posts.

May

My view from a training ride at home in May

May was a turning point in the season. After an intense 7 days of racing at Speedweek, I took advantage of 3 week break in the schedule and flew to Colorado, where I had ample time to rest up and resume training at altitude. I returned to racing later in the month in tip-top shape.

May was also when team management experienced a major snafu -- one of our main sponsors didn't honor its financial commitment to the team and left us with a major budget shortfall. (To be clear, it was not Mountain Khakis; they're great and will remain our title sponsor for 2011). Facing the decision between suspending either salaries or racing, we decided to press-on without pay. I consider this one of the finest moments of the year. You might expect the professionals to be the first ones to quit when the money and glamour disappears. On the contrary, we should be the most committed and the last ones standing when challenges arise.

With the team's future in question, the pressure I felt to perform evaporated. Rather than showing up to races because it was my job, I showed up simply because I wanted to be there.

The rest of May was a blast. We raced like champs at the Wilmington Gran Prix, a National Race Calendar (NRC) event in Delaware. I suffered my first race-crash of the season, along with a couple teammates, late in the race. It was at a critical moment when we had brilliant position with 4 riders in the front 10 and were looking to have a strong finish. Rain had just begun to fall and the 5 of us near the front slid out all at once, spooking the riders behind us and creating a gap for first 2 riders to pedal on to victory. No one was hurt, but the crash cost of us a significant amount of prize money. Despite the poor outcome, we knew that we raced well and the performance set the stage for future success.

The trip to Delaware was my first venture to the northern half of the east coast in 2010. I was looking forward to visiting New York City, which I hadn't returned to since moving out 6 months earlier. Pulling me in the other direction was Adam, who was eager to delay to the trip north by a day to do a local race in Pennsylvania. Despite my eagerness to get back to NYC, I decided to put work (cycling) before recreation (visiting New York). My commitment paid off and I won the race! Adam and I made the break (a small lead group that rides ahead of the main field) and alternated attacks until I was clear of the group. I lapped the main field, which I had never done before, and crossed the line solo with my hands up. Adam won the bunch sprint for second.

I carried my momentum into the following week with 11th place at the International Basecamp International Criterium and was psyched to finish just one place out of top 10 in a prestigious NRC race. Isaac took 4th, inches away from the podium, and continued our team's post-financial-debacle rally.

I netted my best result of the season the following weekend, at the Tour of Somerville. This is the oldest bike race the country, and an especially meaningful to me because of its proximity to NYC and familiar crowd. And not only was I born in Somerville, NJ, my life begain in the hospital that sits next to the first turn on the course, which racers pass dozens of times throughout the 50-mile race.

The best thing about Somerville was my utterly disastrous preparation. I had discovered a crack in my race bike's frame and, due to my independent travel schedule, I met up with the team mechanic only minutes before the race to get set up on one of our spare bikes. While other racers were warming up and preparing for the race, we were in the parking lot scrambling to make adjustments on the new bike. We suffered a minor set back when one of the parts that had to be switched, the fork, wouldn't slide out of my frame. Instead of reaching for a rubber mallot to gently pound out the stubborn part, we panicked and grabbed the first blunt object available, a plastic container of powdered drink mix. Looking over our shoulders to ensure no fans or -- even worse, photographers -- were in the vicinity, we started pounding away with the plastic canister. Welcome to professional cycling.

The cracked frame that forced a hasty pre-race bike swap

Not surprisingly, the canister exploded, showering my bike and me with sugary powdered drink mix. Also keep in mind that it was 95 degrees out and we were working feverishly in the midday sun. My hands and handlebars were a sticky mess, something I couldn't properly address until after the race. At this point, with the start only minutes away, I admitted defeat and wheeled my bike over to the Mavic neutral support mechanic station, where the amused staff calmly finished the job with proper tools and a professional demeanor. Still panicked, I hopped onto my sticky, maladjusted bike and raced to the start line, where all 150 of my competitors were lined up for the commencement of the race. As the National Anthem was underway and I caught my breath, Isaac pointed out that my rear tire had a significant slit and was unsafe to use for the race. I hurried back to the Mavic support pit, and they replaced my wheel while also telling race organizers via radio to delay the start of the race for a few seconds until I arrived at the start with new wheel.

50-miles later my sticky bicycle and I crossed the finish line in 4th place, the best result of my season.

Spectators often hand us beers after we race. After a stressful morning in Somerville, I needed it!

June

May's momentum carried me through June. It started with one of the funnest trips of the season to the Tulsa Tough. With most of the team racing that weekend in Philadelphia, two teammates and I hijacked the team van and made the drive out to Oklahoma. Highlights include missing an exit and driving a few hours out of the way (twice), and stopping for go-kart racing and live country music in Nashville on the trip home. Tulsa itself was cool too; the racing was awesome, my parents came out to visit, and we made some money. This artsy YouTube video captures the spirit of the event:

Following Tulsa we embarked on a three week journey to race in Washington DC, Wisconsin, and Ohio. These races were a priority for the team and I was really disappointed to miss one of my favorite races, the Harlem Skyscraper Criterium in NYC on Father's Day, due to a conflict with a USA Crits race in Wisconsin the evening before. I had great legs had been riding well for the entire trip, which made it all the more agonizing to miss Harlem.

Me, Matt, and Isaac lined up in Arlington, VA

Isaac and Adam on the podium after racing in Wisconsin, the day before my rushed departure to Harlem

Encouraged by my good form, I made a last-minute decision to rectify the situation: I would that race that evening (Saturday) with the team in Wisconsin, pack my bike in a teammate's bike-concealing boogie board bag, sleep a couple hours, fly to NYC on my own at 6am on Sunday, take the public bus straight to the race course in Harlem, assemble my bike, do the race, fly back to Wisconsin on Monday, and resume racing and travelling with the team on Tuesday. Given the hefty prize list, I was confident that I could win enough money to pay for the trip and then some.

This is the, um, boogie board I took with me to Harlem

Everything went accordingly to plan and things were looking good for me until the last mile of the race, when I was thrown to the pavement in a road-wide pile-up. So much for my grand trip to Harlem! I travelled there seeking glory and prize money; I left with bruised wrists, gashed shins, and a scraped bicycle. The trip was clearly a gamble that didn't pay off this time, but I would do it again. Going into it, I knew this was a likely outcome and was ok with it. On average, I would come out ahead on a trip like this, so I'll stick by my decision.

Wrists swollen, shins bleeding, ego bruised, morale intact

June concluded with a few more races in Ohio and a trip back to Colorado with my dad, who made the drive out to the Midwest to watch a few events. At this point I had been going non-stop since mid-May, and was due for a rest before resuming another hectic block of racing in July. So far, so good.

I'm back!

2010-12-29T23:47:00.000-08:00

Ok ok...so I got a little bit behind on the blog, and it was just as things were getting good. While I'd like to pretend I was distracted by a series of Hanes Underwear endorsements and GQ photo shoots, the truth isn't as glamorous. My computer's hard-drive crashed in May, effectively severing my communications umbilical cord and putting me a few weeks behind. Couple this temporary setback with a debilitating type-A mentality and you have a recipe for blog abandonment; if perfectionism leads you to adopt an unrealistic standard of blog timeliness, thoroughness and originality, it's easier just to ignore the damn thing. Lesson learned. Still, a number of people who I consider true friends have continued to remind me about my abandoned project. Hence, in the wake of New Year's, I've resolved to resume posting on a regular basis.

So what's happened since the onset of my journalistic delinquency? I've been going in circles, mostly. Sometimes on a bicycle, but just as often in a team vehicle or on an airplane. One thing I've had to adjust this year is constant travel. Though one of my career goals is to have a permanent address (quite ambitious, no?), I've had to accept the fact that Bike Gypsy is an accurate job title for now. This is what 2010 looked like:
Overall, 2010 exceeded my expectations, both personally and professionally. I stayed healthy, raced well, re-signed with Team Mountain Khakis for 2011, and kept myself busy this fall with a number of post-season cycling gigs. Highlights include team victories in the USA Crits Series, a trip to Europe, and even reality TV. Full of highs and lows, the story has a happy ending and sets the stage for a sequel.

My next few posts will be a month-to-month summary of the year, partly to make amends for falling behind and to gain a sense of completion before resuming with current events. I understand that real-time delivery would have been more relevant and compelling, and I apologize to those who have a limited attention span and no interest in retrospective blogging. However, the year deserves a recap, and I'm satisfied writing for myself and posterity, if nobody else. Stay tuned.

Speedweek (i.e. Crit Camp)

2010-05-12T11:53:00.000-07:00

Speedweek has come and gone, but I'm still processing. After finishing 7 criteriums, steering around at least a couple dozen crashes, and barreling through over 2000 corners, I have a lot to digest. Socrates' famous saying sums it up best: "I know only that I know nothing." If the key to wisdom is recognizing the vast inadequacy of our knowledge, as Socrates claims, then my experience at Speedweek was a crucial step toward cycling enlightenment.

On the one hand, the week was mildly successful for me. I managed to stay healthy and finished each race unscathed, and Team Mountain Khakis fueled by Jittery Joe's earned 2nd place in the team classification against some of the best crit squads in the country. I placed 17th out of over 200 in the general classification (each race had 100-150 starters), despite spending a lot of painful but instructive time at the front of the race--attacking, chasing down breaks, attracting crowd/announcer attention for our sponsors, and even winning a couple of cash primes (prime is french for "prize," awarded to the first rider to cross the line at various times throughout the race). And I felt stronger as the week went on, which means my body responds well to stress and indicates potential for further growth.

On the other hand, we didn't show up to get 2nd in the team classification, and we certainly weren't happy to walk away without a "W" in any of the races. To be satisfied and say the week was a smashing success wouldn't be fair. I also wasn't racing for my own results, and despite being aggressive and team-minded all week, I felt a bit like a loose canon.

Racing at this level is whole new ballgame. The degree of precision in team tactics and positioning is overwhelming, and I'm afraid my neophyte skills were (for now) a limiting factor for the team. For example, I've gone from being a field sprinter to breakaway rider, not because I don't have the speed to sprint, but because I simply don't (yet) have the skills to negotiate the front of the race in the final few laps without wasting energy or putting myself and others at risk. Still, I'm a prime candidate for instruction: I have the legs to keep up and a fierce determination to pay attention and learn as much as I can. Dubbed "Crit Camp" by our team captain and de facto camp counselor Adam Myerson, Speedweek turned into a Socratic reminder of the complexity of bike racing: the better you get, the less you know.

Bike racing is hard.

The series began with the Athens Terrapin Twilight Criterium. Widely considered the best criterium in the country, the race report deserves its own blog post. In my last post I mentioned how Athens Twilight had been described to me as racing through a "dark, screaming, beer-smelling tunnel." That description is mostly accurate, except the words "wet" and "cold" and "no visibility" and "crash fest" were omitted from the original phrasing.

Bike racing is scary.

As expected, the race started out brutally fast, and by the end of lap 1 of 80, riders were stretched out halfway around the dark course. On tight, winding streets like this, it's crucial to stay as close to the front as possible. Not only is the front of pack where the tactical racing happens, but it is significantly safer and easier than riding at the back. Here's why: riders at the front have the space to take the fastest line through the corners and can conserve momentum, while riders bunched up behind them are forced to slow down, elbow for position, and then sprint back up to full speed through every single corner. With 4 corners per lap, and 80 laps in the race, being stuck at the back of the Athens Twilight is a 320-step path to exhaustion.

I was in the front third of pack as we completed lap one, already feeling pressure from the fast pace but pleased not to be one of the suckers fighting at the back. Unfortunately, I hit a pothole on lap 2 and flatted, which sent me to the Mavic support pit for a new wheel. Taking a free lap may sound like a helpful rest, but it really just disrupts a racer's rhythm and requires a massive acceleration from 0 to 30mph to rejoin the field. More significantly, it killed my position and I soon found myself on the very back of the race. After spending the next 8 laps sprinting out of corners and accelerating into the wind around riders who were already getting dropped, I was gassed but had barely gained any position. Then I flatted again.

The Mavic Support pit. Not a good place to find yourself.

That was the low-point of the week, and the race had barely begun. Once again I found myself struggling just to keep up with the back of the race--sliding through turns, dodging crashes, and wiping fog out of my glasses on the backstretch of the every lap. The spray from riders' wheels makes racing in the rain similar to taking a cold, 360-degree, gritty shower. Only you're hyperventilating, competitors are screaming at you, and you could get seriously injured at any moment. For most of the race, I couldn't really see the ground or corners and I just had to approximate my position based on the riders around me and gleaming metal barricades on the sides of the road. This was only my second big race since my similarly jarring and disappointing start at Battenkill, and for a few laps I was sincerely wondering why I had ever signed up for this or if I even have what it takes to keep up.

But as usual, my battered ego refused to cave in and I kept pedaling. Eventually I got on top of my breathing, learned to relax through the corners, and made my way to the front of the race. By this time a 6-man, "dream team" breakaway had already gained nearly a minute on the field, and Team Mountain Khakis had missed the move. It was our duty to chase, and all 8 of our riders team assembled on the front of the peloton to drive up the pace. We rotated at the front for 40 leg-searing laps, and, though we whittled the gap down to 30 seconds, it became clear that ours was a futile effort. Still, we pressed on, and Adam yelled, "We're going down swinging!" By the end of the race, the field was cut down to one fifth of it's original size and only about 30 of us finished with the main group. I was psyched to be one of the few remaining and my doubts about bike racing had disappeared.

Team Mountain Khakis fueled by Jittery Joe's in full pursuit. We didn't reel in the break, but fans came up to us for the rest of the week to congratulate us on our 40-lap chase. I'm third wheel, hiding behind foggy glasses.

Bad luck struck again as I flatted with 9 laps to go and stopped for my third wheel change. By this point it was too late in the race for me to get back to the front, and I had to accept my position near the back of what remained of the field. On the last lap, I dodged two crashes in front of me and rolled across the line in 22nd. Our race-favorites Mark Hekman and Adam Myerson were both caught up in the crashes, and though we were the only team with a respectable 7 finishers, the best we could salvage was Adam's 13th after literally bunny-hopping a downed rider.

In terms of results, the rest of the week was a similar uphill battle. But my confidence grew with each race. After finishing Athens and being part of the chase, I know that I have the mental and physical stamina to compete. Being a factor in the all of the other races during Speedweek is further proof. But becoming a successful bike racer, especially in criteriums, is like a putting together a big puzzle. I'm finding a piece or two in each race, whether it's getting yelled at for being in the wrong place during a lead-out or successfully timing an attack so I can ride off the front by myself after expending as little energy as possible. And like a puzzle, sometimes the picture doesn't become clear until late in the game, when it all snaps together at once. It's going to happen one of these days.

For some cool video coverage of all the races, click here.

Racing in the dark at Spartanburg. I had great legs for the finish but couldn't hold position to lead out my teammates when things got dicey. That's what Crit Camp is for.

On my way to winning two primes at the Dilworth Criterium. Probably my best race of the week.

Our trusty Jack Kane frames and speedy Reynolds wheels kept us rolling all week.

Battenkill out, Speedweek in

2010-04-23T06:39:00.000-07:00

With Battenkill behind me, I've made my down to Athens, GA to rest up for the next challenge. And for good reason: From last Friday to this Wednesday, my travels have taken me through 9 states and demanded more than 5 hours of travel on as many days. I also suffered a crash, but fortunately to it was to my computer's hard-drive and not my bicycle. (Sorry, but that means no pictures this time).

Now I'm set to begin Speedweek, a series of 7 high-speed criteriums over the next 9 days. A criterium is a short, 1-2 hr race on fast, closed course, usually held in the center of a town or city (as I've said before, criteriums resemble race car driving more than running a marathon). The series kicks off with the Athens Twilight Criterium, which is one of the most prestigious races in the country. Apparently it's also one of the craziest. The race takes place at 10pm on a Saturday night, right in the heart of downtown Athens surrounded the college town's thriving nightlife district. I've never done the race, but it's been described to me as "racing full speed through a dark, winding, screaming, beer-smelling tunnel."

The schedule for the entire week is available here: www.usacrits.com/speedweek

So what happened at Battenkill, you wonder? I raced absurdly hard for the first part of the event, covered the early moves to do my job for the team, and then flatted out after 45 miles. Bummer. That's a lot of travel and carbo-loading for less than 2 hours of racing.

Here's how most long road races work: the pace starts out absurdly high (for illustration purposes, let's say 30mph) as individuals try to accelerate ahead of the main group and others chase him down or accelerate away from the main field. This means the beginning is often the hardest part of a race, and it's tempting to get discouraged when your legs are searing only 5 miles into a 125 mile race. But after a few miles, the right combination of riders gets up the road so that each of the strongest teams has a someone in the move and has no incentive to chase. At this point, the main field sits up and rolls along at a leisurely 20mph for the majority of the race as the breakaway speeds ahead at a demanding but reasonable 25mph. Late in the race, the strongest guys in the main field who do not have teammates in the breakaway get nervous that a few riders are so far ahead, so they turn on the gas and the pace returns to a very difficult 30mph. At this point, only the strongest riders from the main field can keep up and the breakaway riders are joined by whatever remains of the main field.

We all expected Battenkill to follow this standard format, so our strategy was to save our two strongest riders (Mark Hekman and Adam Myerson) for the final chase while the other 4 of us would try to get into the early breakaway or, if we missed the breakaway, assist Adam and Mark by sheltering them from the wind and fetching food and water bottles from the team car following behind.

But Battenkill was different for two reasons: 1) to everyone's surprise, last year's breakaway was not caught by the main field before the finish, and 2) race radios, worn by each rider and used to communicate crucial race information, are banned this year. Radios make it easier to keep track of who's in a breakaway and how far ahead they are of the main field. For these two reasons, everyone was very nervous about letting a breakaway get ahead without being a part of it. The main field wouldn't allow an early breakaway just to roll away because teams were far more concerned about being left out.

So unlike Battenkill 2009, where the break got away a few miles into the race and everyone else just rolled along for the next hundred, the 2010 race had us ripping each other's legs off from the start with no letting up. At the mid-point, half of the riders had pulled out of the race. About 1/4 finished with the main group. Afterward, riders were complaining about how the pace was so high that they were forced to go 50 miles or more without eating any food (normally racers try to ingest something about every 10 miles). Add 40 degrees and rain to the mix and it made for a tough day at the office. My teammate Adam Myerson's account is here.

Despite the fast start, I was comfortable riding at the front on the flat sections and felt capable of attacking/chasing as my role demanded. The climbs were tougher, but I made a point of pacing myself in the hills and starting each with good position. And then I felt my rear wheel go soft right as we approached a rolling dirt section. I got a quick wheel change from our team car, accelerated up to speed, and drafted 6-inches behind the car at 40mph (yes this is allowed and a lot of fun) in order to rejoin the back of the caravan of cars that follows the bike race. At this point I knew I could no longer rely on the team car and would have to navigate through the caravan of cars on my own to rejoin the other cyclists. This was my first time negotiating the race caravan, and while weaving through traffic certainly isn't foreign to me, I let all of the aggressive driving and honking get into my head. I made the rookie mistake of panicking and not taking my time. Instead of drafting off of one vehicle and catching my breath before accelerating up to the next, I spent too much time out in the wind and couldn't keep pace once the road started to pitch up hill. The caravan passed me by and my day was over.

Flatting early on was disappointing, and I'm not going to pretend that my mechanical mishap stymied what would otherwise have been an impressive performance or result. The race was really hard and didn't suit my strengths. And while I did feel like I was in over my head, I wasn't out of my league either. Even my teammates were complimentary and noted that I did my job at the beginning of the race and that I shouldn't be to dissatisfied with my performance. But on the other hand, I'm here to win bike races. Battenkill was an ok start, and as long as I stay hungry and focused, the only way to go is up.

Ready, set...

2010-04-17T19:45:00.000-07:00

I'm writing from my hotel room in rural New York state. We just had a team meeting to discuss tactics for tomorrow's race, and now it's time to rest up for the first big event of the season (it might be worth mentioning that Floyd Landis is here to race and staying in the hotel as well). Until now I've been in charge of my own schedule and competing in mostly local and regional races in the southeast, but from here on out I'll be following my team's agenda and racing wherever they send me.

Tomorrow's Tour of the Battenkill Professional Invitational road race is an internationally sanctioned, 124-mile sufferfest that has been dubbed "America's Queen of the Classics." The race features 9600 feet of climbing and 30 miles on dirt roads. Over 150 starters from at least a dozen countries, plus a caravan of over 50 cars (officials, mechanics, team cars [including ours, above, to which I will drop back to repeatedly to grab food and bottles for my teammates], press vehicles, police cars, EMS, etc.) will roll out from Cambridge, NY at 11 am. About a third of those riders will make it to the finish, approximately 5 hours later. The guy (i.e. superhuman freak) who crosses the line first takes home $5000, so it won't be easy.

I did a pre-race interview for CyclingReporter.com a few weeks ago, which is available here. Overall, I feel good about tomorrow's race. We've got a solid team and we're going for the win. I've been riding better and better each week, and my weight is right where it should be (151 lbs). Even my tanlines are in nearly full bloom.

This is what I looked like last year after taking 6th in the shorter, 82-mile Category 2 amateur race:

(photo courtesy Chris Thormann)

The local forecast calls for 45 degrees and rain. Should be interesting.

Ok, time to get back to the to-do list: foam roller, stretch, hydrate, review course map (again), sleep.

Camp rolls on

2010-03-23T08:49:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of Carolyn Albright & Stephanie Shotz Bender

The last week has been a bit of a blur, and blog updates fell by the wayside. Cycling full-time has left me with less spare time and energy than I had anticipated.

Overall, camp was a steady rhythm of morning rides, afternoon sessions with sponsors, dinner, and then either more meetings or time to chill out. Here we are spending time in Charlotte with our title sponsor Mountain Khakis, which we combined with a visit to the offices of another sponsor, Edifice Construction:

Our hectic schedule limited most of our rides to 3 or 4 hours, which is pretty moderate in terms of training but still provided ample time for conversation. The standard group ride rolls along as a double paceline, where riders line up in twos and take turns pulling (breaking the wind for riders behind, see photo above) at the front of the group. Each pair spends a few minutes pedaling hard on front, simultaneously peels off either side, coasts to the back, and resumes conversation where they're sheltered from the wind and pedaling is far easier. This rotation is conducive to side-by-side chatting, and conveniently gave us time to get to know each other while still training. Further, having an odd number of riders or stopping at intersections inevitably alters the pairings, and each day I'd spend an hour or two chatting with a few different people.

The busiest stretch was mid-camp, as we prepared to leave Winston-Salem and make the journey down to Athens, GA. We started Saturday with a 6-hour group ride, open to cyclists in the area who wanted to join. We traveled over the popular "Triple Hump" route north of town, which features 3 lengthy climbs that inevitably turned into an intra-team race to the top. By no means am I a climbing specialist, but I made it up the climbs within reasonable distance of our top riders and am pleased that my fitness seems to be on par with my teammates. The team cars accompanying us also took photos throughout the day, despite intermittent rain and wind. There's nothing like a few rainstorms to add some challenge to a 6-hour, fast-paced bike ride over hilly terrain with a group of professionals. Yeehaw!

Photo courtesy of Carolyn Albright & Stephanie Shotz Bender

Compared to last year, I'm far stronger at the end of long rides, which I attribute to more training and better on-the-bike nutrition. I felt relatively fresh and springy at the end of Saturday's team ride, which which softened the blow of our immediate, rushed departure from Winston-Salem and a 5-hour drive to Athens, GA. We rose early the following morning for another public group ride and a meet 'n greet session with our other title sponsor, Jittery Joe's coffee roasting. Such is the life of a bike racer: ride-drive-sleep-ride.

We spent a lot of time in Athens touring the Jittery Joe's headquarters and coffee roasting plant, learning about how the beans are roasted, which would make an excellent program for The Learning Channel. We also made daily visits to each of the Jittery Joe's coffee shops.

Needless to say, Athens was a delicious, blissful caffeine-binge, but the lingering withdrawal is one of my excuses for such a belated blog post. I've discovered that, due to my poor photography skills and cheap camera, all of my pictures from last week are incredibly blurry. I'm tempted to blame it on the caffeine or to pretend the blurriness is a deliberate simulation of the jitters I experienced the whole time.

In Athens, a few of us stayed at the home of Barbara Dowd, a cycling super-fan and longtime co-manager of the former Jittery Joe's pro cycling team. Fortunately for us, not only is Barbara an enormous help with team management, but she's also an amazing host. Each morning we were greeted with fresh-baked muffins and bread, and the team shared dinner at her home in the evenings. It seems that all cyclists of note in this part of the country have passed through Barbara's home, so I feel privileged to be part of the legacy.

As the week progressed, our pace slowed and we got to focus on the other aspect of our training: recovery. This is what a cycling team looks like off-the-bike. Notice the Mountain Khakis, laptops (to support the nomadic lifestyle), elevated legs, and general lethargy:

Camp concluded as riders dispersed and half of the team loaded their bikes into the team trailer, which was en route to California for the first big stage races of the year: San Dimas and Redlands.

Unfortunately, one of my teammates, Toby, had to withdraw from the trip due to knee tendonitis. In the hectic hour prior to the team truck's departure, we discussed the possibility of putting me on the California roster in Toby's place. However, it was decided that making me a late addition to the roster didn't make sense for number of reasons: in general I'm more of a one-day crit racer and not a stage racer, my training schedule has me preparing for big races in late April instead of early March, and the last-minute switch would force me to spend 30 leg-stiffening hours driving with the director and mechanic in the team truck instead of flying with the rest of the guys. But, most importantly, my relative inexperience means I'll benefit more from racing locally with our team captain and criterium specialist, Adam Myerson, who's opted to spend a few weeks in the South as an extension of our training camp.

Photo courtesy of Carolyn Albright & Stephanie Shotz Bender

Training camp begins

2010-03-09T16:58:00.000-08:00

Every cycling team starts its season with a spring training camp, and Team Mountain Khakis fueled by Jittery Joe's gets underway this week. "Orientation" might be a more appropriate term, as we'll spend the next 8 days becoming acquainted with our teammates, our sponsors, and our equipment. Perhaps "camp" sounds too juvenile, but the element of fun is definitely there. After all, it's a weekday and the big event of the day was a moderate 4-hour bike ride. The team house is buzzing with riders, mechanics, sponsors, and staff.

We kicked things off yesterday with a bike-fit session with our shoe and saddle sponsors, Specialized. The company has a long history of designing ergonomically friendly cycling equipment, so they flew out a couple of experts from California to get us set up properly on our new bikes.

The fit session was great. The folks from Specialized gave each of us a full-body assessment before selecting corrective equipment and setting up the bikes. I learned that my right tibia is slightly shortened from a prior injury, and that my hips have rotated out of alignment to compensate. My new shoes and saddle have been chosen and dialed-in accordingly.

Next, each rider pedaled a stationary bike in front of multiple video cameras as the specialists used imaging software to determine the optimal position for comfort, efficiency, and safety. My teammate Toby Marzot is photoed below:

My position on the bike didn't change drastically, but we did address some critical shortcomings that might have led to injuries down the road. It's also encouraging to know that I'm now riding in a more efficient position and that none of those thousands (millions?) of pedal strokes aren't going to waste.

Today we started off with a ride in the morning. After a squirrelly start, each of us quickly adjusted to his new equipment and we rolled along in a tight double-paceline at a brisk 25+ mph for the next few hours. This will be my work environment for the next few months:

Following the ride we had team meetings to discuss the program's goals and philosophy. We also had a second session with the Specialized sponsors to learn more about our equipment. Apparently we're on the only cycling shoes proven to lower your heart rate and increase sprint endurance, as published in a reputable peer-reviewed academic journal. They look good too, which is equally important. White shoes and tall socks (made by DeFeet) are even rumored to make you go faster.

And yes, the other equipment is rolling in. Like Christmas in March. More photos and updates to come.

The Dojo

2010-02-22T18:37:00.000-08:00

With yet another cross country drive behind me (this will be a theme all season), I have arrived to Team Mountain Khakis' headquarters in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Here I will continue my transformation into an unstoppable (or, more accurately, less-stoppable) cycling force as I spend the next 7 months training and racing with some of the best in the sport. Team training camp and the big races are still a few weeks off, but I consider this the long-anticipated beginning to my season. Or at least it's the official beginning to this exciting new chapter in life. After months of anticipation, it's really good to be here.

This is where I'm staying. I couldn't ask for nicer accommodations, and the house only adds to my suspicion that this whole endeavor might someday inspire a reality TV show. The pool is a big plus, and I haven't decided if I'm going to lie out in order to enhance my tan lines or to even them out.

We're getting new team cars this year, but seeing last year's fleet as I pulled up to the driveway for the first time was still an exhilarating sight. Nothing says "I know how to go fast" like a logo-covered car.

And this is what greeted me before I entered the home. Full of Magic Hat No. 9. So much for my nutrition plan.

I've been to the South a few times, and something about this part of the country is just relaxing. I notice it everywhere I go. Motorists don't threaten to run me over for slowing them down. Perfect strangers in the checkout line ahead of me talk to each other about how their days are going, and they take forever to finish their conversation and complete the sale. Yes, my comfy housing helps, but whenever I hang out here I just want to chill out. And that's good, because my job responsibilities fall into 2 main categories: 1) training and racing, and 2) recovery.

I have a rather "Type A" personality, and I'm motivated to train. Pushing myself isn't an issue. I'm happy to work hard and force myself to suffer. But recovery, the time between workouts and races when my body repairs itself, is equally important. The more I can chill out, relax, and keep my stress level to a minimum, the harder I can train and consequently develop into a less-stoppable athlete. That's what the beer keg is for. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

Hello Tan Lines

2010-02-14T08:25:00.000-08:00

Preseason training camp in Santa Barbara is over. I drove straight back all day on Tuesday. This time I completed the trip without incident, windows and morale intact. Now I’m spending a few days in Colorado before taking off for North Carolina on Wednesday, which will serve as home base between trips to races until late September.

Overall the “business trip” to California was a success. I got to catch up with friends and enjoy some quality rides, deliberately timed with my two heaviest training weeks of the year. But, unfortunately, my driving and cycling mishaps really affected my state of mind and overshadowed much of the trip. Initially, I was grateful just to have survived. After a few days, however, the crashes seemed less frightening and more inconvenient, which pushed me into the “frustrated and annoyed” category. Still, I tried to make the most of my time between visits to auto-body repair shops and rounds of wound treatment.

Among the highlights was my comfortable housing near Santa Barbara’s hip downtown, courtesy of my gracious hosts Sarah and Kaitlyn (bottom left and top right, respectively).

They offered to let me stay on their couch for a month, and I volunteered to cook dinner in return. Despite having only partial use of my right hand, I managed to come up with some pretty tasty meals. In fact, now that I'm operating on a pretty flexible schedule, I seem to assume dinner duties in most places I go. If any readers from a temperate climate have a vacant couch and large appetite, let’s chat.

Another huge plus was spending time with the head athletic trainer at Westmont College, Diana Palmer. Diana is super-qualified and runs the treatment program for all varsity athletics at the school, but she specializes in cycling and actually works privately with many pros in the area. I know Diana from running track at Westmont, and she gave me a lot of attention for general injury prevention (hip alignment, stretching, massage, etc.) as well as rehab after my crash. The trip would have been very different without her support.

Perhaps the best souvenir is my new set of tan lines. To normal people, our two-toned appearance is simply weird. But among cyclists, opinions about tan lines are mixed. Those who have lost touch with mainstream fashion (most of us) sport their notorious tan lines with pride, each a badge of honor earned through hours of toiling under the intense, unforgiving sun. Others go to extreme lengths such as “reverse tanning” to even out their coloring and keep their already funny-looking, emaciated bodies from having an even more unnatural appearance.

I’m fairly indifferent, but racing in Philly last April gave me an appreciation for tan lines. It was the first big race of the season, and a few pros and serious Cat 1 guys had just returned from a full winter’s stay in Arizona. They were fit, tan and smug, while the rest of us were pudgy, pale, and intimidated. Not surprisingly, riders performed according to the severity of their sun exposure, tan lines finishing first.

It's only February, and just like my fitness, my modest tan lines are still coming into form. But if they're any indicator of my preparedness for the upcoming season, I'd say I'm in good shape.

More pie, please

2010-01-27T13:18:00.000-08:00

After my car accident I consoled myself by comparing my driving skills to my cycling. Who cares if I'm a crummy driver? I can ride a bike like no nobody's business. I didn't even crash in a race until the end of my second season, as a Cat 1.

Once again, pride comes before the fall. Today I wiped out. I was doing about 30mph down a winding canyon road and hit a smooth, wet patch of pavement. It's a fun place to go fast and I was taking an unnecessary but enjoyable risk. My tires instantly shot out from under me and I slid along the asphalt until coming to a halt on the opposite side of the road. Totally avoidable, and totally my fault. As a college student, I raced down that canyon countless times, always without incident. Then I return as a pro cyclist and crash on round 1. Great.

Fortunately my riding partner, Will Dugan (whom I was riding with for the first time -- how's that for making a good first impression?) skillfully maneuvered around my flailing body. He said the right things to calm me down while he checked out my bike and I inspected my body. All of the damage appeared to be superficial and, after a few cleansing squirts with the water bottle, I was back on the bike and ready to limp the flat 10 miles home. As we rode, Will speculated that perhaps we're all due for one crash a season, so I'm lucky to have mine out of the way early (knock on wood).

More gratitude: it was a relatively good place to take a spill, no cars were around, my injuries are minor, my right hand is torn up but I'm left-handed, my bike is ok, and no else one got hurt.

It's been an interesting week.

Battered but not beaten

2010-01-25T16:09:00.001-08:00

My last post was a bit of a cliff-hanger, and a couple days have passed. Sorry. Here's what happened:

The guys at Big O Tire in Grand Junction checked out my car's back end and alignment, and said I was ok to go. Actually, they said the noise I heard was due simply to uneven tire wear and not some fatal damage. They suggested replacing part of the suspension (!). I pressed if the problem was beyond normal or even a necessary repair and they hesitated. In auto-mechanic speak, this means, "You're fine." And the auto-body shop across the street told me they wouldn't be able to fix anything until Monday (3 days away).

I concluded it made more sense to limp home (300 miles) and take care of my problems there, where I have a place to stay and everything would be easier. So I pulled onto the road with my tail tucked between my legs and a sense of disappointment in myself and my very unsuccessful road trip. As I approached I-70, I literally and figuratively came to one of life's crossroads: Eastbound (home) vs. Westbound (Santa Barbara). Shame, defeat, and the safety of home awaited me to the east, while the west held the promise of victory, optimism, and adventure. It also held the promise of an 850 mile drive through wet winter conditions with 2 cardboard windows and a smashed, punctured windshield. Impulsively, I pulled onto I-70 west.

23 hours later, I rolled into Santa Barbara. I made terrible time. I had to stop a couple dozen times to re-tape my flapping and buzzing windows, but the intermittent snow and rain actually seemed to weigh them down and keep them in place, despite my rising blood pressure each time the car got wet. Put another tally in the victory column for duct tape.

I also got pulled over in Utah. It was inevitable and seemed perfectly consistent with the type of day I was having. I explained to the police officer what had happened and that the auto repair shops along the way offered no immediate help. I think he could sense my sincere distress. And when he ran a history on the plates, he saw that I had just purchased the car two days prior and probably felt sorry for me. Salt in the wound, but also a stroke of good luck -- he let me off with a warning.

At 2 am, with a couple hours left to drive, my driver-side window got stuck down. More salt in the wound. Not a stroke of good luck.

But hey, I got here and I'm in one piece. I woke up the next morning and went for a spectacular 4 hour ride with one of my favorite college professors. Then I ate dinner with some college friends, and repeated it the next day. And again today. While the damage to my car is a glaring reminder of my little misadventure (one of the neighbors, a hospital employee, asked if someone needs medical attention because the car "looks like death"), the troubles from the day before seem insignificant compared to how thrilled I am to be here.

Humble Pie

2010-01-22T09:38:00.000-08:00

I used to brag about my snow driving skills. Learning to drive in Colorado forced me to develop confidence behind the wheel in slick conditions and the ability to recover from any skid. Well, my hubris caught up with me this morning as I skidded off the highway and trashed my car. Ouch. One signpost dented the rear quarter panel and busted the glass on both the rear windshield and side window. Another signpost karate-chopped over the front of the car and smashed the front windshield. And a third, invisible signpost careened straight through the glass and shattered my ego.

I was surprisingly calm as I pulled up to a gas station and started to fabricate makeshift rear and side windows out of salvaged cardboard and duct tape, my hands numb in the icy predawn. It's funny how events like these put things into perspective -- yesterday I was easily frustrated by any delay to my departure, whereas my first reaction today was gratitude. Losing control of a car is scary. I'm grateful the accident wasn't more serious. I'm grateful I didn't hit anyone else, and that the damage to my vehicle isn't worse. It seems to drive ok, which is awesome. I'm especially thankful not to be injured. Better the car than me! And above all, I'm struck by how I have a lifestyle where smashing up a car qualifies as a minor disaster. That's nothing compared to what's going on in places like Haiti.

Right now I'm waiting nervously in the Big O Tires in Grand Junction, CO. Prior to my mishap I noticed some noise coming from the rear axle, and now I want to get it checked out before hitting the road again. Then I'll decide if I'm going to press on or turn back.

California Dreaming

2010-01-21T18:06:00.000-08:00

Whew, alright. The laundry is done, my bike is tuned-up, and the car is packed. I'm hitting the road in two hours! For most of this month I've been trying to get myself out to Santa Barbara for a few weeks' training before I start the season out east. I can't wait. Santa Barbara is one of the most beautiful places in the world, and the terrain and weather is perfect for cycling. I'm looking forward to catching up with a lot of friends from college, and I haven't been back since graduating in 2007. But most of all, I can't think of a more exciting reason to visit -- to prep for the exciting season of racing ahead.

My initial plan was to get a car at the beginning of the month and drive west, but my search for a new set of wheels was tougher than I thought. Good cars have been hard to find. My friend Jake offered to let me use his 20+ year-old Ford F150, a brown hulk of a vehicle nicknamed "Fudge" with over 200,000 miles and a sweet foldout camper on top. He lived out of it for a few months last summer while working as a smoke jumper in Southern California, so it's quite homey. I was psyched on the idea but Jake made two things very clear: "I'm not comfortable with you taking this car without a good set of tools and the Bible (a mechanics manual for his truck)" and "You can not be in a hurry to get anywhere" (Fudge doesn't go faster than 55 mph). Hmmm. Driving Fudge probably would have given me lots of great material for this blog, but I thought twice and reformulated my plan. I was about to pull the trigger on a last minute plane ticket, but earlier this week I found the perfect '97 Honda Civic and now I'm counting on it to transport me to both coasts in the next month.

Fortunately the weather in Colorado has been fabulous for the last couple of weeks, while California has been pounded by the "Western Wollop," a series of storms large enough to warrant their own catchy title on national news. Now the temperature is dropping in Colorado and things are clearing up out west. Perfect.

Stay tuned and I'll update with either harrowing tales of car trouble in the barren Utah desert or stories of my blissful reunion with the Pacific Coast.

Published

2010-01-21T07:48:00.000-08:00

Ok, so maybe I'm friends with the guy who runs the website, but here's a first: I wrote a brief how-to article and it was published.

My friends at CyclingReporter.com asked me for a few tips on sprinting (the fast, chaotic finish to most bike races) and what I came up with is a bit longer than the few bullet points requested. Here's what I've observed in 2 seasons of trial-and-error bike racing:

http://cyclingreporter.com/2010/01/20/how-to-win-a-sprint/

The Incredible Shrinking Man

2010-01-08T07:48:00.000-08:00

Most Americans are giving themselves the same pep-talk: the Holidays are over, the social calendar has cleared up, and those Santa-shaped cookies have finally disappeared from the fridge. The New Year has begun, so it's time to clamp down and get back to business. In my case, that means a return to my pre-Christmas eating habits.

Facing a month-long series of holiday parties and culinary temptation, I opted to take a mental break from my diet. Rather than resist, fail, and get discouraged, I cut myself some slack and enjoyed the season. Now I'm returning to my Spartan habits a couple pounds heavier but with a positive state of mind. That's an acceptable trade-off.

I'm a big believer in mental rest. While we're all are pretty objective about our physical needs, taking a similar approach to mental and emotional health is less common. Most of us have no problem recognizing when our bodies are tired and are willing to rest. But the more common response to stress and emotional fatigue is just to ignore it and push on. Watching my diet demands a lot of mental energy, so I concluded the right thing to do would be to enjoy some time off.

Cyclists obsess about weight because of a simple rule of physics: light = fast. For the industry, rich people, and the equipment-obsessed, this principle is a convenient excuse to spend thousands of dollars on blinged-out, ultra-lightweight cycling equipment. In my case, it's an excuse to indulge in my secret preference for the I-just-finished-a-hunger-strike look. It's also an excuse to be stingy. At the bar: "Neil, how about another round?" Neil: "Sorry guys, gotta stay skinny."

I finished the 2009 racing season as a pudgy Category 1 cyclist. "Pudgy" here is a relative term, but for someone who rides a couple hundred miles a week and competes in a sport where carrying a few extra pounds directly compromises performance, it was a problem. See this photo taken taken in September 2009 (original image by Anthony Skorochod via Velonews), where I tipped the scales at 169 lbs:

Knowing that I would really have to step up my game for 2010, I decided to get serious about my weight. Here I am just a few weeks later and a svelte 10 pounds lighter:

So what did I do? I ate less food! I had always avoided junk food but never really paid attention to how much I was eating. All I knew was that I was exercising like crazy, and I didn't want to be malnourished. But my weight hadn't changed at all in 10 years, despite recently increasing my activity as a bike messenger and even more so as a racer. I also had absolutely no idea how many calories I was consuming or burning. So I took a few important steps to motivate and educate myself:

I weighed myself everyday and wrote it down. Some folks will tell you not to do this because you'll become neurotic and lose motivation. Maybe. But in my case, it was a daily reminder that managing my weight is an important goal, and seeing the series of each day's numbers was just the accountability I needed. I also got a sense of how much day-to-day weight fluctuation is normal.

I kept a food journal. It was amazing to see how much I eat. And once again, having a written record was motivation to do a good job. I don't want to eat crap if I'm gonna have to write it down.

I counted calories. About once a week I would add up all of the calories from only that day's food journal. Not every day. There are a lot of really complicated online calorie calculators out there, but I found that just googling "calories in ______" is nearly as effective. It was really interesting to see how quickly the numbers added up and how just a few seemingly innocent culprits (e.g. almond butter) were actually spoiling my healthy eating habits.

I paid attention. I tried to get a grip on how much food goes into a 2000 calorie day. After using the food calculator only a few times, I had enormously expanded my knowledge about calories. Previously, I had no idea how much food I was eating or should be eating. Now when I look at a plate of food, I have a general sense of whether it's way too much or too little food. I also paid attention to what the right amount of calories feels like: how full I should feel after meals and how hungry I should feel before. In my case, I learned that my hunger mechanism overcompensates for my activity and that eating the right amount of food actually leaves me just slightly hungry. I also learned that it's actually pretty easy to eat as many calories as you burn in an 80 mile bike ride, so exercising like crazy doesn't justify eating as much as you want.

I learned general principles and didn't get obsessed with details. I used to work with a group of management consultants who preached the 80-20 rule: for any problem you're trying to solve, the first 20% of work is where you'll learn 80% of the solution. Beyond the initial effort, you'll see far fewer rewards for you efforts. Rather than getting a PhD in nutrition science and counting every single calorie, doing some very basic research took me from zero awareness to now having pretty good control of my diet.

Velonews!

2009-12-31T14:01:00.000-08:00

Looks like I've got a lot to live up to:

http://velonews.competitor.com/2009/12/news/neil-bezdek-has-gone-from-bike-messenger-to-a-domestic-pro-in-two-seasons_102134

This article is by Daniel McMahon, a former teammate and friend of mine from New York City. Congrats to Dan; getting published by Velonews is no small feat. I'll do my best to give him more things to write about.

My parents reminded me that exactly one year ago, to the day, I left Team We Stand United and was feeling fairly distraught. I departed the team on good terms, and consider the guys some of my best friends in NYC. Still, I wasn't happy about being teamless and staring at the prospect of racing all of 2009 unattached and unsupported. Joining WS United was the turning point in what had been a tough year for me, and being teamless once again put me in a funk. The cold and the grey outside didn't help much either, but I resolved to train harder so I could come out of the gate swinging at the beginning of the season in March.

Needless to say, things are looking up for 2010. It's crazy what can happen in a year.

Week 1: Home Sweet Home

2009-12-20T17:36:00.000-08:00

With 3 days of fast food, AM talk radio, and this thrilling landscape behind me, I'm happy to report that I'm home in Colorado. The plan is to hang out here for the next 6 weeks before shipping off to Santa Barbara, where the pasty skin on my arms and legs will get re-acquainted with the sun.

Moving was harder than I thought. Two truths have been confirmed: 1) Living in the same place for 2.5 years means you're going to accumulate a lot of junk, and 2) It's always possible to fit more stuff into a car than you would think. Necessities like my bike repair stand and foam roller (a ridiculously bulky, overpriced piece of foam used for leg stretching) made it into the car. Only a microwave, a toaster, and a few lamps were left behind. Life goes on.

I sprang out of bed the day after arriving to a greet a morning that felt like Christmas. Let the 2010 training season begin! Fresh air, smooth roads, sunshine, and hours of oxygen deprivation and self-inflicted suffering awaited me outside. Pure bliss.

Instead of battling my alarm clock at 5am for my weekday ride, I rolled out of bed at 7. Instead of gulping down pre-made breakfast, I took the time to make steel cut oats from scratch and lovingly slice banana over my breakfast, one at a time. Instead of gulping down scalding coffee and burning the roof of my mouth, I sat at the kitchen table and read the morning paper while savoring each small sip. Instead of stuffing my work blackberry (i.e. "leash") into my jersey pocket, I carried a digital camera.

Three days and 225 miles later, I've a noticed a few differences between my cycling habits in NYC and Colorado.

Motorists in CO give me a full ten feet of space when passing. But if I run a red light, they glare and honk like I'm breaking the law or something. In NYC they don't give a damn. Winner: NYC
Motorists in CO wave at me with all five fingers. In NYC they use just one. Winner: Colorado
In Colorado I'm harassed by antler-adorned, Confederate flag-waving, yahoo-operated pickup trucks. In NYC the cab drivers are kind enough to shout at me in a foreign language I can't understand. Winner: NYC.
40 degrees in Colorado means knee-warmers and full-fingered gloves. 40 degrees out east demands the full treatment: base layer, cap, shoe covers, etc. Winner: Colorado
One day one I stopped for a beverage and cookie at a hip coffee shop and it cost me only $1.80. Similar fare at the go-to coffee shop for cyclists 25 miles outside of NYC costs $6. Winner: Colorado
I didn't see anyone I know at the coffee shop, or any other cyclists for that matter. Despite being home to over 8 million people, it's impossible to go for a training ride in NYC without seeing a few of your friends. Winner: NYC
Living in Brooklyn meant I had to fight my way through 15 miles of traffic in the densest city in the country just to get to decent road. Out here, roads like these are waiting for me right out the front door. Winner: Colorado

Neil's New Job: FAQ

2009-12-11T10:52:00.000-08:00

Most people raise their eyebrows and give me a puzzled look when I say I’m leaving my job and NYC to race bikes full time. Professional cyclist? Really? You get paid to ride your bike? Apparently this whole endeavor needs some clarification. To kick off the new blog, below are the questions I answer the most.

I’m starting this blog to report on my racing adventures in the coming year. Stay tuned and I’ll post regularly with updates and photos from my new job.

What does it mean to be a pro cyclist? Is that just code for bike bum? Who hires you?

I’m an employee of a cycling team, and the team is funded by sponsors who expect us to attract (positive) attention to ourselves through racing. The team provides equipment, travel, and salary, and in exchange we cover ourselves in our sponsors’ logos wherever we go. We’re named Team Mountain Khakis fueled by Jittery Joe’s because our two largest sponsors are a clothing company and coffee company. My job responsibilities are to prepare for and participate in races and a few other promotional events such as bike clinics, charity rides, etc.

My team is “professional” because it is licensed by the UCI, which is the international sanctioning organization for all types of bike racing. Our status with the UCI makes us eligible for pro races.

When does the season start? What are you going to do in the meantime?

Racing officially begins in March, and prior to that the team will have a weeklong training camp in Greenville, SC. We’ll get to know each other, try out our new equipment, meet the sponsors, take photos, and of course, train.

In the meantime I’m going to move home to Colorado, spend the holidays with my folks, and then make my way out to Santa Barbara to spend the winter months where it’s warm and sunny. I went to college there and haven’t been back since graduating in 2007.

After training camp I’ll base myself in North Carolina, where the team is headquartered, and hit the road. As “the new guy’ it behooves me to stay in the same place as team management and learn as much as I can.

What type of races are you going to do? How long are your races?

I’ll do a mix of criteriums, road races, and stage races. Most races have 100-150 competitors, and knowing how to navigate through a crowd that large is just as important as pedaling hard. Some races will combine elite amateurs and professionals, and others will be open to pros only.

Criteriums are short, fast races usually held on a closed course right in the middle of a city or town. These are very spectator-friendly and resemble racecar driving more than, say, running a marathon. These are usually 30 to 50 miles long and take 1-2 hours to complete. This type of races favors an explosive, daring cyclist and will be my primary focus for 2010. Here I am in a criterium this year in Harlem:

Road races are generally much longer and take racers on one or two very long loops through a rural area. Most of these races are 75 to 150 miles long and take 3 to 6 hours to complete.

Stage races are multi-day races that combine criteriums, road races, and time trials (an individual race against the clock). Winning the overall (shortest cumulative time) and individual stages (first across the line that day) are both objectives but often require different strategies. Stage races in the US are generally 3 to 7 days long.

Where are your races? How do you get there?

We’ll race all over the US but will favor the East Coast because team management and most sponsors are headquartered here. We’ll either drive team vehicles (a couple of logo-covered cars and a big van with bikes on top) or fly to races depending on the distance.

Are you going to be in the Tour de France?

Not yet! If cycling is soccer, the Tour de France is the World Cup. I just made it into the major leagues in the US. I need to pedal a few hundred thousand miles (literally) before I’m ready for that one.

How much do you train?

During the winter I’ll pedal about 30 hours (500+ miles) a week and mix in some weight-lifting, yoga, plyometrics, etc. As racing season approaches, I’ll start to reduce my volume but increase the intensity of workouts.

Napping, stretching, massage, and eating are also an important part of training. This means a 4-hour training ride actually turns into a 7-hour affair.

Do you have to watch what you eat? How many calories do you eat in a day?

This is where I totally geek-out.

Cyclists have to balance two competing needs: 1) eating enough to fuel workouts and 2) not gaining weight. Drinking beer and eating pizza might be good for my social life (and sanity) but I’m afraid neither will help my cycling.

On a hard day I’ll consume as much as 6000 calories, but it varies depending on how much I exercise. Easy days are only 2200. I roughly calculate my calorie needs for each day and eat accordingly. I try to eat only enough carbohydrates to match my workouts and then consume lean protein and produce the rest of the time.

How did you get on the team?

Every summer Team Mountain Khakis holds a Talent Identification camp in North Carolina. The program gives rising amateurs like me an opportunity to observe how a pro team functions, learn what it takes to make a living in this sport, and tryout for the team. I had some solid results going into the tryout and even won a race while I was down there, but I learned that cycling teams look for professionalism and enthusiasm as much as they want someone who can pedal hard. I took a gamble by flying down there but I guess it paid off!

How many people are on the team?

We have 13-man roster. Usually the team will send about 6 or 7 guys to each race, so we’re not always racing together. Team management selects a well-rounded lineup for each race, taking into account each rider’s current level of fitness, riding style, experience, etc.

Do you all live together?

No. Actually, we have riders from all of the country but a good portion of the team is based in the south. Since I have a lot to learn and am free to relocate wherever I want, I’m going to base myself in North Carolina with the team. It also makes sense because team-provided transportation to races starts and finishes in North Carolina. However, I’m free to deviate from team travel plans and am looking forward to spending time in places like New York City between races.

How long can a cyclist’s career last?

Racers tend to peak in their early thirties and some athletes compete fulltime into their early forties. Fitness is cumulative from year to year, so an older rider will benefit from years of training and stay competitive despite being well past his or her youth.

Stayed tuned

2009-10-17T07:19:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone -

I'm starting a blog to share my experiences during next year's foray into professional cycling. Check back in December when I'll start updating regularly.

onward,
Neil