tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-337225162024-02-28T10:36:29.105-08:00Hammer(d)Bikes, Portland, DesignCigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-90940376856663293712011-03-31T12:29:00.000-07:002011-03-31T12:29:37.227-07:00Heartbreaking<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HQfOFVMth5Q" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
perhaps the most heartbreaking piece about parents and children since 'The Giving Tree'<br />
<br />
In all reality, this is pretty much the story of my life so far...maybe that's why it hurts so much.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-42193599222143413792011-01-20T14:46:00.000-08:002011-01-20T15:11:36.714-08:00Wow, So this blog is pretty much dead....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRNJwHEIW-g-S5ewfxP7isfTZqFMSqcctnjxXuxOBX4tQ7Rv1o7rfuKCSpHI2VCHIJDzGvyWbXHq3VkCWkkWJ6m-XMtgImv-IBdw5l7YurONocNlqNyh3lcCZbf4ZD2NCBcwK/s1600/DSC_3527.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRNJwHEIW-g-S5ewfxP7isfTZqFMSqcctnjxXuxOBX4tQ7Rv1o7rfuKCSpHI2VCHIJDzGvyWbXHq3VkCWkkWJ6m-XMtgImv-IBdw5l7YurONocNlqNyh3lcCZbf4ZD2NCBcwK/s400/DSC_3527.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564409625314152242" /></a><br />I'm sort of surprised someone didn't take it away from me with a back handed slap. But then again, there really isn't any sort of standard of performance for the web and blogs. That's both the beauty and straight ugliness of it. huh.<br /><br />So as my last post intimated, I used to race bikes. I used to train hard and all that. I went into off season of 2010 feeling pretty good about myself. Self-satisfied, even. I'd upgraded, won a couple races, placed in a few more, lost a bunch of weight and basically scared all the other cat 4's in the field with my THUNDEROUS quads. So why not think I'd continue ripping fools in 2011? Well. Whatevs. All urine in the dirty diapers...or something like that.<br /><br />But I'm BACK. Well, as a shell of what I once was- but I've returned. I had a stint of training prior to the beginning of the cross season to salvage any notion of being a bike racer. Which sort of worked. I lined up and watched everyone ride away at the start every time. I beat some guys (thank god for mechanicals), got beat by a lot more. But I was out there, suffering, getting dirty, tasting blood and looking at my legs and wondering why they weren't producing the power I kept (irrationally) expecting them to. It was tough, though. I kept reminding myself to ease up on the expectations, ride for fun and friends...but I think I'm not really wired to participate in parades...I want to... I want to be that guy who can just put on a tutu and ride for the experience. But fuck that. I want to win, I want to crush my enemies and all that. What can you do? So I was invariably a little upset, a little demoralized and a bit like 'what the fuck am I doing out here?' I like cross, but I like the 'idea' of cross way more. So if I'm not getting to beat people it's mostly just taking a belt sander to my crotch for 45 minutes.<br /><br />So I'm back. I'm 'training' as best I can, given the circumstances of being a parent. The miles are coming slowly, the fat seems to stick around longer. This time last year I was feeling pretty good. This year, I'm pretty far behind that schedule. But with any luck, I'll be firing by the time crit season comes around. We'll see.<br /><br />In other news, I'm psyched about the team. We had our big meeting this last weekend...Lots of cool sponsors, lots of sponsor support to back it all up and a new, swanky kit that cost too much, but looks really super. Makes me want to drink beer. We'll be looking pro in our new helmets, kit, and whatnot - if only there was positive correlation between time spent thinking about results and results...Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-71999989337478489642010-05-24T16:56:00.000-07:002010-05-25T10:04:08.343-07:00I used to race bikes...So...my wife and I had a lovely little baby girl in March of this year..on the 7th to be exact. And my life changed, as predicted, for ever, in more ways than I can detail here, and for sure, in more ways than I really know right now. Suffice it to say that it has been amazing. The world blew up and gave me a new life, one filled with new joy and growth and intimacy and a new understanding of who I am. Earth shattering goodness.<br /><br />It also took a lot away. For better and for worse. And right now, I am mourning the loss of a lot of it. There is no doubt in my mind that a lot of what I'm going through has to do with other things, like my career, the weather, my age....what's new. But on the other hand, I think I am really sad about the things that I have given up to be a father. Perhaps the most obvious of those things is the ability to prioritize myself, or more specifically, my desires...like for instance, riding and racing a bike.<br /><br />It wasn't that long ago, that I felt like I was creating a community with the bike. Friends, teammates, adversaries, all part of this little world that goes along with bike racing in Portland. I was finding my place. I even got called a sandbagger! And now, it seems like a distant memory. I can feel the four extra pounds around my waist that have grown there in the absence of racing and training. I no longer feel the strength in my legs. I feel weak- more than weak in the legs, or the lungs, but weak in the heart, the soul. It all hurts a bit. And worst of all, I don't know how to get it back. There simply is not enough time to be present for my wife, my child, and myself all at the same time. Something has to give and I don't know how to do it.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-55578771927664464312010-05-24T16:53:00.000-07:002010-05-24T16:54:00.943-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfpLe_dgOAvK4HT8JLY6B1BhMQ4ucXk2eMGHWWzo5RFbBS3pmCHp4NSnqb_dyU4zPXk3wRPwqiu7p-y6OZoWXpb5rRFnd1yHeqs7VwlT88aFRXS7g0y3mn49toFJB4_Qk8fLE/s1600/dirtbike.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfpLe_dgOAvK4HT8JLY6B1BhMQ4ucXk2eMGHWWzo5RFbBS3pmCHp4NSnqb_dyU4zPXk3wRPwqiu7p-y6OZoWXpb5rRFnd1yHeqs7VwlT88aFRXS7g0y3mn49toFJB4_Qk8fLE/s400/dirtbike.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474989020666785298" /></a>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-19582166508678960322010-05-24T16:49:00.000-07:002010-05-24T16:51:09.060-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXCUojUGGMP-Lpdrd52eTUK-UmnlIVCkiCLSWsNRXtCpPQT8NIcYiiGWl6diKECjq2k6d0gIdmlDrPTBrwRi6s7kWNtFF-QwUQNy217Pr3GZGdLW-PTcHel7DN_DmGHyjfsOB/s1600/PILE_O_WHEELS4.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 87px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXCUojUGGMP-Lpdrd52eTUK-UmnlIVCkiCLSWsNRXtCpPQT8NIcYiiGWl6diKECjq2k6d0gIdmlDrPTBrwRi6s7kWNtFF-QwUQNy217Pr3GZGdLW-PTcHel7DN_DmGHyjfsOB/s400/PILE_O_WHEELS4.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474988167028281570" /></a>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-26460349835229032572010-03-02T08:08:00.000-08:002010-03-02T08:28:47.290-08:00This post by<a href="http://bikefag.wordpress.com/2010/02/09/training/">BikeFag article on training is brilliant</a>, and comes exactly at the right time in my life. I've been noticing my burgeoning self-consciousness about my weight (i.e. I'm five pounds 'over-weight'), my decreasing satisfaction in just 'riding' to enjoy riding, and my inflated sense of competitiveness that makes me think of everyone else who rides a bike as an adversary. Hmmm...I'm a douchebag. <br /><br />[crack beer, turn of TV or do something productive not related to cycling]<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MWS96nzFUks&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MWS96nzFUks&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GS2q-8dFyiw&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GS2q-8dFyiw&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-12557137129360426342010-02-25T15:16:00.000-08:002010-02-25T15:17:04.418-08:00Ali"Champions aren't made in the gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them: a desire, a dream, a vision."Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-54078846338629118182010-02-11T17:02:00.001-08:002010-02-11T17:20:03.057-08:00So it begins...again..But not for me...My 2010 race debut is a bit off, yet...But I've been sweaty-palmed over it for weeks now...months really. It's what's been keeping me motivated in the rain, the wet, the mud and grit of the road that screens it's way into the chamois through the Lycra. It has to be something special to warrant that kind of self inflicted abuse, doesn't it? I'm not sure why it is. But I spend a lot of time thinking about, working on, and worrying about bike racing. I'll admit I'm pretty fixated on winning. Though I have no guarantees of that. I'm racing as a Cat 3 this year- I may just get my ass handed to me. I really have no idea. I know that I'm stronger now this year, at this time, than I was last year- that gives me hope. But right now, that's all it is. hope. <br /><br />I build a lot of plans on hope. Maybe too many. Maybe too few. In other parts of my life I'm more cautious, more timid. I'll plan less about the future. I'll spend less energy thinking about it, less effort creating the plan and worrying about it. In part, no doubt, out of fear that those plans will fail. With cycling, with racing, I plan with abandon. I hope, and wish, and scheme success. I mark goals, benchmarks, and fantasy wins. I schedule, test, verify, modify and test again in order to put myself in position to accomplish my goals. I can't bring myself to do that with the rest of my life. I look at my life with some ennui, in that way. I see only my missed chances, missed goals, and missed opportunities. Why is that? Planning for failure? As a friend used to say in design school: 'That's not a Gantt chart, that's a CAN'T chart.'<br /><br />As for dreaming- nabbed this little <a href="http://www.bartape.net/hdvp.aspx?id=13&q=SD405">vid </a>from <a href="http://sprintingforsigns.blogspot.com/">Sprinting for Signs</a> via a teammates <a href="http://emilianojordan.com/">blog</a>. It's really a great marketing piece for the Cervelo mystique...and I love it.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-33980447028953319002010-02-05T13:33:00.000-08:002010-02-05T13:37:06.026-08:00On a lighter note...but somehow related...Got this via <a href="http://youthewhoa.blogspot.com/">'the Whoa'</a>...(note: not all is NSFW)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UfOnld45Y1Pz3mK8N0z3YPW4m8j81r0MuRhEoZhgbvE0fDk6ISVESQtm6PEUST6FqXAUejwnl5QAoQaaZt2Qvu6DKx9uBhCY-DHTknldCKzfPmoxLHIYY7ny0FKF3xLb_uKI/s1600-h/Getting+back+to+basics...jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 194px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UfOnld45Y1Pz3mK8N0z3YPW4m8j81r0MuRhEoZhgbvE0fDk6ISVESQtm6PEUST6FqXAUejwnl5QAoQaaZt2Qvu6DKx9uBhCY-DHTknldCKzfPmoxLHIYY7ny0FKF3xLb_uKI/s400/Getting+back+to+basics...jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434876203948443746" /></a><br /><br />Getting back to basicsCigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-25262424551914127102010-02-05T13:25:00.000-08:002010-02-05T13:30:17.410-08:00The price..'Hello, Small Town in USA? Yeah...We're gonna rip you off and undercut your business by making it outside the U.S....yeah..sorry 'bout that...Margins, you know. Jobs? Yeeeaah... Have a good day.'Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-14334553790481330322010-01-21T11:05:00.000-08:002010-01-21T11:11:09.159-08:00Reality Check<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Agl2cd_bAzIIdK5K-UQspnKoORvdx1HczogfzvZ310eyeZc50sf9XapLALq7LB4xuv9GSYCme1XYdsMtn7YQAWYqtWYax158ysD7sY55XJH7qP7xW3e5mr1zCi4GshV_XQP_/s1600-h/chris_horner.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Agl2cd_bAzIIdK5K-UQspnKoORvdx1HczogfzvZ310eyeZc50sf9XapLALq7LB4xuv9GSYCme1XYdsMtn7YQAWYqtWYax158ysD7sY55XJH7qP7xW3e5mr1zCi4GshV_XQP_/s320/chris_horner.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429272587631528066" /></a><br />Ok.<br />Chris Horner is nuts. But really, if you can eat like this guy and still pull off eighth at Elite Worlds then talent makes up for big blunders...OR....nutrition is over rated, and all this talk about 'the right fuel to keep your machine running at it's highest level' is all a crock of poorly digested flaxseed and dark leafy greens. <br /><br />While I'm not going to risk e.coli infection by running out to the closest fastfood hell hole, it does put eating 'right' into a whole new light.<br /><a href="http://www.chrishornerracing.com/articles/2010/1/8/nutrition.html"><br />http://www.chrishornerracing.com/articles/2010/1/8/nutrition.html</a>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-47860865250175543352010-01-14T13:43:00.000-08:002010-01-14T13:51:40.018-08:00I can't say I am all that into the whole downhill mtnbike thing...but this is pretty crazy...An urban downhill race held in Rio. Its pretty crazy to think about what it's like to live there, as this guy rides his downhill bike through the alleys.<br /><br /><a href="http://rootrider.tv/ver_video.php?cd_video=63&idioma=PT">http://rootrider.tv/ver_video.php?cd_video=63&idioma=PT<br /></a>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-56467103938201122892010-01-05T10:19:00.000-08:002010-01-05T10:25:18.460-08:00Great <a href="http://www.cyclingweekly.co.uk/news/latest/436524/bradley-wiggins-the-transformation.html">article </a>from Cycling Weekly on Brad Wiggins and his transformation from grupetto trackie to Tour contender. I'm a fan of the Brit(...not so much the velour jacket mod rocker look).Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-79644912228415469722009-12-03T16:09:00.000-08:002009-12-03T16:26:14.736-08:00Contre La MontreI remember seeing this movie when I was fourteen, at the UC Theater in Berkeley. Bike racing had infected me some three years earlier- I barely knew what bike racing was, as the Europeans did it, as the pros did it. I'd only ever seen the Berkeley Criterium to that point, which was held near my house, down on Fourth street, in what is now a posh business filled row. Back in the day, it was factories, workshops, and Spenger's Fish house. They raced on bad roads, over train tracks, around and around in a rectangle. When I saw that clip, on a double bill with 'Stars and Water Carriers', I was transfixed. I hadn't seen this clip since then. It still stirs me, captures me. I understand it a bit more, the whole bike racing thing, and it is now only more compelling.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Dwg_jg-6AHA&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Dwg_jg-6AHA&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-59295757183654164702009-12-02T12:04:00.000-08:002009-12-02T12:06:25.125-08:00This pretty much says it...<object height="344" width="425">I don't know who did it, but its HI-larious...<param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QuVt3SxUk3c&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QuVt3SxUk3c&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-82999400222449617562009-11-06T10:55:00.000-08:002009-11-06T11:00:29.809-08:00Standing StartThis via Brad Wiggins (twitter post).<br />Nothing like mixing some Greek classics about war/meaning/man (as narrated by someone from the British Isles) and cycling to get the adrenalin pumping.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ki2re9uILtc">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ki2re9uILtc</a><br /><br />Makes me want to race track more...especially if we had a sweet indoor facility. Will Portland ever get it done?Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-76548314581758742122009-11-04T13:24:00.000-08:002009-11-04T14:00:19.182-08:00Sandbagging -So, since my last post two weeks ago, things have been sinking slowly into the shitter. On the heels of my win at Hillsboro I was called out on the 'Smack Talk' section of the Cross Crusade chats. Someone grabbed my results from this season, noting my start in the master b's and subsequent drop to the master c's and, posted them, and let the feeding frenzy ensue.<br /><br />Now, I'm not the thickest skinned person. I'll be the first to admit. I wasn't raised to not give a shit about what other people think of me. In fact, I was raised oppositely; to care, in general, what people think, how they feel - in short, to be sensitive to others. So while I'm nice that way, I'm a bit weak with respect to others' criticism of me. So when I got called a sandbagger on line I took it the best way I could. I assumed this was fairly good natured. I can take that. I know it looks bad that I cat'd down. Anyway, I responded...<a href="http://www.crosscrusade.com/forum/forum_posts.asp?TID=2717&PN=1">read </a>for yourself. My id is 'cramps'.<br /><br />It became clear that it wasn't really all that good natured. There are people out there who don't care how much they hurt others. Who don't care if there are ramifications for their behavior on line. Like flipping someone off on the freeway is essentially anonymous, the name calling and labeling on the chats is harassment, and its cruel. <br /><br />The big result of all this dis'ing is I don't really want to race 'cross anymore. I don't want to be out there, busting my ass with a bunch of people who don't respect me, the competition, or the spirit of it all. The whole exchange has really poisoned 'cross for me. I've been saying 'just fuck it, it's not worth it' for days now. I don't want to be a quitter, but I don't see any reason to participate so long as it's this shitty. I've lost a lot of respect for the other riders, in and out of my category, who called me a sandbagger, and frankly don't want to have anything to do with them.<br /><br />There seems to have been more problems this year with people behaving badly at 'cross. I don't know if its a trend. 'Cross has gotten pretty big, and since it's been so inclusive, it's brought in a lot of people who maybe don't get the vibe, or have changed it to their liking, in a way that I don't. But a lot of complaining, name calling, bike throwing, bad language, bad behavior toward others had happened this season and I don't like it. I wasn't as plugged in to the social scene last year...but I was on the chats, and reading the comments and I don't remember it being so bad. Anyway, it makes me sad. Something good is dead, or dying and I'm not sure there is anything I can do about it.<br /><br />------------------------<br />since I posted last on the chats one of the other writers posted an apology for the whining and smack talking. So that was a bit of save for me. And still others have come to my 'defense' to some degree, so that is good. I'm not sure I am ready to play again. I'm not sure its worth it. If the price of doing well is what I've seen from others, I don't want to have anything to do with it. ever.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-62840329666841106792009-10-27T12:14:00.000-07:002009-10-27T14:39:01.374-07:00Hillsboro Cross Crusade #4 Rematch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIO2VM8Dm3rptoJSrZiD1cAz3hADYcjYXx_RYMcCTTTUxQJzmu4ULlhXxc75P_kRAgishZbtfnJT7vXQdZ00oDseSSNCmOkH_alRBeSxodtwYH5goxkazBpNTB4YWwUo97SEa/s1600-h/cc0904smy418.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIO2VM8Dm3rptoJSrZiD1cAz3hADYcjYXx_RYMcCTTTUxQJzmu4ULlhXxc75P_kRAgishZbtfnJT7vXQdZ00oDseSSNCmOkH_alRBeSxodtwYH5goxkazBpNTB4YWwUo97SEa/s320/cc0904smy418.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397393565948313906" border="0" /></a>Last year, I showed up to the final race of the Crusade series in Hillsboro having spent the entire cross season racing rather unremarkably. I started with a blast at Pain on the Peak (a race I'm still recovering from) with a third place- A totally unexpected result, having never done a cross race before. But the rest of the season was a slow nose dive into mediocrity. By the time Hillsboro came around I was feeling better, and then I saw the start order, I was in first group call up- finally. I was psyched. Then I saw the poop pit and then I wasn't psyched. I was poised for a fine finish. When the whistle blew, I jumped right into the top twenty, but before I could settle in, my front wheel was taken out and I landed hard, followed by at least one other rider who plowed into my head, and back. I stayed turtled, waiting for the other 125 guys to kill me before getting up. When I straightened out the bars, shifters and surmised there was no internal bleeding I remounted and chased- chased so fuckin' hard. In the space of a minute I went from twentieth to dead-fuckin'-last, and finally, when all the poop was washed off, to 23rd. So while I didn't DNF, I wasn't happy. I've been kicking myself about that all year. Sunday was rematch time.<br /><br />After burying myself at the Sherwood Horse Poop Fest to get points (started in third or fourth to last group - somewhere around 120 of 183, finally placing 16th!)- I got a call up for Hillsboro where my start position was just about exactly the same as last year. All I could think about was getting my legs swept and ending up chasing as usual.<br /><br />The start went well. I've figured out that I don't do well leading others in a cross race. When I have riders on my tail, all I can think about is those riders passing me. So I purposely didn't go for the hole shot. Instead I got into the top five and let things string out a bit. I kept my eye on the top three, trying to judge what was going to happen. Pretty quickly two Pac Power riders went to the front a drove the pace. I had to jump past a couple riders to catch them, but that brought me into third place, where I pretty much stayed the entire race, save for one lap. The smaller of the Pac Power riders was a great bike handler, carving every turn easily and carrying a lot of speed into the straights. His teammate wasn't as good, and kept opening the door between himself and his teammate. Eventually I had to jump across to stay with him. We were joined by an S&M rider and an unmarked rider. The four of us traded positions throughout the race.<br /><br />On the 4th lap, I think, the unmarked rider attacked. I had seen him earlier in the race, and wasn't aware that he'd stayed with us at the front. He jumped out in front and proceeded to motor so hard I was gasping. Just when I was starting to let go, either the S&M rider, or the PacPower rider pulled through and I grabbed wheel and stayed with the leaders. Luckily it was short lived, and before long we were headed into the curves before the barriers on the backside and everything slowed a bit and I could catch my breath.<br /><br />On the 5th lap at the mud hole, the S&M rider <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43zVMUypTlwAga1k276wMgsqV5CeuHHozKzl3CXfcm3PYHfSC9U3i9IHj6Ob-2eLvVE65hDgrpPp3hLHTYQJYQJSWQy1gKECX-wDkV0f-ZTAx_3lw_l2Rvsw9nY0XVp7AbzjI/s1600-h/DSC_2352.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43zVMUypTlwAga1k276wMgsqV5CeuHHozKzl3CXfcm3PYHfSC9U3i9IHj6Ob-2eLvVE65hDgrpPp3hLHTYQJYQJSWQy1gKECX-wDkV0f-ZTAx_3lw_l2Rvsw9nY0XVp7AbzjI/s320/DSC_2352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397394970127138146" border="0" /></a>attacked. Again, I followed just barely. The only thing keeping me in contact was his mediocre cornering on the back side of the course coming off the asphalt road with the speed bumps. At the muddy uphill turn he botched it and I took the lead from him. With the Hammer team tent right there full of screaming teammates adrenaline got the best of me and I attacked out of instinct. But before I could get through the bumpy grass section near the start and back onto the gravel road, I'd been joined by the unmarked rider and the Pac Power rider. I let the unmarked rider pass and take the lead down the grass section just passed the gravel. By the time we hit the 180 at the dirt mound he was already tiring and slowing down. He bobbled the turn, and took a wide line. I cut it short, rode it out wide and put in a BIG attack going through the mud hole. I nearly buried the bike in the big rut that had developed in the middle line. I pulled the front wheel through it just enough to keep it upright and went full gas on the way out. The long straight away after that was terrifying. I was right at the limit and I could feel the other riders really close behind. I settled in to the two minute burn knowing that intervals had already prepared me for this. I knew I had it in me to do two minutes at the limit. But did I have enough to sustain the power? I can usually kick away from just about anybody, but stay away- not so much. But I had figured that the trip home was working in my favor. The big straight where I attacked was pretty much the last place to close a big gap w/ speed. I just needed to keep the gap there. If you were going to close past the barriers, in the barns, it would have to be with some pretty seriously bold corner work. And by the sixth lap it was a grease pit. By the end, the section from the pits to the finish was almost entirely about maintenance- just stay upright and pick good lines where you don't have to correct too much.<br /><br />When I hit the last barn I was almost totally gassed. Then I heard Burns yelling something about it being the 'two minutes'...'Go, Juan, go! something, something, two minutes!' I knew exactly what she was talking about, I had been thinking the same thing since the mud hole. I just had to dig in a bit more. When I got clear of the barns I passed my friend Kalin. I muttered a 'hey'- that was all I had. I was really happy to see him. In the midst of all that pain, I was happy to see a friend who was struggling too. Hey yelled at me to 'go' and then started counting seconds until the next rider. Later, he would tell me that I had built about a twenty second lead in the barns. I rolled through the last crazy turn at the finish line. The joy and elation bubbling out in a fist pump and an visceral shout. I'd won. It was like a dream, attacking and rolling in alone. I was so in doubt that it had happened that later I went to the OBRA truck to make sure that it was my name at the top of the list.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE28SWWXiaeJ5hVeDEhkqmn_NIdddNOUU3sokjBFHtdCA5lAfs9BqIySl0ijjo694d5iTFQaTqbUuaNmkgrKOg5jgXbetR81RTB7wFbbpggadHCA-wB8H-M_C9Ba28dBKF83QM/s1600-h/DSC_2342.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE28SWWXiaeJ5hVeDEhkqmn_NIdddNOUU3sokjBFHtdCA5lAfs9BqIySl0ijjo694d5iTFQaTqbUuaNmkgrKOg5jgXbetR81RTB7wFbbpggadHCA-wB8H-M_C9Ba28dBKF83QM/s320/DSC_2342.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397394857094307522" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-75954125390503668462009-10-05T14:39:00.001-07:002009-10-05T16:10:39.594-07:00Alpenrose - Race Report from the Masterb..'s (snicker snicker)For some reason I can never really remember what happens in cross races, unless I get a moment to 'rest' during the aftermath of a crash. So my cross race recollections have precious little detail...<br /><br />It all started with a lousy call up place...Best part of the call up was seeing Hugh two riders over...rad. I looked behind and saw maybe thirty or so riders maybe forty total..and the rest- about 90 in front of me. Combined with the uphill start, I was pretty sure I could kiss a top twenty goodbye. From the whistle I nailed the clip but almost put my foot down because everyone else around me was so damn slow getting going. It was worse than the light at SE Grand and Madison in the morning commute. Once we were up and running, I started taking names. By the time we hit the gravel left-hander at the top of the velodrome, I think I was somewhere around forty..I believe there was a crash just after me sometime, so a separation happened where I was essentially last in line for a while. I caught up to Chris who looked really strong. I got a good outside corner after the bottom of the hill and jammed past Chris and a couple of others who were clogging up the road and Chris yelled 'Go Juan, Go! Go!'- awesome. I managed to keep closing in on the stragglers off the front, while still being passed by some seriously strong riders who I couldn't even catch as they went by. At some point, on the off-camber up to the muddy section past the parking lot someone went down in front of me and I lost contact with what I think was the last of the top 25 or so. As a consequence I feel like I spent the majority of the time passing or being passed, with almost no time with anyone else to pace...Or maybe it was the tunnel vision. From there it was just press on and not get swallowed up by anyone else. Finished 31st.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-91575468528484823302009-09-24T10:35:00.000-07:002009-10-13T11:10:33.843-07:00The Dairy giveth, the Dairy taketh away.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nXK7XKPwpYV1mxnaRxoazg9hlYDD8TCiBk55Mr_E7ZiaZjhKmHnz0SsICEDMjRrbSYLaqi-rROBscf73hUaUntu9M38nv9anCdG2xzGkizzSsXiOB9A_3JV9DR0w_ukF4PiW/s1600-h/cows.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nXK7XKPwpYV1mxnaRxoazg9hlYDD8TCiBk55Mr_E7ZiaZjhKmHnz0SsICEDMjRrbSYLaqi-rROBscf73hUaUntu9M38nv9anCdG2xzGkizzSsXiOB9A_3JV9DR0w_ukF4PiW/s400/cows.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385092416293564962" border="0" /></a><br />I new it was going to hurt. But I did it anyway. I've been worrying about it like you worry about going to the dentist, or when you have to juggle chainsaws. It's bound to hurt and it's bound to leave a mark. And when it's over, you're not sure if it was a good idea to do it in the first place, but you're glad you did it, just the same.<br /><br />Blind Date at the Dairy was just like an actual blind date; horrifying, uncomfortable, awkward. But by the time it was done, my lower back was screaming and my undercarriage felt like I'd been dry-humping a belt sander. Wow, it was just like a blind date.<br /><br />I haven't been riding much in the last three or four weeks. Travel, job, stuff...all getting in the way of carving out time to pedal. You know the story. Besides the weekly torture sessions, I've been basically training for beer drinking. So if there was any victory to be had, it was that I didn't DFL.<br /><br />Suffice it to<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVw4fyOAsgUVEWNTqYiTNpanKkGxeTkwNHtRWyrHjjC-WnSHE-D42e_xgNcFNV4z3SHhgAWuq1k_LgPKRJvtIpgeEZi_iPGsPOTk3NuQ8sT3C3-DrjjiqF06R0MmofC9hShga3/s1600-h/expman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVw4fyOAsgUVEWNTqYiTNpanKkGxeTkwNHtRWyrHjjC-WnSHE-D42e_xgNcFNV4z3SHhgAWuq1k_LgPKRJvtIpgeEZi_iPGsPOTk3NuQ8sT3C3-DrjjiqF06R0MmofC9hShga3/s200/expman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385176601965660818" border="0" /></a> say, it was dry, alternately bumpy and fast with lots of dry grass corners to carve up. The corners were the fun part, the dry, dusty parts - not so much. I started in the second row, managed to hit the clip on the first try, and made the right hand corner with the top ten. That would be the best I did all night. Past the softball field there it was a 180 degree turn to the back side of the grass parking area. On the sixth lap, still in roughly tenth place, I started cramping. On the seventh (of eight) lap, just past the 180, I locked handle bars with a single speeder I was trying to pass. I hit a deep channel and it took my bars hard right- into the SSr's bars. We managed to untangle without too much slow down. On the bell lap, at the same turn, I hit the channel AGAIN and lost hold of the bars with my left hand, only this time I was all alone, and crashed all by myself - hard. I lay there, on my back, in so much pain I was waiting for it be more serious. Someone on the sideline even asked me if I was ok. I got up, got passed by six or seven riders and limped in, 24th.<br /><br />It's going to be a rough season in the b'sCigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-60825243752479347102009-08-31T11:06:00.001-07:002009-08-31T11:17:31.519-07:00Decent into Madness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59TYT-3lbgHb8Gu-j7okk-WR_WbrxlTa5yCwMY-P8NYa5d_chz0TM0eSoSfaz7PRHfhJ_UUwatmtfjO0_iJEW3bI775yt9c7TwIp_PHdhmeGixuC1S6vEot84u_n0QzaukSnI/s1600-h/Untitled-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59TYT-3lbgHb8Gu-j7okk-WR_WbrxlTa5yCwMY-P8NYa5d_chz0TM0eSoSfaz7PRHfhJ_UUwatmtfjO0_iJEW3bI775yt9c7TwIp_PHdhmeGixuC1S6vEot84u_n0QzaukSnI/s400/Untitled-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376193652479683314" border="0" /></a><br />Cross is in the air...you can feel it. Aside from some conversations about Eugene on the team ride, its all about cyclocross. The road season is over, and while I'm both happy and sad about that, the prospect of riding in the rain, mud and sleet of cross season fills me with dread....and joy. That's whats weird about cross. We did intervals last week, the standard weekly suffer fest...the session was all cross focused. It felt like cyclocross- sprint hard, timetrial, sprint hard, rest short, repeat, repeat, repeat..until barf. Why is that fun? Add miserable weather, mud, muddy grass, and lots of water, then it becomes fun? I'm still not sure how this all works out on the balance sheet of fun to suffer. Because when I look at it on its face, it looks to be about 80 percent suffer, 20 percent fun. Not usually a recipe for "a good time." But so it is. Try and explain it to a friend who doesn't do it. You'll see (but if you do cross and road, you probably don't have any friends who don't).<br /><br />I spent three hours working on my cross bike yesterday, my hands still hurt. I converted to tubeless- we'll see how that goes. I need to do some testing. But getting those damn tires on after sealing the rim was a pain in the arse. Worst part is that I still have plenty to do. Deraileur hanger is bent, chain is too short, head tube is too long, and my breaks sorta suck. But other than that, good to go.<br /><br />So is there any wisdom to this, about this, from this adventure into madness? I'm not sure. Is it the pointless, slipping, sliding, silliness held in juxtaposition to the road season that makes it important? I try to stay loose during the road season, not take it too seriously, even though I invest a fair amount of energy, effort and suffering in getting better at it- but its still a pressure cooker in some way- lots of frowning determination during the road season. Whereas cross there is far less long mile rumination and expectation built in- at least for me. Short hard efforts, lots of factors beyond one's control, the simply fact that its a silly sport, all contribute to the carnival. Mix in some beer and its shirt-up, pants-down stupid. I hope it stays that way.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-70560211690007236472009-07-22T07:51:00.001-07:002009-07-22T07:58:01.991-07:00DiLuca- DoperAnyone who doubted whether DiLuca was clean or not....<a href="http://www.cyclingnews.com/news/di-luca-positive-for-cera-in-giro">read up</a><div><br /></div><div>That stupid SOB - its been clear for a while that he was riding outside his ability. His performance at the Giro was confirmation in my mind that he was on the juice. I think the days of totally heroic performances maybe gone...and I think thats good. As amazing as these professionals are, they are still human, still have limits and still have to face when they cannot compete, cannot deliver, and cannot win. These are the weaknesses that make them interesting and compelling...not total dominance, and infallibility. When we watched Ivan Basso climb away from the competition in the Giro just prior to the Operacion Puerto bust, my heart sank. I knew then that he was juiced. I knew at that moment that someone I found compelling and likable was infected, like so many other riders. Watching DiLuca do the same thing this year was just another example. I hope there is some learning going on in the peloton</div>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-57465366393106366432009-07-16T16:38:00.000-07:002009-07-16T17:04:53.432-07:00Gettin' a little love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTKHsOCLIPwdkvUXEPZW8noEP6m_BWauxo4gmq2LxC4TuxLEIdqGFxxqTwnsCZ_I_PjgX9WHcrWhIh2vsfMpwjQbNMrmwYNJnrxpfRvy3FWdIJcxu-ic-d5B1zFqUn8uSpe_Mx/s1600-h/IMG_0013_sm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTKHsOCLIPwdkvUXEPZW8noEP6m_BWauxo4gmq2LxC4TuxLEIdqGFxxqTwnsCZ_I_PjgX9WHcrWhIh2vsfMpwjQbNMrmwYNJnrxpfRvy3FWdIJcxu-ic-d5B1zFqUn8uSpe_Mx/s320/IMG_0013_sm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359212940650645378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />So last weekend, I got a little love sort of mysteriously flow my way through the interwebs. As an industrial designer, I 'maintain' an online portfolio on a industrial design site called <a href="http://www.coroflot.com/">Coroflot</a>. They featured a design of mine in 'featured designers' which is a rotating set of images that last a few days and then gets a new set of designers to feature. Other designers see the featured work and can 'likey' it, adding it to their personal set of designers/art/design that they like. Well, I guess my design broke a 'likey' record and got noticed by the Core folks- and an <a href="http://www.coroflot.com/creativeseeds/2009/07/likey_comes_into_its_own.asp">article </a>was written. While the article is not 'about' me, it does mention me. Which in my little world is like having an article written about me. Sweet.<br /><br />It was a good weekend all around. I also recieved a patent letter in the mail on Saturday. So now, officially, there is a US patent with my name on it. First one. Several more in the works.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-75940926226695592852009-07-15T20:46:00.000-07:002009-07-15T21:42:48.498-07:00A True Champion<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHUCQcsBYnkcHgF3uqPDpav5FY4dYsqugzFBwzp1KlscCkfHsmWLuFs0L347aEbyVozJtb-abuDWNdP4yGt8Qz072QyV4klFuu3rMIW6RQtYDK87sq7e9-adRGNsCMBcjLHW-/s1600-h/3f7e3a56.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHUCQcsBYnkcHgF3uqPDpav5FY4dYsqugzFBwzp1KlscCkfHsmWLuFs0L347aEbyVozJtb-abuDWNdP4yGt8Qz072QyV4klFuu3rMIW6RQtYDK87sq7e9-adRGNsCMBcjLHW-/s320/3f7e3a56.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358907244431695922" border="0" /></a>Back in 1984 I had one cycling hero.. maybe the last hero I had, and that was Bernard Hinault. Here in the states, he got a rap for being the guy who betrayed Opie, I mean Greg Lemond, during the '86 tour. As far as I'm concerned it was Greg who betrayed himself with his naivete and lack of acumen in discerning the nature of the relationship.<br /><br /><br /><br />Hinault is a champion. From his youth he was a champion. You cannot take a champion like him to the vet and nueter him. He will be a pitbull no <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVP82IVC5QDabI07xC7ORz5QiF2VE6KOqNxfxWj_QBd64_tmHOC0a2VyQ7oa89GO14bJDpe__gxTDQiIhiX3AbD3cL0mcQ_4TjUk8VfO8IXepI2Z6ZGmvB1jbpX-Z2j2-ksYzn/s1600-h/luil_bast_luik_1980_25301b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVP82IVC5QDabI07xC7ORz5QiF2VE6KOqNxfxWj_QBd64_tmHOC0a2VyQ7oa89GO14bJDpe__gxTDQiIhiX3AbD3cL0mcQ_4TjUk8VfO8IXepI2Z6ZGmvB1jbpX-Z2j2-ksYzn/s320/luil_bast_luik_1980_25301b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358907535700386674" border="0" /></a>matter what. His allegence is to himself, to cycling, even to the attack itself. To pure blood of the kill. Look at the way he raced. He charged the towers when he raced. Screaming at the parapets. He lunged for the jugular when the jugular was just out of reach, daring his competitors to walk the line with him. Flame out or quench his thirst with the blood of glory. A cyclist. A hero in the greekest sense.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhri6dmbFiRIf1e9RnT8MLV8vyGlfA8blXXglGvZxrJF4J9oe8arxxonUE04uyKLzDUHk4LCcbzJFwUNFN27usqDEikiIysxfL32-niGLl62MaWkKKqvP36VmDkLFOM7A-bMVJ1/s1600-h/RdV_Hinault_1981.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhri6dmbFiRIf1e9RnT8MLV8vyGlfA8blXXglGvZxrJF4J9oe8arxxonUE04uyKLzDUHk4LCcbzJFwUNFN27usqDEikiIysxfL32-niGLl62MaWkKKqvP36VmDkLFOM7A-bMVJ1/s320/RdV_Hinault_1981.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358907635507453618" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Since the 'Armstrong era' began I've had this feeling that something about cycling had changed since I'd left it. The brash, confident and reckless attacks of the likes of Sean Kelly or Bernard Hinault were missing in my mind. The calculated, controlled and overbearing control of the race that Postal, or Discovery exerted stifled the race, stifled the spirit of cycling. Proof that control will win races, the directors began plotting conservative strategies on race control and dominance. The individual personalities, the passion and suffering of the individual was placed in <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2U5Djtgfic4khaCfP8ta6gNbggPX3n6NjrY5Ge_UlDSTt3cIj4-vjXMb6TPopCgTPMdb-nkXvGX0hUUehZwCTUbUxM-GmIF9cnxZXxumy8MWCox2lBdliiDy0X08trmCqFT7/s1600-h/Hinault3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2U5Djtgfic4khaCfP8ta6gNbggPX3n6NjrY5Ge_UlDSTt3cIj4-vjXMb6TPopCgTPMdb-nkXvGX0hUUehZwCTUbUxM-GmIF9cnxZXxumy8MWCox2lBdliiDy0X08trmCqFT7/s320/Hinault3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358907446751716786" border="0" /></a>service to this control. Where was the brash attack? The suicide break? 'killing is not enough, you must win the fight' keeps running through my head. Hinault always rode without fear- Fear of others, or his own limitations. He flew from the pack when it served his interest, his desire, his intention. He did not fear his director, his teammates, the peloton, the fans, or even his sponsors. He road for himself. In <a href="http://tour-de-france.velonews.com/article/95199/hinault--only-way-to-beat-astana-is-attack-">his interview posted this evening on VeloNews crystallizes all of this.</a>Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33722516.post-29720553627559966692009-07-13T10:05:00.000-07:002009-07-13T10:28:11.306-07:00Our sacred cowsI find this <a href="http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2009/writers/the_bonus/07/07/tour/index.html">article </a>interesting- and a little annoying. I don't know the author so I don't know how much to trust him, and he plays fast and loose with some of it. But overall, provocative. It's a long read, but a good one. It does touch on the issue of heroes in American culture, whether we're talking Jesus, or Baseball. We are likely to look beyond faults or contradictions in an effort to preserve our icons as infallible and without contradiction. We tell stories about George Washington, John McCain, and whoever else, as heroes. Self sacrificing, Gawd and country before self and others..its a lie. It's a myth. We are weaker for these myths, not stronger.Cigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14189785271635147294noreply@blogger.com0