This is what tracks should look like.

The westfalenhalle. Dortmund, Germany.

Three Words

new-team-van

partyphotobloggin'

This is half of the rock band IndoChina with accompaniment from an orangutan in a sweater.

This is why your parents didn't want you to drink alcohol when you were young. Because you might get naked with nothing but a speedo and a singlespeed champions belt covering your pale, malnourished body in front of a bunch of co-workers you don't know. And that would kick ass.

Ping pong looks a little uncomfortable on the guitar with a naked monkey behind him...

DT

Humungus for Governor

If I lived in California, I would give him my vote.

http://www.inch.com/~william/humungus.html

DT

the finally finished with finals post

Been a long time coming, but it's done for another term. That was a rough one.
Pretty sure I'm ready to be done now.
Yep, pretty sure.
Too bad I'll never be done. I'll be done with this degree pretty soon, but then it's on to the bachelors (after a nice break), and then maybe a masters if I'm not dead before I get my B.S.

Updates: Mr. TooVanilla Burrito Cozy Shack Cats Pomegranates Skerrit scored a second at the Masters Natz cross race yesterday.Pro race finished 30 seconds ago. Trebon pulled off the big V to become a double national champ. XC and CX. Nice.

Updates: Scored 4 free tickets to see the Faint and Ratatat a couple of weeks ago. That rocked my socks off.

Updates: I'm considering making my own christmas presents this year. Maybe newspaper hats or ceramic ash trays or something. I can't hold money long enough to buy gifts with it. It all finds its way into my stomach somehow. Here's a sample of my food intake one day last week after lifting, riding and schooling: 1 turkey sandwich, 3 cups of coffee, 1 whole roasted chicken, 1 peanut butter and jelly sandwich, half of a large pepperoni pizza, half gallon of milk and 6 or so cookies. and a partridge in a pear tree.

Updates: Can't go to Burnaby due to overlapping EMT certification tests... drag.

Updates: My new phone is smaller than yours.

Updates: The BG holiday party is tommorow. Free food...mmm.. scavengertron ACTIVATE.

Photobloggin (now with 80% less racing)

Slater and Tall Mike at the USGP Portland. Crossin. Cross Dressin. Drankin.









Hot Tubbin at the run-up.





















New team car. Big enough for 3 climbers and the team cat.













Man?
Woman?
Weako?
Neanderthal?
Orangutan in a woman's sweater?









Winter. It's cold out there.

the dude abides...

Indoor tracks are why I need to make a lot of money. I could see myself driving the 6 hours each way to train and race pretty frequently in the rainy months if I had the cash. Rumor has it some people are getting serious about building a top-class indoor velodrome in Portland. That would kick ass and I'd do what I could to help make it happen, but for now all we've got is 6 hours to Burnaby or 15 hours to LA.

So to Burnaby we went.

All I've done since Nationals is lift weights and ride to school, so that first 200 was a bit of a shock. Enough of a shock to send me crouching over the toilets for a few minutes. Apparently Gatorade does not change color after being in your stomach for a while.

For those of you that have never been up to the most densely populated frozen tundra in southwestern Canada, the track in Burnaby's pretty sweet. Sweet because it's not outside (it's in a giant balloon), it's made of two different kinds of wood (pine and plywood (and duct tape)), and it's short, sketchy and kinda slippery. This is what I look like on it.



Did you know that I'm fast enough to wear white gloves? I couldn't pull off the white gloves at a cross race (like some real fast people) but fortunately sprints and kierins are much shorter than cross races. Fewer chances live up to my slowness potential.

I lost pretty consistently to the Canadians, but all in all I had a good time. Those guys are great fun to race with, they're not afraid to chuck out the elbows, and they almost usually keep thier clothes on most of the time. Rumor has it the January SixDay they're hosting is going to have madisons, sprints, messenger races (or "courier races" as they say in French Canadian), a beer garden, a petting zoo and a ferris wheel. Be there.

Quote of the weekend from Keith Bruneau, "I'm almost a whole you older than you..."

The Basil Wars

Ever played football? Think you're good in large crowds? Like kicking double-wide strollers? If yes then come on down, come one, come all to the Portland Farmer's Market. I like the FM, but I hate all the other people who like it too. Maybe not all of them, but at least the ones who get in my way. Which is most of them.

So the rain is back, school's in full swing and track season is over. Time to skip the border to our Northern brothers and head to the Big White Worm, Burnaby Velodrome. Nothing says "off season" like more racing and a 200m duct-taped half-plywood half-board track inside a giant balloon. Someone should put that on a greeting card.
November 11th and 12th. Be there or be lame. yeah.

I think my dad has the brain fever. Or maybe the black lung. Not sure. Bummer either way. He missed a great time at the last cross race which included watching everyone fall, every lap in the same corner, the Solomonster demolishing the single speeds in a single speedo (and falling in the tricky corner), a couple of legitimately nasty and unfortunate crashes, dousing Walrod with beer during the A race (3 times), feeding Walrod beer during the A race, and competely psychologically cracking Walrod by handing him an empty beer bottle during the A race (oh the dissapointment).

See you next week at Flying M, and you better be wearing a costume.

DT

tired

So Nationals if over. Again. If I never had to go back to LA ever ever again, I'd be psyched. The place is a landfill. The track is cool, the surroundings are not so cool.

Speaking of Nationals, the kilo was awful. It was probably the worst one ever. Ever. Each time I do a kilo, it's always the worst one ever. However, I think this one actually was the worst, because I went considerably slower than last year. That's the story of the kilo.
Still ended up 3rd in the U23 class. Probably helps that no one wants to do the kilo anymore, now that it's not an Olympic event, and because it sucks.

Sprints were fun, but not as good as I hoped. I gambled wrong on a smallish gear and rode an 11.3 instead of... faster than an 11.3. Which is what I wanted. THE ULTIMATE 200M DESIRE EQUATION: D=T*.97 where D= the time you want and T= the time you get. Got through my first round without too much trouble, then had to race Adam Duvendeck, the top qualifier. That was trouble. Tried to jump him early and disrupt as much as I could, but that guy's too smart and too fast. All I heard as I was chasing after him through the final corner was Jame Carney screaming "GO LUKE PERRY!!"

Beat Lakatosh in the reps, which felt good, but it was for second. Plus I'm pretty sure he sat up. Baby steps i suppose

Duvendeck fought the power with Giddeon Massie for the gold and went down swingin. Big G wasn't taking home another second place, he brought forth the fury and grabbed the big V.

Endurance stuff was ruled by Tiaa Cref, predictably enough. The big upset was Dave McCook winning the scratch race out of a bunch sprint after Jame chased every single Blue Man Group down. That guy rode like ten men. Ten very small, angry men.

Props to Mikkel and Steveo for both riding a solid scratch.

Sounds funny. Solid scratch.

Most importantly, mega-props to my parents, who made the whole trip happen with major financial support, 30-some hours of driving and lots of moral support. They really believe in me (for some reason) and that helps tremendously when there's no big dollar pro deal anywhere on the horizon, just more medals from different places, and maybe a free bike or two...


DT

results

4th in the 250. (3rd U23) Time standard was 18.69, I rode 19.12. Not too happy with the time, but I'll take the result.

Sometimes I don't understand how these events work. Not sure if they're organized or improvised. For instance: the 250 is intended to be a qualifier for the national team. If you can beat the time standard, you're in. If not, too bad. It was specifically described as a talent pool qualifier and NOT a championship event.

As we're warming up, the announcer says that the 250 is in fact a championship event as of riiiight NOW. How does that work? How can you have an event that is NOT a championship event when people have a chance to register for it, then as the first guy is rolling up to the line and registration is closed, THEN you announce there's a jersey on the line? Whaa? So if a jersey's on the line, is there a U23 jersey as well? "oh, well no." Why not? "Um, I dont know, ask that guy over there" So why not, guy over there? "oh um, well, you see... LOOK A UNICORN!" *guy runs away*

8th in the kierin. sketchy and faaast. mega fast. so fast it deserves 3 a's and no capitalization. Couple of wierd calls too. McLaughry was relegated for a hook that I had no complaints about, but another dude was just warned for punting Zac off his bike.

Kierin awards are right after 250 awards, so I stand around to watch and hear another official try to explain to the top place U23 rider why there are no U23 jerseys for the kierin. "Oh, it's because we only do espoir awards for the timed events." That's odd. There was no award for the timed 250, yet there was a jersey for the first espoir in the scratch race (mikkel bosson got that one by the way... way to go buddy). You know, the non-timed mass-start definitely not time-trial scratch race.

I guess sometimes you just have be on the right side of the coin toss.

Kilo is tonight.

Welcome To Purgatory, Population 10 Million

We've arrived in L.A. Sunday night after 16 hours of driving, one muddy rain storm, a packet of jerky, 2 cokes, 4 tanks of gas, a bag of trail mix and a half gallon of water. Poor Abers took a break Sunday night in Sacramento (5 hours from LA), only to get stuck behind 4 accidents the next morning. Took him 11 hours to make the final leg of the trip. Bummer.

In 2 days I've been nearly hit 3 times driving around this southern California wasteland. Our hotel is a little over a mile from the track, but I won't ride to it. No way. Not going outside with those automotive idiots out there. Too many small people in big Hummers slurping frappucinos, talking on cell phones and powering down In 'n Out burgers while flying along at 80 miles an hour on side streets. Last year our hotel was a similar distance from the track, and Norrene still managed to get smacked by a station wagon on her ride to the velodrome.

Drove to the track yesterday to reaquaint myself with the ADT wood bowl. That track's pretty cool. Very wierd rolling up on a track that's steeper than Alpenrose and three times slicker. Those boards are crazy smooth, but not grippy.

Still feeling the affects of a lingering head-cold, but I have the technology. I have the medication. I have an up to date banned substances list and I'm taking just about everything that's not on it. Couldn't find "intravenous injectin of Cozy Shack," so I'm safe. Gotta clear myself out by tommorow morning at 7. Go time.

Good Luck at Nationals, Me

I dedicate this video to myself. Hopefully I'll come back from LA in one piece and with all my teeth this time. Go me.


Get this video and more at MySpace.com

holy crap

Word on the street is that McMuscles threw down a 10.68 at the Springs and Massie did a 10.2something. Alfred is MIA.

Nationals in C-Springs next year would rule. That track is mega-fast. Funny that an outdoor concrete track is faster than our indoor board track... I guess altitude and a perfect 333 makes up for a lot.

Awesome.

DT

The Blue-Man Bruiser

Check out the dude it the blue. He pulls an extreme move I'm calling the "hurricane Katrina."

stunning

So I was riding home the other day, ripping down Sandy on the fixie, and I start to catch up to this other dude, also riding home on a fixie. I'd mention at this point that it's broad daylight. We're going at a pretty good clip, I'm probably 20 feet behind him, we roll up to this intersection, the light's green (very green) and a black car rolls out in front of us, crossing Sandy against his red light. Adrenaline spikes and it looks for sure like this guy is going to ride straight through the car's passenger window, until he pulls the most amazing brakeless powerslide right-turn onto the cross street.

Black car stops (while still on Sandy) right in front of me. So I pull a sweet sliding stop and we both wait as the tinted window rolls down.

So this dude's going to apologize right? You know, cause that's what you do when you almost maim or kill 2 people by not just blowing, but blatantly rolling through a stop light. Right?

This guy starts yelling at us. For being reckless. Because we're riding on the street and not the sidewalk. And not paying attention. Really, man? Are you serious?

It bummed me almost all the way home, until I rolled by Doug Fir and saw the 40 bikes parked out front. Rode by Shanghai and Berbati's and saw the 40 bikes parked out there, the pile of bikes outside of Dante's and the mega-pile of commuter bikes chained up outside Powells. That just made me think that the idiots can't win. We outnumber them (at least in my small corner of the world). And we look better in shorts.

DT

The New Giver Stick

Say it with me now. Off the sick-ter scale.

The Edge

I bet something happened in the Vuelta today. Not sure what, because I haven't been paying attention, but I can guess. Today it was hot. Really hot. It's hot in Spain this time of year, and today was no exception. It was also hilly, because Spain is also not flat. Some guy would have attacked out of the parking lot, because I hear the Spanish are into siestas, and they would have wanted to get things over with by 3ish or so. Another guy played it smart and did not attack out of the parking lot, he attacked later in the race and won. He's probably not the guy you expected to win either, but he's got heart, and maybe something a little extra in the bottles...

I got the competetive edge this morning by staying at Stumptown for an extra cup of coffee before I hit the track. I hear hydration's important, and coffee's mostly water.

Couple hours of efforts later and I'm ready for a nap, just in time to rush to work. Sounds like coffee time.

Photobloggin'

Andy Smalls. Rennaissance Man.


Ramming speed in Raetehi, NZ


Staredown Championships '06.


New team van. Just needs a black paint job.


Breakfast of champions

DT

Coffee Time

As summer winds down, life at the bike shop gets wierd. Managers get tense as profits fall, staff gets restless as the shop stays empty regardless of the sunny weather. Most of the people who make it through the doors these days are either "just looking" or in for a tube and some energy gels. Neko Case is singing about stars again. Clouds are hanging around too long in the morning. Solomon thinks Summer is dying. I need to get to the beach this summer before it's dead.

Watched some poor woman case it on her motorcycle in front of the shop yesterday. Big, bright red jeep is stopped at a light, she's not paying too much attention, careens toward the jeep and turns to see it, smacks on the brakes at the last minute (which sends her right hand off the bar), she executes a frantic rodeo impression for a split second and finally gets bucked to the ground. Fortunately this all happens at about 20 mph, so she doesn't look too bad, but is a living example of why you shouldn't ride your motorcycle in a t-shirt, velour sweatpants, Teva sandals and no gloves... Fire is on scene immediately and has her on a long backboard before you can say "where's AMR?" Ambulance arrives a solid 20 minutes later. A good natured homeless guy tries to direct traffic on Sandy around the giant Portland Fire rig, but the police shoo him away at his most glorious citizen-in-charge moment.

Dick Speers' back in the mother country and Tuckerman's headed back on Saturday, so we had a little send-off last night. All was good untill he found my phone and began calling everyone in alphabetical order. Including my Dad. At 1 in the morning. Lucky for Tuckerman he didn't pick up.

Not a single person has walked into the shop in the last 2 hours and 13 minutes. I wonder what Ping-Pong's doing right now?

DT

Ruckus

So that friday night crit was pretty intense. There's a series of pretty sketch corners in that course (actually the whole thing is all sketch corners), so Dave and I set up at a place where we could see the two sketch-est. The first was a downhill 90degree super-rough peice of road, the second was an uphill-but-sharper-than-it-looks little beauty.
So the gun goes off, the Yamaha R1 lead bike rolls through and the first thing I see is Tuckerman completely sideways throught that first downhill left, layed out corning on pure luck and some pretty good tires. He miraculoudly survives and charges up the hill so hard he passes the lead motor on the inside in our second corner. I didn't see the final one before the straight, but I'm told the motor came back around him and Tuckie passed him one more time on the inside through the last corner. Good stuff. After that, I saw a lot of orange guys in the hurt box for the rest of the night. Made me not sad to be sitting in the beergarden. Other highlight of the evening was watching Mark Blackwelder fly ass-first into the downhill corner, blow up his rear wheel on the curb, do a header into the art museum, get up like nothing happened and sprint up the hill with his bike (in his road shoes... full sprint) to the pit. I'm not gonna lie. I was impressed.

Let me say this one first: I love the state crit in Gresham. Fun, wierd course, yet easy enough that I can still do something. I don't tend do so well on "challenging" or "hard" courses. I get tired. I like flat, and the state crit is very flat.
The sun was out, birds were chirping, all the guys were all on board with the plan to keep everything together, the bike was shining and I was feeling pretty good. The first 57 minutes went exactly as planned. If anyone went away, Richard, Kirk, Logan, Aaron or Steven was either sitting on the back of them, or chasing like a banshee. I hung out in the top quarter all day. Supervising. It was kick ass. THEN. The last 15 laps started to get a bit hectic. The pace started heating up, people started getting nervous and I found Shannon's wheel and stuck to it like glue. I figured it was a good place to be, but so did everyone else. Had to pull some serious eyes-closed elbows-out ninja moves to stay behind those chiseled calves. Faster and faster we went, Mr. Vanilla and I made our way through the field to about 10th with 5 to go, meanwhile Mikkel and his Dr. Seuss cronies went to the front. Coming around the final corner with three to go, we were hauling ass. The front group had pretty well worked itself out, we were going too fast and taking up the whole road, so those in the back didn't have much chance to safely sneak around by this point. Anyway. Going into this corner, I'm planted pretty well, Mr. V and I are on the inside line and I see some genius in blue and white go flying up next to the sidewalk on the inside at mach 10 trying to make up 50 places in one corner. Most bike racers know that you can't go inside on a corner at that speed without ending up on your face (something you usually figure very early on), but this guy didn't, and not surprisingly, he ended up on his face. Unfortunately, he decked himself maybe 2 people in front of Shannon, who executed a perfect forward double-axle front flip that should have landed him gold at the X-Games. I avoided everything by pure luck, including Mr. Skerrit's rear wheel, which was inches from taking my head off. Meanwhile the front group rolls away up the straight...
I ended doing the mad sprint to get back to the group, then not doing a very mad sprint to win. Ended up seventh, but with all of my skin intact.

DT

rockin the park blocks

According to WillyWeek readers, the BG is cooler than iced coffee. Once again, we've been voted Best Bike Shop in WW's yearly Best Of issue. Boo-ya.

Another big winner was Molly, who won the award for Best Transgender, All-Vegan Bike Shop Owner. Big ups.

I singlehandedly won the award for Best Commuter Racer this morning when I beat the 14 bus up Sandy through traffic all the way from 12th to 53rd. On a fixie. Uphill. Big ups to me.

Pretty sure I'm gonna win the Best Beer Garden Heckler award at the Portland Crit this Friday (as long as Tuckerman's racing). If you think you can challenge, or maybe just want to watch a master at work (by master I mean me), while watching some dorks ride around the Park Blocks, come on down to the Art Museum around 6. We'll rock out.

On a more cinematic note, if you haven't seen An Inconvenient Truth yet, you should. Seems that Al Gore has kept himself pretty busy since the 2000 election debacle. If you are trapped in your house or have no access to a movie theater you could also check out thier website, which is pretty hot, in a fact-ey kinda way.

Did you know they serve Tots at the Side Street watering hole? Discovered that little jem at Solomon's retirement party. Tater Tots. I know. Awesome.

I missed PIR this week, which made me sad. I'll get to do the State Crit Champs this year for the first time in 3 or 4 years, which will make up for it. Till then, I'm praying for a field sprint again... Just have to figure out how to fill Skerrit's tires with cement.

DT

Sometimes You Win, Soemtimes You Lose

What a weekend. So we went down to Tijuana, you know to see one of these shows... and.. wait... wait... Seattle?
Right.

So we went up to Seattle hoping for a big track race, and pretty much what we got was a local Friday night training race with a bunch of Portlanders and Canadians. (Two of the finest species of track racers in all of creation). Seriously. They had pretty decent money, but what's the point if you're going to run a 26 person Keirin tourney with one round to the finals and no reps? Especially when the Masters get a couple rounds including reps. What? How does that work? Either way, it wasn't super successful on the racing end. Didn't make it to the finals in the keirin, Lost to Zac in the semis of the sprints and ended up 5th, screwed the pooch in the team sprint and dropped steveo off about 10 mph slower than we started, then ended up somewhere around 8th in the miss and out. Made enough money to cover my gas, food and beer garden tab, so I guess you can't complain much about that.

Beer garden. The yardstick of civilization. Fat Tire showed up with kegs and kegs, setting up shop in a fenced off portion of the grandstands to everyone's delight. Spectators enjoyed it and sprinters loved it. I finished my racing around 8 or so, but endurance events were scheduled until about 11. What is one to do? The Canadians were clearly having a great time, so I joined them instead of sitting in the infield pouting. I successfully held on to my 2006 Points Race Heckling Championship jersey despite Matt Chater's amazing display of Vanilla Ice manuevers and a pretty aweome running man. I guess the Fat Tire people were pretty happy with the fact that we cleared a couple hundred bucks worth of beer in two hours, so they gifted us with sweet FT pint glasses. Full of beer. With extra beer on the side. Good times.

Vancouver Crit the next day went pretty well, all things considered. Mr. TooVanilla himself turned up in full double white Nike wristband splendor. I'm not gonna lie. That guy's not slow. Team Evan Elken showed up to put the hurt on everyone. I was there mostly to look great. Big group took off super early which included the Great White Vanilla, Team Evan, Da Conda Curry, the eldest Bosson, Kirk, Aaron Negative Tuckerman and a few others. Aparently Richard and I were elected Group Police, and spent the rest of the day chasing would-be breaks. After the group got thier lap, things were looking good until the bell rang for a 50 dollar prime. Da Conda was huffing and puffing a little ways off the front and Shannon was feeling ambitious, so he summoned the power of the donkey and lit it with a half lap to go. Unfortunately he was riding a Trek, so he didn't quite get Curry, and I burned my one final match by completely unnessesarily dragging the group back up to Mr. Skerrit (who was probably about to sit up anyway).

Kirk ended up second behind Team Elken, and was awarded a giant blow-up fake bottle of Wild Turkey, which I promptly destroyed.

Miami Vice anyone? Talladega Nights on Friday? Beerfest The Movie coming soon? Awesome. AWE. some.

DT

floyd schmoyd

Nevermind. Floyd's not the man.

Probably not anyway. I guess time and the B sample will tell, but a bit odd that he would get popped on the day of his inhuman victory in the Alps, eh?

DT

boo-yah

It's about a million degrees outside on Sunday, so instead of spending my day off in the AC slurping on some chilled frappa-latte thing, I spent it at the track (naturally). State champs for the Sprints and Keirin means go time.

I've been doing 200s in a pretty small gear so far this year, so hey, it's the end of July and time to put the big boy gear on. So on it goes and up on the track I go and it feels pretty fast until I get into corner 4 where it feels REALLY fast and suddenly I have this wierd sensation that I'm about to drag my elbow on the apron, do the bike throw at the line and I beat my PR for this season by 4 tenths. Sweet. 11.61. As far as I'm concerned, I can go home now, my weekend is complete. I'm psyched.

Sprint rounds follow, Beardsley tries to kilo me and I have to pull something out of my toes to get him by the line, then I do the one thing I knew I shouldn't do when racing Zac Copeland (I let him lead it out). Hence I lose with my tail between my legs, race Eugene for third and get it, and it's on to the keirin.

The Keirin final is pretty stacked. Tim Luther, Zac, McMuscles, Casey Deck, Eugene and myself. BANG the gun goes off, I grab the motor (which is actually Mikkel on his track bike, as our decrepid Moto Guzzi has died for the 50th time this year), Mikkel winds it up to real keirin pace (which is about 10mph faster than the motor could ever go), he drops us off, I pick it up a bit and as I look back with 2 to go I see a tim/zac/mcmuscles team sprint starting to wind up on the blue band. Que? No way. Tim flies by me and pulls up to let Zac and McMuscles go through with a lap and a half to go, but I do the big jump, squeeze between Zac and Stephen, and chaos ensues. There's yelling and squealing of tires, I black out untill I'm coming around Zac in the last corner and he's pulling a sweet drift on me all the way past the blue line, but I stay on the gas, get a sweet dive off the bank, kiss everyone goodbye and sail home to a bike length's win.

Casey Deck fought the power and squeezed through the mess behind Zac and I battling up the bank and made a huge push for what he thought was second, but the camera thought was third.

All in all, boo-yah. My first Senior elite championship. On to FSA and LA.

DT

floydmania

I said it a few months ago and I'll say it again, Flyod's the man.

Photo of the day is from Cyclingnews, Mark Gunter, and Kui Song picking the worst possible place to go down.



Miraculously this guy is not hurt that bad. Check out the series of photos here.

DT

The Exploder

While discussing very important (and relevant) business issues today at our mutual place of employment, Solomon and I decided that the best name for anything is The Exploder. Seriously.

Just kidding. But seriously. A tire called The Exploder? Awesome. An intimate undergarment called The Exploder? Priceless. What if you had a candy called Exploders? Can you imagine what that stuff would do to you?

Quote of the day (once again, courtesy of the red-headed stepchild): "we should have a wrench-fight."

Honestly I think that I could take Solomon in a wrench-fight, but how does that pop into someone's head at 4:32 on a Wednesday at work at the bike shop?
Also. What if you could spend an entire day totally invincible and impervious to pain for one day? Tall building parachuteless base-jumping. Real Frogger. Wrench-fight in the setting sun.

Skeleton on wheels.

Most Awesome Thing Ever

Yesterday was a pretty average day at the shop. Couple of hybrids, couple of kids bikes, then BAM. Two of the sweetest bikes ever fall right into my lap. First was the Alma. I'm not a big mountain biker, but this thing's hot. Orbea Alma 29er. Full carbon frame, X-lite wheels, carbon post, carbon bars, carbon brake levers, carbon cranks. 24 lbs for a medium 29er. Crazy. The other 29ers we've had in here are 28 lbs minimum. Not so sure about the integrated "fender" on the downtube, but the shaping overall is pretty hot.



THEN. The most amazing bike ever rolled right through the front door. Remember in Napoleon Dynamite when Pedro gets the new bike? The one with the shocks? And the pegs? The one he catches sweet air on? The Sledghammer? Yeah. That's right. I saw a Huffy Sledgehammer. It had the exact same paintjob that the one in the movie did (black with NEON ORANGE SHOCKS). It was magical. I prayed the guy would buy a new bike and leave the Sledgehammer with us so I could shine 'er up and it could be my ultimate hipster bar bike. How amazing would that be? Everyone thinking they're all cool pulling up to stumpown on thier classic track bikes and I rock up on the sledgehammer? Who wants a roundhouse kick to the head when I'm riding this bad boy? Fuhgettaboutit.

Made my week.

You know what else is hot? Double toe straps on your track bike. I converted. Finally. Shoulda done it sooner. Seems like it really improves that over-the-top dead-spot in the pedal stroke. Overall, it does not suck. However, it does suck when your TEAMMATE right turns in front of you in the first half-lap of a sprint at 10 miles an hour and you topple over because you can't get out of them. But when you get back up and drag race it to the line and win without even flexing your left butt-cheek, they're worth it.

Seriously though, it wasn't that easy, but I was happy to finally win something. This season's been a bit average so far, and I finally felt like I could match Zac and McMuscles. Speaking of the big black sharkish guy himself, big props to McMuscles who pulled the only move I did not expect. Dude took off like a rocket out of the blocks, caught me sleeping and with a bigger last lap could've probably taken it. Fotunately for me I got on level terms with 2 to go, held the gap and with a half to go I was ready to do the big jump when he sat up and started chuckling. Good show. Luther's getting wicked fast, that guy's jump gets bigger every week. Awesome.

Anyway. Back to work. Back to the gym. Back on the bike. Back to something constructive.

AVC (and the armed maniac somewhere outside)

AVC went as well as could be expected. I had very little speed so that left me with only my good looks and recklessness to keep me alive. I skipped embarrassment in the form of the kilo and started the weekend by qualifying 6th in the 200 with a 12.01. Not quite what I wanted but not last either. As I looked at the times I thought to myself "hey, at least since I didn't get last, that means I don't have to race Stephen Alfred in the first round!" Somehow I thought wrong. Alfred's a great guy, but he's one of the more demoralizing sprinters out there. The guy is a robot. He never changes expression on the bike, never looks like he's in trouble, always looks like he's about to eat you. Anyway. I went for it (early... way early) and didn't make it. The rest of the sprints were pretty average. I made a couple pretty sweet moves, but they only got me into 6th by the end of the day.

The Kierin... now that was fun. I love kierins... I think my new bike loves kierins too. Big thanks to Justin and everyone at Orbea for making sure my new track rig turned out exactly the way I wanted it. When I tell it to turn it's already turning, when I want it to go I have to hang on and pray. Good stuff when you're shooting a gap in the last corner underneath and between 4 guys that all outweigh you by a few pounds. I think I almost made my mom pass out a few times while she tried to watch the rounds.

Here's a sweet picture from the Oregonian. Me trying (unsucessfully) to dive under Alfred. Notice how Alfred's bicep is bigger than most of my body. He's big. And fast. And scary.


In other news, I saw about 20 cops scream by the shop while I was writing this, so I cruised down the block to take a gander. A pleasant blue-shirted guy with a big gun informed me that an "armed individual" is roaming around, but not to worry, they have about 20 square blocks posted with a car at every corner, so he won't get far.
Just stepped outside while writing that to see the news channel 8 chopper hovering maybe 50 feet directly over the shop.

So I'd avoid Sandy from 30'th to 40th for a while...

DT

Pre-pre-race update

Sounds like the Independence Day Grand Prix in the Springs was pretty much a bust. It's tough to run a big-money track race when it's raining out, so most events were cancelled or delayed until late in the night. If they have enough money to install a huge light system for night racing, they should be able to install a huge... you know... umbrella system. for rain racing. Come on, do I have to do everything myself?

PDX forecast for this weekend calls for no rain, mid-80s.

Two days to go and I finally have my entire bike ready. Yeah i know, the whole thing. I can hardly believe it myself. Big props to Orbea for making sure the boat from Spain didn't overrun by pirates or anything. I hear that's going around. Also big props to the proffessional mechanics at the bike gallery, specifically Thumbs Cardinal, who threw that glued, unstretched Continental on my front wheel like it was no big deal. I guess that's what a few years of fixing flats on hybrids with Armadillos will do for you. Bionic Thumbs.

Apparently Ping-Pong fell of the wagon with his Solomon diet already. His plan seemed to include racing Tabor and not eating anymore, but Tabor last night was Pong-less. Adam Curry was out there, however. He slayed himself to win a pair of Adidas shoes (lucky sample size nine), to keep him comfortable while watching movies next to Tuckerman in his Adidas hat when Norrene comes home from Nike. Couple of classy guys right there.

We'll have a Serotta Meivici in the shop soon, so if you have $13,000 kicking around somewhere you should come check it out. Or you should give it to me. I will give your money a good home.

DT

AVC

AVC starts this weekend. Kinda nervous. This will be the first big test since my car vs. concrete adventure. I've been doing decent times in training, but they're nothing to write home about. It's go time.

DT

Prosecute!

From Cyclingnews.com:

The various teams taking part in the Tour de France have
now suspended all of their riders implicated in the
Operacion Puerto affair, including Ivan Basso (CSC), whose
nickname was allegedly "Birillo" in Fuentes' files, and
Francisco Mancebo (AG2R). Joseba Beloki (Astana-Wurth) is
another to be sent home. After Jan Ullrich and Oscar Sevilla
were taken out this morning by T-Mobile, the teams are now
pulling their other riders out.

Notables on the list so far (not all names are included here)

***Astaná-Würth: Michele Scarponi, Marcos Serrano, David
Etxebarria, Joseba Beloki, Angel Vicioso, Isidro Nozal, Unai
Osa, Jörg Jaksche

***CSC: Ivan Basso

***Caisse d'Epargne-Illes Balears: Constantino Zaballa

***Saunier Duval: Carlos Zarate

***AG2R: Francisco Mancebo

***T-Mobile: Jan Ullrich, Oscar Sevilla

***Phonak: Jose Enrique Gutierrez, Jose Ignacio Gutierrez

***Comunidad Valenciana: Vicente Ballester, David Bernabeu,
David Blanco Rodriguez, Jose Adrian Bonillla, Juan Gomis
Lopez, Eladio Jimenez, David Latasa, Javier Pascual, Ruben
Plaza, J.Luis M. Jimenez

***Unibet.Com: Carlos Garcia Quesada

***Retired/suspended riders: Roberto Heras, Angel Casero,
Santiago Perez, Tyler Hamilton

Pong'd

The AVC is only a couple of weeks away, and I feel very slow right now. Like not Cat. 4 slow, but definitely not nearly national-level fast. Which is slow. I think. I dont know. Rode a 12.01 at sprint night last week, which was a perfect example. All day, all I was thinking was "must go sub 12... sub 12... sub 12." I was visualizing and aligning my chi and keeping my positive ying balanced with my negative yang and when it came down to it, I missed it by 2 hundredths of a second. Bummer.

I kept thinking about it all weekend, and when I finally got back to the gym on Monday I went way beyond what I have been doing lately, which made walking around for the rest of the day a bit tough. Also made PIR a bit harder than it should be. PIR was pretty classic. Super windy, small-ish field and a single inhumanly strong pro in the field equals big splits and probably a solo or small group finish. And it did. Tuckerman, Ping-Pong and yours truly rode the entire race battling for last wheel. The only exceptions were the hot-spots before the break got clear and the final, in which cases I did the last half-lap blast around the field to get in position for the long tailwind sprint. This final was good fun. Three guys were away, but we wanted our money's worth, so I found Richard's wheel with a lap to go and got a pretty sweet ride in. Dude's got a great motor, and everything was going perfect untill we got to about 400 meters to go, I saw a bunch of shadows jumping around on both sides, but instead of doing the smart thing and hopping on somebody and popping them at the line, I dropped into the 11 and went from waaaay too far out. I held it, but barely. I saw stars. Went cross-eyed. Lost all function. Cramped big-time. It was hard.

I recovered the next day by lifting like a madman and trying to race Tabor. Makes sense, eh? Went Mano-uh-Mano with the Pong on the big Volcano. Long story short, I cracked hard after 10 laps or so and while riding by myself some friendly spectators at the top corner handed me the March 1987 Playboy to keep me motivated. Apparently while I was riding around staring at 20 year old pictures of naughty bits, one of Tabor's hippie longboard skater chicks did a pretty impressive digger into non-soft pavement. She was carving some sweet turns heading directly at a cross-eyed pack of bike racers, when she suddenly realized the magnitude of bummer she was about to enter by nailing 20 bike racers head-on, so she swerved out of the way and put a foot down at 30 miles an hour. I hear she didn't handle it so well. Everyone seemed to have thier own story about the aftermath, but all agreed she was unconcious, bleeding and not looking so good. Medics were on hand before you could say "what the.." and off she went to Emanual. Big drag for sure, but proof that common sense is not something we're all born with.

DT

Ninja Skills

Tests and exams are all done for the term, so as soon as I get my card in the mail I'll be a certified EMT. Boo-ya.

So hot. Can't put together real sentences. Weather calls for 104 degrees today, it's 93 right now. I don't dig. Nothing like a high-rise apartment with no A/C to really brighten your day. Im so hot I almost considered going to the mall just for the air conditioning. ALMOST. Went to the gym for a second time today instead. Yesterday was hot as blazes as well, so after the sun went down I decided to go for a stroll. Council crest sounded like a fine idea, wind blowing, no clouds, city views...

I pulled up to the final turnoff up to the hill and was greeted by roadblock signs and cars in the middle of the street. But these didn't look like police or city cars. No no. These were clearly high school rigs. Lowered civics and mom's Jeep Liberty, guarded by two overgrown lunks in baseball hats and pink polo shirts. So I changed course. Parked around the block and elected to walk the rest of the way up the hill to see what was going on. Some kind of party maybe? Human sacrifice? Rampant drug use? I picked the trail I've walked up before so I could stay in the dark (you know, just in case). I rounded the corner and made my way to the upper loop, the water tower and the big red flashing lights. No party. No sacrifice. Just 7 or 8 piles of wriggling boardshorts and more pink polo shirts on the grass. Each pair maybe 10 feet from the next. Stacked like some hilarious makeout conga-line. Guess I had approached so quietly no one even knew I was there.

*This is akward*

I head back down the hill like some wierd conqueror. Ninja skills at work. 2 More couples made thier way up through the trees and tromped right by, not even 5 feet from where I was standing. I guess I can pass for a very short, sickly tree if it's dark enough.

Pretty dissapointing if you ask me. High schoolers are so boring these days, even we were more creative than that. I was hoping for at least a group of people with a bonfire and a couple of racks of PBR. I mean really, if you're going to take over council crest for the night, you should at least do something worthwile. Maybe a little human bowling? Time-warp outdoor dance party? Smack-talk smack-down? Anything?

By the way. It's hot.

DT

Just thought you should know...

SO there I was, knee deep at PIR when one of my teammates (who's strong like an ox) gets dropped from the break and comes back to the field. Meanwhile Molly Cameron is whining something about how the break is gone boo hooo.I think to myself. Hey, That group must be sailing. They're probably givin'er as hard as possible... wait... then I see some dude dressed in a stretched out purple kit come flying back to the group from the break like his brakes are dragging, or his tires are flat, or his frame is broken, or his pedals are siezed or maybe he's not very fast or something and check it out. It's Ping Pong. That guy is so slow I could probably outclimb him. Uphill. On a BIKE. Yeah. I know. That's pretty slow.

So we keep rollin along, some of us actually doing some work instead of doing the old "eehhh it's hard, we should just go home... i could be at stumptown not updating my blog right now...." like someone else who shall remain nameless. For anonymity's sake we'll call that person Molly Cameron.

In other news, the tour's about to start. I think Ullrich's gonna go into the mountains leading Savoldelli by a couple of tics, then out of nowhere Lance jumps out of the Disco team car foaming at the mouth and tackles Basso while screaming "IM THE MANNN!! IM THE MANN!!"

Rider Sues Bike Shop, GT Bicycles for Failed Quick Release

from Bicycle Retailer and Industry News:

"MAY 26, 2006 -- SANTA FE, NM (BRAIN)—Archibald Sproul, a Santa Fe contractor is suing Rob and Charlie's, a local bicycle shop, and GT Bicycles who made the bike he purchased more than 10 years ago, for injuries he sustained when his quick-release failed and his front wheel came off.

The lawsuit, filed on May 18 at the First Judicial District Court Santa Fe, New Mexico, includes as defendants GT Bicycles, Pacific Cycle and frame maker Ishiwata. The damages sought by Sproul are unspecified and no court date has been set at this time.

The suit claims that the defendants are at fault for manufacturing and selling Sproul a GT All-Terra mountain bike without warning him of the dangers of a quick-release hub and implying that the bike was safe for its intended use. Sproul claims the quick-release eventually failed, causing the front wheel to fall off and causing Sproul extensive injuries."



Awesome.

Apparently this is coming from a lawyer who has a history of frivolous QR lawsuits (of all the wierd niches to get into).
I love that some people refuse to take responsibility for themselves. How evil. How slimy.

p.s. Anybody want free coffee? Eh? eh? Just show up at the Bike Gallery at 5329 SE Sandy at 6pm on Mondays and ride with us to Tully's. We'll buy. Good deal. Do it.

DT

I'm through it Harry...

Finals are done. Holy crap that was a proccess. Two and a half weeks of hair-pulling and teeth-gnashing.

Had an interesting one last night. The 150 question final in my EMT class was a bit of a hard one for everyone including my instructor. He's a great guy, and looked like he wanted to jump up and tell us all the answers to the test because he'd want us all to do great, but of course he had to sit and pretend to grade papers. Fidget, fidget. People finish sporadically and wander into the hall for "the wait" and the first words out of everyone's mouth is 'beer.' After the results come in and everyone predictably does better than they thought, we all make our way to the nearby college watering hole to wind down with a few games of pool and speculation about who in class would make the worst EMT. We envite our instructor, but he laughs it off and turns us down on principle as a teacher. He says it loud enough so the administrators in the building can hear him clearly.

Two games in, he charges through the door of the bar. I don't think I've ever had a teacher that I could sit down and chat with about completely non-school related things, so it was pretty cool to hang out for a while before throwing out the old "i've gotta get to work in the morning, bla bla bla" escape route.

All things considered, it's great to be done for a few precious months.

See you at PIR.

DT

New Format, Old Story (i would've won if...)

So it's official. The new format for sprint night kicks ass. In the past it's been seeded by 200m times, fastest races slowest, second fastest races second slowest and on down the rest. By that method if you're on the bottom of the tree, you're guaranteed to lose your first couple races, and if you're on the top of the tree it's not much of a challenge to get through those first rounds. This week they did a new one. 4 groups split into 4 riders based on 200m times, and each person in thier bracket races every other person in the bracket whether they lose thier rounds or win them. The person with the most number of wins at the end of the night takes it. The cool thing is it gives you more chances to race with people that are closer to your speed, so it's a better workout and better fun for all.

Our group was solid. Zac Copeland, Steven McMuscles, Tim Luther and I. Once again, I'm the skinny guy (by a lot). I think all four of us are getting more and more comfortable racing each other, so each race made me sit back and think a bit about what I was doing. I also thought about how crazy ripped Zac Copeland is. The dude's about as tall but as heavy as a Volkswagen bug, and it's clearly not cozy-shack and beer. That guy's like a little bucket of muscles. Fast twitch muscles. He jumped pretty hard on the backside, I made the mistake of trying to come around too early in the wind, corrected, shut down and turned the giver switch back on out of the last corner to draw even with him... but it wasn't quite enough. All accounts said he had it by a couple of inches. If only I would have gone faster. Then I could win. Other two rides ended well. I think what little road endurance I have left plays in my favor by the 3rd round, makes up for the skinniness a little.

HeatherV came back strong and beat Craig Sinnanian. I congradulated Craig on his race by yelling "YOU JUST GOT BEAT BY A GIRL." Motivational speaking has always been one of my strengths.

DT

so tired....

My apartment is a chaotic mess. The kitchen looks like a war zone. Textbooks, worksheets and notebooks full of illegible scrawl are on every surface in that place. I haven't had a spare minute to clean in weeks. My schedules are getting worse and worse as the final two weeks of school creep closer.
Yesterday for example, went like this: 5:30am wake up head to the gym, back by 7:30, grab some food and out the door by 8 to ride to work, spend the day at the shop working until 5pm (trying unsuccesfully to study at lunchbreaks and whenever it's slow), then head straight to class which starts at 6, try to remember everything I've learned all term so I can pass my 4 hours of practical finals, head home at 10 and finally get back through my door at 10:30 or 11 where I pass out and probably forget to do some homework for some other class.

Whoo.

On the 17th it will be all over. Finally. Going to have to change a few things when I go back next fall, this schedule will not work again (it's barely working this time).

Sprint night tonight, Ballard tommorow (oh crap). I'm at least happy to be heading to ballard, it's good to be racing (not that what I will be doing can be considered racing).

Drove to Hood River last week to check out the Mt. Hood Classic crit. Tuckerman decided not to pre-ride the course and then try to take the first hairpin turn a solid 15 mph faster than everyone else... and crashed. That just made him angry so he tried to take off a couple times to catch Greg Henderson and his coattail-riders, but no such luck. Hendi smashed all in his path to take the win, Kirk almost got his front wheel chopped off in the sprint, Adam missed a prime by the skin of his teeth and Richard and I successfully hassled a Canadian dude.

Magic.

DT

When did hospital billing departments and insurance companies become so horribly unpleasant? Was it right around the time that they refused to talk to each other? I was under the impression that I had handled the whole hospital vs. insurance vs. physician's billing vs. insurance thing pretty well until out of the blue I recieved a final notice yesterday. I crossed all the T's dotted all the I's and sent everybody everything they needed and yet somehow I'm on the brink of being at the mercy of some bloodsucking collection agency? And all this for three excruciatingly painful hours waiting in a room for 2 chest x-rays and a doctor who says "yup, you're pretty busted up, and no you can't have any pain meds, but here's a perscription, good luck finding your own..." at eleven o'clock at night on a Sunday. Somehow I don't see the returns...

Sounds like Tuckerman is trying to ride his own guts out at Hood. That guy's going crazy fast. And Kirk, our newest guy hauls off and throws down a second place on a tough sprinter's stage. That's what we call rockin the casbah. Made me a little sad to be here at work hearing about sprint finishes, just wish I could have been out there to do the afterburner leadout. Just need to make it two more weeks, then schools out and my schedule takes a turn for the better.

Look out if you're riding the crit at Hood tonight, somewhere near one of the more sketchy corners you might get heckled by a pack of BG employees pouring beer down thier throats and on the course. There's a caravan leaving from the Hollywood store around 5pm if anyone's up for a evening of bike spectating and a bit of mt bike riding tommorow.

Picture of the day comes to us from Cyclingnews and Carl Decker, who doesn't care what you think of his showercap.

Weinercannon

There's nothing quite like a rainy, early morning at a bike shop. Nothing happens for what seems like forever, all you can do is stock tubes, sweep, maybe organize a calf-off and listen to some music. Solomon and I drew the early shift this morning, so the day started the way most rainy mornings do around here.

The Bet.

What time to we get the first customer. Store opens at 8. I say 9:10, Sworas says 8:43.30. An upstanding young gentleman strides in at 8:42 to purchase a tube for his BMX bike. Here's the question though... He arrivedcloser to Solomon's time, but actually paid closer to my time. So who wins?

I say me.

For those of you keeping track of my school life (namely the ones financing it), yesterday was a pretty good one. Our EMS class ran a mass casualty incident, which was sweet. 7 cars all mangled together, 9 victims also mangled together, 8 ems crews arriving at different times and I get chosen to direct the whole mess. What a trip. I froze for a few seconds after we arrived, just stared at the other medic on my crew trying to comprehend what the hell I was supposed to do while 9 proctors stared right back at me... I snapped out of it, got things rolling and everything went smoothly from then on. After it was all over it was quite the feeling to be able to accomplish something bigger than writing some essay or selling a pair of armwarmers(even if it was all pretend).

I'll leave you with this image.
Matt Slaven (the shop's inventory manager and probable calf-off champion) lived in Nebraska for a while, and apparently one of his fondest memories is of the hockey game breaks. The players all file off into the locker rooms and a big dude appears in the middle of the ice with his trusty assistant, a mystery bucket and what looks like a home-made cannon. He then starts randomly firing hot-dogs (wrapped in foil)into the crowd on semi-automatic while his assistant reloads the wienercannon.
Huge fat guy shootin weiners into the drunken hockey crowd.

So There I Was, Givin'er

Evan Elken is kinda fast. Seriously.

Here's how the sprint at Swan Island went.

1 lap to go and it's some random dude, Crazy Cardio Carl, then Dirty Dave, then myself, with everyone else on my wheel. Drag. Everyone I wanted to be in plain sight with one lap to go is now behind me, where my eyes are not. Half lap to go, Carl's gone, Daves giviner all he's got and BAM he's got no more. As he blows he simultaneously wheezes something that sounded like "ghgaamaa" but turns out he said ADAM which is short for Curry, who happens to be RIPPING up the left side at about 80 miles an hour. I pull some massive acceleration out of pure nothingness to get on the wheel behind Curry(after punting some dude out of the way (such is life)) and I think "life is sweet." I've just gone from swamped and finishing 20th to being inches from grabbing the golden ticket. Curry finishes his heroic pull, turns right, I start the final push to get around big tall guy from the Wine Team and just as I pull halfway up to him and run completely out of jet power, and out of the corner of my eye I see this orange UFO go bbbrrwwaaAAAA!!! up the outside and demolish both of us by about 4 bike lengths. Woah.

The rest of the race was uneventful for me. I was lazy and hung out in the middle the whole time. The Gallery team were all over every break on the road, trying to get something started. They must have missed Tuckerman.

In other news, I'll be a certified EMT in 4 short weeks, so watch where you fall and break your hip from now on, chances are I'll be out to lunch.

DT

Gleukos at the Gallery

Come and get it. Lemon, orange and punch in powder form, so it's easy to mix any way you like. 15 Measly dollars will get you enough to make 2 gallons of sports drink. You know you want some. Do it now.

I Declare Myself Healed

So take that, you stupid rib. Showed you.

Happy mothers day to my mother. And to the team mother as well. And to any other mothers reading this. Big ups.

Friday night was my first race back, and it wasn't as embarrassing as I had predicted. 200m time was still relatively slow and Steven McMuscles pretty much walked around me with a full lap to go, but at least I didn't end up last. And my chest didn't rip apart. That's good too. Oh and you know what else is good? I got a killer sunburn while doing a 5-hour track workout on sunday. boo-yah. Sunburns mean sun. And sun is good.

So how about that Aaron Tuckerman eh? I've been keeping a lazy eye on the results from the Joe Martin nrc stage race, and I keep seeing that angsty little guy up in the top 15. Who spiked his PBR before he took off? 6th on the first hilly road stage, lead group finish on the flatish sprint finish road stage, 13th in the TT, and 14th in the crit for a grand total of 12th overall. Damn. Not bad for a field full of the best domestic pro teams in the country. What a angry guy. He's like one of those little tiny birds that look like thier made of paper clips and tree bark, but then you walk by and they dive bomb and peck you freakin eyes out... But uglier.

Rest of the boys were up thier fighting it out as well, Kirk, Logan, Richard, you guys get gold stars for just going to Arkansas in the first place, let alone racing your asses off in that godforsaken place.

Good luck at Tri-Peaks you poor suckers.

So it's official. I'm pretty much the slow guy on the team then. I'm cool with that. I still have until October to prove my worth. Just have to keep my eyes open (while driving) and keep working to get back to pre-rib form and beyond.
DT

I Didn't Know I Had That Much In My Stomach (and other recent quotes)...

Now that I'm feeling healed enough to giver' a little bit on the bike, I'm realizing how slow I am. 5 Weeks off the bike doesn't do much for your sprint as it turns out. Or your endurance. Or your anything. I've been riding off and on since my accident, but I've carefully avoided any efforts. Now that I'm confident that I can jump a few times without ripping my ribcage apart, I've started to get back into the good stuff.

Rode out to the track last Sunday to do a little workout with Brian and the crew. No worries right? What could possibly go wrong? This is where Brian says "haaay!" He says "HAY we should do some sprints!" Sure, why not?

First ride is against Casey Deck, who has just done about 5 hard flying lap efforts, is wheezing a little bit and looks pretty beat. I on the other hand have been riding in my granny gear for twenty minutes, so I think "no problem." We wind it up, come around for the final lap and suddenly I felt like I broke a shifter cable in my legs. Normally with about 200 to go I'd turn on the go-jets and run it home, but here it seemed like I'm stuck on cruising speed while casey lopes right past me. My heart rate, however has no problem jacking all the way up to the sky, and after doing a 13 second 200m I feel dangerously close to passing out.


Same thing happens against Beardsley the senior a few times. I'm doubled over gasping on the infield in between sets. Everyone else seems to be fine. Maybe 3 or 4 sprints into the day I start feeling "it." Very calmly, I put my sandals on, grab some water, walk up to the parking lot and loose my clif bar breakfast in some of the most violent spasming heaves of all time. I manage to cover most of the upper parking lot in bile. What an accomplishment.

Not surprisingly, I feel a bit better after that and finally take doug in the very last race... but barely... and with some very questionable tactics.

I was really looking forward to taking things up a few levels this year, but looks like I'm starting off by taking a few giant steps back. Looks to be a long and difficult summer, so steer clear of me after a few hard efforts.

DT

Welcome To The Club

Sounds like the Willamette Classic was pretty much a disaster for the Rubicon/kiwi contingent. Tuckie crashed, richard crashed, adam crashed. We even lost people without crashing. Rough weekend. I on the other hand, watched some TV, hung out at the coffee shop next to my place and basked in the sun, went to the track, rode until it hurt and basked in the sun some more. So I guess Willamette wasn't a complete disaster, it went pretty well for me.

As a result, Richard's joining me on the team sick list. Sounds like he got punted off his bike in a sprint and spent the next couple days coughing blood. He came out for the yeah yeah yeahs at the roseland, apparently he's in the broken rib club now. Drag.

Speaking of the Yeahs, they took the stage late enough to let the crowd get anxious and liquored up, then proceeded to blow everyone's mind to little quivering peices. They were ON it, Karen O was slamming about the stage like she was on fire, the crowd was amping, Nick Zinner the guitarist was throwing down these crazy guitar solos from space even though he looked like he shouldn't be strong enough to hold his guitar up, tuckie was heckling random people like a true champ, everyone was into it.

Euro-pro sidenote: Horner kicks ass. Pulls the big victory in Romandie, takes the mello yello jersey and looks like he's having an epileptic seizure during his celebration. What a rock star.

Headline of The Day

From CNN (again)

"Naked carpenter: I wanted to stay clean"

OAKLAND, California (AP) -- A carpenter who keeps his clothes clean by working in the nude was arrested after a client returned home early and found him building bookcases in the buff.

Percy Honniball, 50, was charged with misdemeanor indecent exposure this week for the October incident.

He told officers he stripped before crawling under the client's house to do electrical work because he didn't want to soil his clothes, police said.

Honniball said Thursday that working in the nude gave him a better range of motion and that a skilled craftsman can work clothing -- and injury -- free.

Put Me In, Coach

You know what's stupid? Not racing.

I hate hearing about what happened in this or that race, knowing that I could have been there and would have had a killer time..

Oh well, at least I'm riding again. Still no lifting any time soon. Baby steps.

Check out Thursday's front page at CNN.com. Killer picture of a bike filling up its tires at a gas station, accompanied by an article about the skyrocketing price of gas...

p.s. My personal quote of the day for today has been "I'm more into revenge than justice..."

DT

i'm goin' harry....

The crushing pain's over, so tommorow's the first ride. We'll shoot for two hours, see how it goes. Not doing anything for a couple weeks has been driving me slowly insane. Thought I was going to come unglued yesterday when I got caught in traffic for 5 whole minutes... things are getting desperate.

Any longer period of rest tends to turn me into a bit of a lunatic...

Anyway. Ipod situation is solved. The new black 30g video is quite nice.

Supposed to be mid-60s and sunny all week... maybe i should take thursday off...

DT

meanwhile in france...

Pretty amazing how much time you have when work is slow and you can't ride or lift. It's really kicking up the blogging to the next level. Don't worry though, gimme 4 more weeks and I'll go back to updating every month or so.

Meanwhile...

Anyone been paying attention to what's going down in Frenchy-ville? That country has some seriosly liberal labor laws (say that ten times drunk), and thier system works pretty well. Poor bastards tried to pass a law allowing employers to fire employees under 26 within two years of thier hire date without cause, making the ex-employee inelligible for any kind of unemployment support.

Students and socialists had an absolute fit. Pretests everywhere, riots in the streets, general mayhem all over the place and all aimed at killing that one law. Seemed for a while kinda futile. Students vs. government.

But they won. Forced the government to overturn the law.

I'm not saying it's right or wrong. Just interesting.

Indymedia article
NY Times article
MSNBC article

DT

Kicking ass vicariously

Since I'm all laid up eating ice cream and feeling sorry for myself instead of riding for the next 6 weeks, I've decided to start racing vicariously through all my teammates. I'm starting with Sea Otter, where we did a pretty tough course with a bunch of pros, and I kicked ass. Here's one shot of me kicking ass:
Yeah, it was pretty tough, I was rocking pretty hard at the front, but I didn't stop there. Oh no. I took a break for a minute as you can see so I could give everybody else a rest, but really I was just letting everyone slip into a false sense of security. Check it out, this Health Net dude is wondering where I am. Wondering if he can relax or not.


I'm on pretty kill form and I've dropped some extra poundage from last year, so I decided to giver a little on the hill a couple times. You can see here that I'm not really breathing that hard as I string everybody out and split the field into little whimpering groups. Phill Ligget would have said something like "he's looking cool as a cucumber here," and then he'd be all like "he's really putting them in a spot of bother now!" I'm pretty sure I was in my 12.

I beat Gord Fraser in the finish, but I was out of the money. Nobody was there to give me a prize for rocking that hard.. but i know i rocked it and thats all that counts...

DT

all photos from www.steephill.tv.

meds (an update)

Vicodin is pretty rough stuff. Flexerall (some crazy muscle relaxer/sedative) ditto. Not sure how people can get addicted to this stuff and still function. It's like I've been on a two second delay for the last few days, I'll think about doing something like picking up a watter bottle to take a drink, the muscle command will lose a few details in translation, then two seconds later I'll watch myself knock the bottle off the counter onto a computer keyboard at work. Thank god for public transport. Likewise, everything I said in those first few days afterward fell about 20 yards short of making any sense at all. I'd think of something, the sentence would rattle around in my neck for a few seconds and come out as some slurred idiot rambling. Somehow dealt with those unpleasant jackals from the insurance companies within the first 48 hours while in a waking coma.

Friday was my first completely unmedicated day (ran out of vicodin... muscle relaxers scare me) and yeah, chest hurts, back hurts, head hurts, but it was manageable. Nightime sucked a big one though. Seems to be no way at all to avoid resting on or compressing or stretching that rib. That one stupid rib.

Feeling a bit manic without the ability to ride or lift.

Had dinner with my parents and watched Big George take a big dive at Paris-Roubaix today. Felt good to get out of my highrise box apartment (as cool as it is) and hang out in a big house with a few spazzy dogs. Nothing funnier than watching my previously submissive smaller female collie-dog mount and try to hump our much bigger young male collie. She's awesome.

Sounds like Tuckerman had a pretty sweet ride at Sea Otter and ended up 20th. Results are here. Good thing too, cause I told norrene beforehand that if he didn't beat Gord Fraser I was going to kick him off the team and send him home, so I guess he can stay.

Picked up the new Placebo disc "Meds" today in the spirit of the occasion. Pretty good stuff. Mostly about drugs, believe it or not. Solid album, it'll take a few more listens to see if it's as good as the last one, but signs are good.

DT

Mullet Haiku (extended version)

Shampoo stings my eyes,
I will never feel that twice:
slick hair smells like gas.

O! Squirrel brother,
Your tail, my hair. We are one.
Yet I must eat you.

I liked that foreign
legion movie so much, I
grew me one them hats.

Brown edged tank top sticks
to my white clumpy armpits
Somehow I get laid.

Flowing down the back
helps to keep mind closed, hate
released by short top

My hair is slammin
like Stone Cold. Can I get a Hell
yeah? Hell yeah. Hell yeah.

This super cool hair
and a bucket of chicken:
What more could I want?

my slick snakeskin boots
my silk shirt with rooster prints
always colored jeans

Lynnrd Skynnrd didn't
win no spelling bees. Who cares?
They rock the trailer.

Razor set to one.
Do front and sides and then stop
Reaffirm my style.

Metallica is
for first graders. Nothing rocks
harder than Winger.

Dogs urinate where
they so choose. And so do I.
Red and blue lights flash.

Teen runaway, I
hate my dad. Yet I am one.
Fly, thunderbird, fly.

Ponytails are for wimps.
But if you let that hair loose,
you are my brother.

New white tank top tucks
neatly into tight black jeans:
redneck romeo.

Short like your schooling.
Long like your prison sentence.
The penal haircut.

Bald on the top and
long on the back. Behold my
glorious skullet.

My mullet and me
like to climb up a tree. We're
the best friends that could be.

Dad likes my mullet.
The nurse calls it a critter
carpet. My head breeds.

One day I will dip
and race cars. Until then I
ride my bike, chew gum.

With long hair in place
how else can I rebel? Hand
me the bong uncle.

Under the Christmas
tree: tight black jeans and a comb.
I've been extra good!

Short for dad. Long for
the daughter mom always wanted.
Everyone's happy.

Jacked Up. again.

Not much to say about this one. My truck happens to be out of commission, so I drove Jenny's car to the race on Sunday. It was a road race, flat, exposed, crazy crosswinds, and a big break that we almost caught on the final lap. I was pretty cooked. Hitched a ride in the team van back to Vantucky, picked up Jenny's car, went to save a friend stranded at the bus station and gave her a ride back to Willsonville. Must have dozed off for the half a second it took to aim the car straight at a center divider on I-5 north. I jerked back to conciousness on impact.

Managed to escape with a broken first rib, a banged up knee (steering columns are hard) and a sore everything else. No airbags were involved, so I took the brunt of the 60mph impact with my chest.


How's that for accuracy? Couldn't have hit the divider more on the driver's side unless I had opened the door and jumped out at it. Awesome testament to the safety of the honda civic. And seatbelts. The fact that the car sustained this much damage without transfering too much of it to yours truly is quite astounding.

So the only question now is how much will it cost to repair the divider (yes, it's very damaged, and yes I'll have to pay for it). As for now, I'm taking painkillers, muscle relaxer/sedatives and a few days to recover. The doctor says 6 weeks for the rib, but I think he's full of shit. I'll give it a couple. 4 max.

DT

the man. again.

Midnight. Finally home. Full day today; lifted early, rode with Curry and Solomon up the cemetery, ate heroic amounts of biscuits and gravy, went to work and stayed there until a mere 20 minutes ago. Stupid sale, can't set itself up for some reason.

The city is inexplicably dark tonight. Sky is clear, no fog in sight, it's just wierdly dark outside my window.

The iPod died today. One minute I was adding the new Editors album and the next thing I knew the damn thing had no songs and was completely unreadable by my computer. Pretty sure they install these little devils with a self-destruct timer that bombs the shit out of it's own internals after enough expensive new versions come out. Another classic example of The Man trying to get my money. Trying to get me down.

Damn the Man.

A few new kiwis are in town. Met Richard at Fresh Pot this weekend. Haven't been able to get an impression yet, although rumor has it he doesn't drink coffee. Suspicious. Curry has returned a bit bigger but off the sauce for the next few months. Can't actually tell he's any bigger, but he claims to be a good 7kg's over weight. I give him a couple months and he'll be destroying some careers again this summer. Tuckerman on the other hand came over a few kgs underweight. That skinny little freak. Dude looks like he's stuck in some ancient potato famine. I feel like taking him to McD's and supersizing his goofy ass. Maybe the two g-units will just even each other out. We'll see.

First race this weekend. Dead flat. If a break goes away and a orange dude doesn't win it everyone's fired. I'll cover the field.

DT

ahh, erg.

This is a modern torture device.

The thing is so stable, so rock solid that nothing moves but the cranks trying to turn that 80 lb. flywheel. The fancy pully system behind the flywheel means that Brian can sit back there and choose how hard he thinks I should go. For some reason we always seem to disagree on that one. I can't see the wattage output from the SRM, I have no control over the resistance, all I can do is try not to let the pedals grind to an embarrassing stop. Guess what the garbage can next to the bars is for?

Massive effort tonight.

8 kilos full bore.

Underestimated the wattage on the first two and went through so much awful pain I nearly didn't make it to the end of the efforts.

Headaches started immediately after the first set.

Started losing vision after the third.

I think my heart is sore.

I need a cookie.

DT

Cops and Kiwis

So yesterday one of our mechanics rolls out the door of his apartment on his bike (in the rain) on his way to work. He slows at a stopsign, looks both ways, sees that the sleepy residential street is as empty as Wal-Mart during a Nascar final, and casually rolls through to his right, straight into a cop squatting on a BMW with a cup of coffee in his hand. From 10 feet away the cop yells into his megaphone PULL OVER RIGHT NOW!! The motorcop hands him a $242 ticket for disobeying a traffic control device. Drag.

You're doing the environment a service and saving yourself from credit card debt AND avoiding contributing to the terrifying state of oil in the world, just minding your own business, riding perfectly safely, and someone wants to ding you for it anyway. WTF. Saying that a person on a bike needs to put his foot down at every stop is like saying a car needs to turn it's engine off and put it's parking brake on at every stop. Some of us live on about that much money after the bills are paid every month. What are we supposed to do then?

On a completely unrelated note, Tuckerman landed at PDX after his 24 hours of travel limbo last night. The Godfrey's cat Digger will be so pleased. Tuckie's ramping up for a big St Paddy's day, followed by a huge season of racing, with a large number of Muchas Gracias burritos peppered in between.

mmm... burritos.

DT

Sun's Out

It's early. Cold. Frosty. But sunny.

Solomon wants to go ride, I want to drink coffee. That bastard. Guess we'll meet at Stumptown.

Guess the Veloshop got jacked up a couple nights ago, some idiots smashed one of the huge plate glass windows. Molly may have terrible grammar, but at least she runs a pretty killer shop, so you should go buy some sweet track stuff from her.

I guess Portland's pretty spoiled on the killer bike shop front. Between the Gallery, River Shitty, Cycle-Path, Veloshop and Bike Central, if you can't find what you're looking for around here, you are a freak and what you're looking for is probably really lame.

Oh and hey, when did Floyd Landis become the man?

And why is he wearing those glasses?

DT

Post Race Hypothetical Wrap-Up / Pirate Crit Series

First Bannana Belt of the year was last weekend. Here's how it would have gone if I had been there instead of here (at the shop).

I would have slept as long as possible, and therefore I'd get a pretty late start. On the drive I'd probably listen to NPR for a while to wake myself up, then I'd transition over to something more aggro like Raw Power by Iggy Pop or maybe even some old Dropkick Murpheys. I'd show up about a half-hour before race time and sit in the car until everyone starts to line up.

The start sounded pretty hard, with a couple guys going blocks from the parking lot. I'd laugh at them from the back of the group and joke around with Skerrit or whoever else is around back there. After the neutral zone break comes back, I'd probably be amused at how much bling-bling is rolling around in my field. The opera of screaming break pads on new carbon wheels would make me smile on every little roller. I usually try to take it (really) easy for these races as to avoid the embarrassment of getting dropped in a easy road race, but I think yesterday I would have gone after the first sprint like in my usual spring fashion. About 500m before the line, while sitting around 3rd to last I'd change my mind and decide to go for it, fly around the field in the gutter and miss winning it by about an inch. I would have done this twice and spent the rest of the day hurting and thinking I should have done a few training rides this winter longer than 3 hours.

I think I would have finished about 8th.

After that I would've hung out in the parking lot for a while with a few friends and talked about how I didn't win because "I didn't really care" and "it's just a training race" instead of just admitting that I'm weak and I don't like it when it's cold.


Speaking of racing, cold and sprinting, who's up for a wednesday night training crit series? Anybody? I'm thinking maybe a couple of different courses, no categories, kinda like fight club for bike racers and any other hooligans who want to show up.

I'm down, are you?

DT


Check out my sweet new custom track bike

Virtual Magic Mountain

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6869399616004720005

Olympic Bummer

http://www.nbcolympics.com/wgal/5121495/detail.html?call=wgal

City Made of Cookies

http://www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com/theWife/biscuitcity/

New Strategy; Bagpipes

New Strategy for complete national and local domination.

Travelling personal babpipe band.

They follow me to races, march into the infield and start playing battle songs while I warm up.

Went to Kells Irish Pub for a Guinness and some fish+chips with a few friends the other night. Place was packed to the walls, people everywhere. The air had that electric Saturday night tension that makes every second seem like the one just before everything breaks loose.
The Irish band on stage finishes up a raucous set and wanders to the bar. Things quiet down momentarily. Just as people start to get restless a low drone starts... you know... droning. No one knows where it's coming from, few even know what the sound is until the snare drums start pounding. Seems far away but it's getting louder and louder. Louder and louder until a bagpipe band walks straight past your table in full kilt-kit playing as loud as bagpipes, snares and bass drums can play.

I'm not even Irish and for some reason this sound made me want to stand up and fight everyone in the room. Everyone. Right then. If that stuff brings out the anger while I'm sitting at a table with Jenny and a few other girls, imagine how amped I'd get while warming up... That would open the door to "the room" and push me right through.

Plus, can you imagine how crazy that would look to the other guy? How insane would I look?

Anybody know a good bagpiper?

HA! JACKED UP!

So at superweek last year I was trying to survive 2 hour crits, going so hard I dislocated and unhinged my jaw to facilitate better airflow into my pathetic, kiddy-balloon style lungs, and out of knowhere this dude in the Uraguay-an national team kit (which I recognized from geting jacked around by two different Uraguay guys at the AVC a couple years ago) rides up the curb on the inside and bunnyhops back into the street and gives me a full body-check which sends me into Dave McCook, who gets pissed, starts yelling and body-checks me right back into the curb. I stayed upright with some magical powers and by closing my eyes and thinking of how retarded it would be to crash in the middle of the field with 30 minutes to go, surrounded by a hundred guys who are all faster than me.

Anyway. The Uraguanian ends making an absolute KILLING by winning every prime over 10 dollars for 5 races straight by riding 200 meters in front of the field for lap after lap after lap. Stories run rampant about his vicious and idiotic riding style and terrible personal hygiene.

Then USACYCLING.ORG drops the megabomb:


"COLORADO SPRINGS (February 16, 2006)

USADA sanctions Uruguayan rider

The United States Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) announced today that Alvaro Tardaguila of Montevideo, Uruguay, an athlete in the sport of cycling, has accepted a two-year suspension after his sample tested positive for the prohibited substance recombinant human erythropoietin (EPO) and an anabolic agent.

Tardaguila’s two-year suspension begins on October 17, 2005, the day he received credit for serving a voluntary suspension. He is disqualified from the Downer Avenue Bike Race held in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and all subsequent events. USADA handled this case of a Uruguayan athlete as directed under the UCI rules since Mr. Tardaguila tested positive at an event in the United States

Bikeless Post

Today I'm not talking about anything related to bikes. I'm all in a tizzy about The Great Danish Cartoon Fiasco. This whole thing is getting way out of hand. Here's the timeline:

Danish cartoonist draws a frame of a dude with a turban, a bomb and the word Mohammed written on him.

Muslims get pissed.

Everybody freaks out.

An Israeli newspaper reprints the cartoon in an article explaining the outrage.

An Arab newspaper reacts, creating a contest calling for reader submissions of offensive anti-jew holocaust comics.

The same Israeli newspaper reacts to the reaction, calling for ITS readers to send in thier own offensive anti-jew holocaust comics, saying (I'm paraphrasing but I swear I'm not making this up) "when it comes to jew-bashing, no one will beat us at our own game."

Today (from opb.org) "In the northwestern Pakistani city of Peshawar, cleric Maulana Yousef Qureshi said he had personally offered to pay a bounty of 500,000 rupees ($8,400) to anyone who killed a Danish cartoonist, and two of his congregation put up additional rewards of $1 million and one million rupees plus a car."

Holy crap. Over million bucks plus a car for the assasination of a cartoonist? Are you kidding? Is this for real? Are we that evil? WTF?

DT

Hey Yo New Guys, What's Up?

Season's coming faster than i care to think. I think Tuckie that skinny wanker is showing up in mid-March. Scotty'll be over as soon as it stops raining (so july or august?) and I don't know about the rest. Looks like the team's taking shape for another year. People from all over the place will be fighting the power in orange. Bring it. More kiwis, an east-coast yank and portlander by way of... some other places. So to Ian, Kirk, Logan and Richard: welcome to the crew. Also Steven Beardsley and Heather V will be joining me on the track this year. Boo-ya.

Today's crash brought to us by steep tracks and toe-clips.

Seahawks, Rectangles and Malaysian Crashes; a Recap

Today's Crash Of the Day courtesy of racing in January and the Tour of Malaysia.

Saw a bunch of bands for free last night. Most impressive was The Rectangles. Kind of like Cars songs played by a combination of every early 80s english punk band ever. Singer was the nerdiest ever, looked like he had just crawled out of a stormtrooper costume. He was spazzy to match. So uncoordinated he fell off the stage twice. Tried to climb on top of his keyboard (which was perched on top of a rickety two-leg key stand). Thought he was going to swan-dive into the crowd at any moment, but he ended up staying up for an entire song as the 9 keys he was standing on droned on and on and on... classic.

Not normally a huge football fan, but go Seahawks. It's 2:10 and we're watching pregame on the bigscreen shop TV...

Wierd. Never know who's gonna walk into the shop at Jay's side sometimes. Congressman Earl Blumenauer's wandering around in spandex checking out accessories for the pair of Trek Portlands (his and hers?) he's about to purchase... He looks skinnier than he does on the news. Nice guy though. Funny seeing people like that out of thier element. Maybe in a neon windbreaker instead of a red power tie. Makes my life interesting.

Pregame shows crack me up. What are these guys saying that hasn't been said for the past 2 weeks every day on espn or in any sportsbar in the country?

How 'bout that sun eh? eh? Wonder what Ping-Pong's doing right now.

URGENT NEWS ANNOUNCEMENT:

SAUL RAISIN WINS THIRD STAGE AT MALAYSIA
What an animal. US U23 (u24 now?) slays em' on the big stage. Awesome.

Two Ways To Hate Yourself

Way #1: Lactic/Analactic/Vo2 Threshold Testing.

Went to the always impressive Nike campus yesterday to spend some quality time in the top-secret super-shwank athlete testing facility. It was like walking into a Austin Powers scene. Huge electronic locked doors with giant "RESTRICTED AREA" signs on them. Lots of brushed aluminum and diamond plate steel all over the place, huge rooms with cameras everywhere, the odd human skeleton model here and there, and lots of prosthetic feet laying around. That was probably what struck me the most about the facility. The feet. Everywhere.

The testing itself was brutal. My shiny new bike was set up on an electonically controlled trainer that measures power output in the form of watts. The idea is, the rider goes through a load period of 4 minutes at a certain wattage, at the end of which you get a rest of 30 seconds to a minute while the lab people draw blood and analyze it to determine how much lactic acid is circulating in your body. Then it's back up to load, with another 4 minutes at 40 more watts than the previous load. Over and over. If that's not bad enough, you're doing the entire process with your nose blocked off and a mouthpeice jammed in your face so they can record how much CO2 you're expelling and how much O2 you're taking in with every breath and how often and bla bla bla. You get to repeat the load over and over and over with increasing resistance until you collapse or throw in the towel.

We started at 150 watts, made it to a full load at 330, a sustained heart rate of 210, white and red spots in front of my eyes, a splitting headache, loss of motor skills, and an inability to communicate.

I have only hurt that bad once on a bike (new zealand, tour de vinyards, takaka). I wanted to spit the mouthpeice out, I tried, I couldn't.

I won't get the official results unil later today, but at one point on my final effort I overheard one of the lab techs (sorry guys I'm not so good with names) mutter "holy shit" under her breath as she watched my breathing and lactic rates. Hopefully that's good shit...


Way #2: Listen to Bill O'Rielly

Honest, it was a mistake. I was just flipping through radio channels looking for a traffic report and I heard an irate old man screaming about (i swear I'm not making this up) Muslims all deserve the stereotype of terrorist extremist because "all of the 9/11 hijackers were followers of the Koran." A soldier back from Iraq tried to argue for reason and (surprise!) O'Rielly attacked him.

ACTUAL QUOTE: from the blowhard about religious extremeism. "I think I know what I'm talking about, I wrote a book on the subject."

ugh...