the season continues...

Nothing says "bathing suit weather" like January in Holland! Looks like I'm packing wool socks and rain coats, because contracts are settled, tickets are booked and I'm set to ride the Rotterdam 6 the week before my birthday. Throughout the entirety of the Amsterdam 6, all anyone could say was "wait till you see Rotterdam."

It's going to be epic.

Timing couldn't be better, as everything was confirmed only 2 days before the end of the coach-mandated rest period. Definitely a good motivator for the crappiest months of the year. With a new frame and fork on the way and a plane ticket in hand, there's no excuse for skipping the trainer rides this winter. Game on.

christmas shopping, anyone?

I think one of my favorite product partnerships of all time has to be with Rolf Prima. Most of the time, companies are perfectly happy slapping a logo on the jersey and handing you a pro-deal form. And as much as I appreciate getting sweet deals on cool stuff, these guys are different.

When we started working together, I was happy to be riding on nice road wheels, but didn't think much more of it. Rolf, however, realized that they were missing out on a great and passionate sector of the sport. A sector of the sport that to this point has been completely dominated by one scrappy American company and a pack of Frenchies that think the world of their track racing wheels, and charge accordingly. So they started asking questions.
"do people like tubulars or clinchers?"
"aero or lightweight?"
"carbon or aluminum?"
And so on.
For months and months.

I didn't immediately realize that I was a sounding board for a bunch of guys that were preparing to enter the track market, but when the first pair showed up completely stickered and ready to ride, the light clicked on. We went through several versions, we hashed out little nit-picky details and they finally landed on three versions ready for ultimate thrashing, commuting, and racing. Granted, they did all the hard work (I hear engineering is kinda tough. all that math and stuff), but after a summer of test pilotry, long winded emails and many many races on untested gear, there are 3 finished products.
So now, I am very proud to present to everyone:



The Rolf Track Alloy.
These are designed as a daily training wheel and a weekly race workhorse. I think the two words I typed the most when we talked about these wheels was "lateral stiffness," and that says it all. I am 190 pounds, and wanted a rock-solid wheel that I could do starts on all day, then turn around and race on that same night. This is the product. Custom 14 gauge bladed spokes, 20h rear, 16h front, clincher. Crazy stiff, very aero and virtually bombproof. A sprinter or enduro's dream. Beautiful. Black.



The Rolf 58 Track
Same brutally stiff setup as the alloy, but add a 58m deep carbon tubular rim. Low, paired spoke count on the front keeps it extremely aero, while the higher spoke count, paired design and high tension on the rear makes power transfer instantaneous. I rode these wheels in our winning team sprint at the Elite National Championships this year (and recorded the fastest first lap of the week, including Wednesday's 250 times). Not a bad debut. Also all the pics below from the Amsterdam six feature this front wheel and Rolf's forthcoming Carbon Disc. This is by far the fastest wheel I have ever ridden. It is also the blackest wheel you could ever ride. It is like the race wheel from the black lagoon, but blacker, and with menacing yellow eyes. Which is pretty great.



And last but certainly not least:
The Rolf P-Town
These wheels are sexy. Conversation over.
Based on the race wheels, but styled for... well... style. 130m rear spacing, so they'll fit on your hooptie fixie, killer mustache bar commuter or single speed cross bike. Flip-Flop hub will do fixie or free. These wheels will smash your face with killer-ness and leave you moaning and groaning for more. So get some. Today. Actual mustache not included.

DT

a few more pics

Here's a sequence of one of my many 3rds in the kierin. It's a shame it misses the violent last-lap dive under one of the dutch guys to get back to Mulder's wheel.













Bauge and I after our team sprint win.

Twitter + Doofus + Shatner = Gold

This is the True Hollywood Story about how Jenny and I met.

professional circus animals

Day 3

The sprint World Champ has figured out his role. I have the luxury of a common language with the Dutch, so my first pro Six has gone fairly smoothly. They've acted as translators for VIP schmoozers, organizers and announcers, and I'm endlessly grateful. However. They nor I speak anything close to French, and Bauge speaks about 10 words of English, so that line of communication has been iffy. High-fives, shrugs and smiles only go so far.

But finally, after a few touch-and-go evenings, the massive french champion really Gets It. Before the kierin we are all relaxing in the cabins, mocking some awful song the DJ has chosen, when Bauge throws down a fierce French rap. Yondi immediately makes for the announcer's booth, smiling wickedly.

As you wind up for your 200, it's equally important to wind up the crowd. I ride my 200 while the previously mentioned "Born In The USA" plays at maximum volume, with the first two laps at the rail no-hands, clapping to the beat and willing the crowd to cut loose. So far, the DJ's have chosen some lifeless techno song for Bauge to wind up to, but tonight is different. He rolls up the track with his usual World Champion game face. Deadly serious. A true professional. There is a moment of silence as he climbs the banking and the song cues up. The chorus of 50 Cent's "In Da Club" erupts from the speaker stacks and the crowd absolutely loses it. Bauge smiles wide and for the first time seems to be enjoying himself, bobbing his head and dancing with the crowd on lap 2.


We are circus animals in colorful clothing, brought here to play to our national stereotypes and entertain the patrons. Winning the race and destroying your competition is secondary to the much more difficult task of winning the crowd.



They will know immediately if you are over your head. These people have watched cycling like football their entire lives, and there are no excuses worth their time. So make it a good one. Get out of the gate like you mean it, don't disrespect someone with rainbow stripes and give it everything for the show. There is no UCI or USCF rapping your knuckles for headbutts or chops. If we raced like they want us to at US Nationals, spectators would leave their seats and never again slap down 30 euros to watch a bike race. No reward without risk.

let go of the bars, and do your job

This week was many things. Stressful? Yes. Successful? Yes. I returned from Europe with some great memories, average pictures, a notebook full of over-caffienated writing and a paid invitation to return.

So instead of going through a tedious day-by-day account of what happened, we'll start with a couple of excerpts of what I wrote at the time and a few pictures.

Day 2:
Baggage difficulties, language barriers and twisted, sleepless nights fade instantly as you find yourself riding at the rail, winding up for your 200 as "Born In The USA" blasts out of the stadium speakers. Now you're playing to the crowd like you've never done before. Hands off the bars in mid-corner, fist-pumping, willing the crowd of rabid Dutch out of their seats.
Keep your machine under control amid the road, the music, the derny fumes, the strobes, lasers and nerves. Just keep your head up, be the rockstar the crowd paid 50 bucks a pop to see. This is your job, so enjoy it.



The riders' cabins are beyond cramped. 36 pro men including the sprinters. 2 riders per 3X5 cabin, each pair with 2 soigneurs and mechanics drifting in and out. Add to that a constant stream of "VIP Liasons," taking paying fans through the rider's area to see their favorite starts. As a World Champ, Bauge is in high demand, so most high-roller patrons end up at the end of the row, standing in front of the sprinter's cabins asking for autographs and pictures.




Day 3:
The derny smoke hangs thick tonight. 3 rounds of 50-lap noise-fests down, one to go and I cannot wait for those laps to be over. Every night at the hotel I'm spitting black crap and listening to my ears ring, waiting for the noise/fumes/adrenaline/exertion headache to fade away.
This a scene tailor made for Vegas. Singles dressed to the nines, stalking each other and liver disease, swilling free booze on the VIP infield, chaotic frenzy from the cheap seats, strobes and lazers everywhere.







My corner of the world for six nights is very literally that. A tiny corner, with a light, a dirty mattress and a shelf. It is cramped and it is hot, but it's also mine. In someone else's country, at someone else's event and on someone else's turf, this is all the real estate I need to keep grounded. That and a free coffee every now and then...

DT

sneak previews R us

Longer version of this video is coming soon, but here's the short version:

Landrover Orbea Sizzle Video from pierre robichaud on Vimeo.

Big thanks to Pierre Robichaud for making this happen.

DT

Killer Commute

tour of the cities of sin

Home is where the heart is? Where the wife is, the cat, the french press and by far the most comfortable bed in the world. Yes. All of these things. It's good to be home (for a minute). A quick breath, try to recover from a few weeks in two of the most vile places on the planet and off to somewhere unknown.

Vegas, first up. What a city. A bunch of rich guys showing off in the desert. The trade show went well, but it wasn't quite the show that it's been in the past. No huge announcements, not many revered euro-pros, very few (meaningful or exciting) unveilings. But there was a pretty sweet high-wheel:


Cav's Tour bike was cool to see:



It was also pretty entertaining watching the Chinese exhibitors assembling some future Wal-Mart Specials in the parking lot.



All in all I would say that the business side of my trip to Vegas was a success. Learned some good stuff for the shop, saw some important things, got some things settled. However, one thing is for certain: Vegas right before Nationals is no good. Too much free beer, waaaay too much walking, not enough riding. I did get one important thing accomplished. Every now and then you must go above and beyond as the only sober person in the room. Every now and then you need to take apart your couch and reassemble it on your unconscious, barely alive co-worker.



Enough of that. On to Los Angeles.

Nationals this year was not a bust, but it was not the nationals I was hoping for. I false started the standing 250 and destroyed my chance at a National record and another jersey. My time in the 200 was less than stellar. In face it was pretty much unacceptable to my coach and the USAC folks in the stands. My tactics in the Kierin were questionable (first or last!). I even briefly toyed with the idea of having my mechanic go chop some tendons:



Looks like he liked the idea. Actually not surprisingly the cause of Dave's burst of activity was cake. So there ya go.

It all came around on the final day for the team sprint, not a moment too soon. I rode first, lost a few tenths coming out of the gate a little late (was not interested in false start X2) but still rode a first lap that would have won me the 250. Lanell Rockmore rode a stellar lap and Kevin Mansker fought the big fight to chase back and finish the third lap. In the end we won by a comfortable margin and got to stand on the top step of the podium and pull on another one of these:



Feels good.

What will also feel good will be wearing it (or something like this) in the Amsterdam 6-Day. One week from today I'm back on a jet plane, headed over the pond to Holland. This is a huge opportunity for me, and something I've wanted to do for a long time. If you had asked me a year ago, I would have been happy just to see a euro 6, let alone race one! If you're interested, you should be able to follow the race at www.zesdaagseamsterdam.nl. With a little help from Google Translate the site is pretty cool.

As for me, I have a roller session to do. Rest is for suckers.
DT

dont be a jerk, you stupid knee

Training has been chugging along like a brakeless hell-train straight through the desert. No stop, no rest for the weary... until.

Thursday.

Awesome day, 3 sets of 3 standing starts in increasing gears. USAC's athletics director was milling around at the track, so every effort put me deeper into the hurt locker. Things were going well, I was setting PR's at every distance (including a 250m that was 2 tenths off the national record), and the coach was happy. I start feeling some strangeness coming out of my hip flexors and we call it a day to avoid the dreaded 4-weeks-before-nationals-injury. I pack up my crap, squat down to pick up my water bottle and BANG! my knee crumples. fantastic.

Rode home with one leg and began a mandatory 4 day break, which thankfully ends today. Turns out I don't sleep so well without workouts during the day.

Looks like I'll be joining the rest of the cycling industry at Interbike in Vegas this year. Shame it's 1 week before Nationals, means I'll have to be on good behavior (which is not so much fun in vegas), but I'm not worried. This close to a national record and possibly a big fat check from USAC means there's plenty of motivation left. Guess I'll just have to try and keep Tuckerman A: alive and B: out of prison. That may be my biggest challenge yet.

DT

BAM

Take that Jason Allen.

My shoes are whiter than yours.

Like a glove. No oven time necessary.

DT

it's all about performance

This is simultaneously hilarious and awesome.



These girls pumped up their tires and oiled their chains...

brilliant

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. A-Hole

Elite level track racing is a funny thing. The margins of victory are so slim, the consequences of mistakes are so final, it's important to get everything just right. Your equipment has to be perfect, your fitness and strength have to be perfect, your warmup has to be perfect, and most importantly, your head must be in exactly the right place to ensure that your split-second decisions are perfect. If one of these things is the slightest bit off, your weekend goes from standing on top of a podium to watching the finals for gold from the stands. The recent Velodrome Challenge races in Portland and Seattle were great examples of this. Portland is my hometown. My all-time favorite place. I live and train in Colorado Springs, but if you handed me a blank plane ticket to go anywhere in the world, I would walk toward whatever gate said PDX. My friends are there, my family is there, my team is there, everyone I grew up racing with is there. As a result, when I step off a plane in the Great Northwest, I have a lot going on.

This is great for a vacation, but a tough environment to focus in.

So when racing started with the kierin on Saturday, my bike was ready, the legs were there, but my head wasn't in the right place. Throughout the sprints and the kierin, I would look back after every round and think, "why did I do that?" I'd go into sprint rounds with a huge speed advantage and come away with nothing because of a rookie mistake. I'd roll up to the line thinking "the crowds are huge today" instead of blocking out the world and reacting to the rider next to me.

So Portland was a bit of a bust. 5th in the sprints, 8th in the kierin, 2nd in the team sprint. Overall not a terrible set of results, but for a defending champion starting with a stars and stripes jersey it's not what I was looking for. So instead of obsessing over how bad things were I took a few days off to relax with Jenny in the city (much needed), got her to the airport and back to the Springs and started fresh for Seattle.

Seattle was exactly what I needed. I isolated myself, followed my own routine and didn't think about anything but winning the sprints and how I could do it. By race day I was so worked up I could barely speak. I qualified first, and each round went exactly as it should. The crowds were smaller than Portland's but the addition of a beer garden made the track seem twice as loud, and every move seem twice as dramatic. The gold final was between myself and a Mansker. He was the one sprinter who I felt like I was fairly evenly matched with on speed, so I didn't give myself any room for error. The race started clean, I kept control and by the final corner, I came around with enough speed to sit up and enjoy the win.


Now we're back in the Springs and back to training. Nervous days now. Budgets are hammered out, proposals have been sent, now it's just a teeth-grinding wait. My next season of travel hangs on some important decisions being made in air-conditioned buildings, and I want to hear results NOW NOW NOW. But that's not the way it goes.

new battle wagon

yep.

AVC.

Nothing dramatic has happened since Portland. Lots of PR's in the gym and on the bike.

Leaving on a jet plane in T-Minus 8 days.
Happy to be headed back home with Jenny this time. It will be awesome.

So yep.

Word.

DT

hello, portland

Back in the time vortex that is Portland, Oregon. Days disappear here into some other universe. One minute you're walking off the plane and the next minute BAM it's wednesday, you've done two track sessions and a race, but you can't remember either. I've narrowed it down the causes to two alternate explanation encompassing both my previous and current lifestyles.

1: When we lived here previously: Put simply, time flies when you're drunk. This is a severely alcoholic city. I can't hold a conversation with friends here for more than 2 minutes without hearing "have you been to X brewery yet?"
"have you tried the new X Ale from X? It's killer!"
"have you been to X bar yet? We're going to Thursday! You should come with!"
This is a great city to lose it for an evening/night/day or two. So many great places to be, so many great people to be with. It's easy to let days slip by with just the sounds of a pouring tap...

2: This current trip, I'm not drinking, but replacing all drunken hours with workout hours. Today for instance, weight session in the morning, 3 hour ride in the afternoon and a hilly criterium in the evening. In between, eating free food at home, sleeping and trying to stay somewhat hydrated. Sounds like I won't be allowed to leave town without meeting people for a beer at least once (I"m thinking Thursday), but for the most part my days are being smashed out of my head with standing starts and sprints against old rivals.

Speaking of which, PIR was last night. Candi gave me a special welcome home gift. Or maybe a nice-to-see-you middle finger. 18 laps with 18 sprints. What. The. Hell. That hurt. Alot. Won a couple sprints, placed in a couple more and was so tired by the final that I managed to screw everything up completely and roll in for 5th or something. Was definitely hoping for a better showing, but a 300 meter headwind road sprint every 3 miles is not my cup o' tea. It was crazy hard, and crazy hard in a sprint stress week is good.

Picked up two of my custom sets of Rolf track wheels yesterday. They look A M A Z I N G. Possibly the greatest looking hubs I have ever seen. Custom machined splined cogs. One aluminum clincher, one carbon tubular. Can't wait to ride them tomorrow.

DT

p.s. Important message for Pat Bateman: There is now a Muchas Gracias across the street from the track. Taste!

wif moah intensity, prease

So here we are, it's May 24th and the velodrome is still closed under lock and key, in legal limbo. This has been frustrating beyond words. I've missed a month of track training and can't afford to miss another. My short term and long term goals both mean lots of track time and lots of racing. And I'm here trying to make up for it with fixed gear/road bike motorpacing. Better than nothing, but nothing like racing.

So.

The plan.

Fly to stumptown on Monday June 8th and pray for good weather.
Gym work with brian in the early mornings, track workouts every afternoon and road or track racing every evening for 7 days, including the crit on Mississippi and the Heartbreaker at the track.
Fly home an exhausted shell of a track sprinter, ready for a few days off and some more road training.
Fly into a rage in the middle of a board meeting at the USOC if the track doesn't open in July.
Fly back to Portland to do another marathon session of heavy track work and two AVC's.

Tickets are paid for (sort of. credit cards are scary), dates are set.

By then my season will officially begin. Trying not to blow myself apart before the carnivals in Australia come December, so it's a late start and fingers crossed that the skinny roadies don't spend all the team's cash on donuts and Land Rover parts. If all goes well it's an autumn of sixdays and a winter of UCI points. London 2012. Onward and upward, with or without the usoc.
DT

judo CHOP!

So this one is definitely interesting.
Mike lost his room at the OTC last fall (for purely administrative reasons, which are still pretty murky). So after a long, drawn out battle, he's now living in California, trying to figure out what to do next, and now USOC is publishing a video he made with another athlete about "resident life."

The Mike and Myles Show

It's pretty funny actually. I would never wish Mike ill, but it's pretty funny to see a track cyclist get thrown around by an elite Judo guy twice his size.