live rounds

Internet access, finally. The yardstick of civilization. No internet at the hotel, so Kelyn and I are spending our day off wandering around Hobart (Tas' only major city) and have wandered straight into a internet cafe, into 3 coffees too many and probably into a steep bill after my little "me me me!" screed is done.

So anyway. About me. My first ever Tasmanian christmas carnival is done and dusted. Latrobe: check. What's that phrase athletes tend to throw out when they've been beaten senseless? Ah yes... "I learned alot."

For instance.
I learned not to ride a 95in gear for a 200m on a pan-flat windy track. I was off 5th, so I kind of had to wing it on gear choice and came up nil. The 200m times ended up being similar to a fast day on Alpenrose (slowest track on the planet), so when I couldn't muscle the 95 up to speed, I "learned something."

I learned that no matter how many times you put on sunscreen, you will get a sunburn in Australia. If you're a fair-skinned Portlander raised under cloudcover, you will fry when riding in circles under the hole in the Ozone layer. No matter what you do.

I learned that a Tasmanian wheelrace is simultaneously the most confusing, exhausting, sketchy, stupid-hard, death-defying race there is. And that was just the heats. I never figured it out well enough to qualify for either of the finals, but the heats were challenge enough. Just making it into a final by the end of this will be a big deal.

I learned that the Tasmanians are pretty cool people. The UCI officials will say "no collusion!" while the Tassie organizers are telling you how it really is so you might have a fighting chance.

I learned that Tasmanians love their carnivals. A sold out crowd of several thousand were in the stands watching us skinny US geeks get "learned." The spectators are great.

I learned that these Australian Olympic riders are not human beings. They are alien cyborgs that eat wallabies and kangaroos in one bite, have rocket booster packs under their skinsuits and can't process things like "fear."

I learned the Japanese are pretty much the same, but with more interesting hair.

I learned that despite being an alien cyborg, Shane Kelly can loves Borat just as much as I do, and is a pretty cool guy.

Anyway. That's the condensed version of the latrobe carnival. The little counter at the bottom of the screen says :12 minutes - 5 dollars: so in conclusion, I'm having a great time, never gone this hard in my life, hurting real bad but hopefully improving, didn't make any finals so not in contention for anything but tomorrow's a new day a new track and I'm out.

DT

holding patterns

Three more days till racing starts. Three more days. All I've been doing the last few days is riding and resting. Not much else.

Had one day of racing at Manukau Bowl, dirtiest track in New Zealand. 6k scratch race, 1k handicap heats and final, 500m scratch and a long points race. Still had a 95inch gear on, but who has time for a gear change these days? Just as I pulled my shorts on, they were calling A grade riders to the rail. Last time I was here, I learned the valuable lesson that warmups are for suckers, so the scratch worked well to get the day started. The big man-gear was tough to push but got me most of the way through, until the poo hit the fan and the skinny guys had their way. The 3 lap handicap went a bit better. I'm not used to handicaps, and Tas will be full of them, so I felt a bit of jitters for the first time in months as I rolled up to my mark.

::Handicap Crash Course::
A handicap (a.k.a. "wheelrace" or "gift") is a standing start scratch race. Riders are "graded" based on past performances, speed, skill and the whims of the promoter. While most traditional races are restriced to categories (elite, a grade, b grade, etc.), anyone can ride a handicap. Olympians and first-timers can end up in the same heat. To make things fair, the Olympians and the bad dogs start the race at the exact race distance. If it's a 1k, they start 1k from the finish line (with laps). This is called riding "on scratch" or being a "scratchmarker." A rider with slightly less speed or experience will start a few meters in front of the bad dogs. Mid-level elite hacks like myself might start 50 meters in front of the Olympians, while beginners will start 150 to 200 meters in front of the scratchmarkers. Therefore when the gun goes off, the lesser riders have less distance to cover, giving them a legitimate shot at beating the scratchmarkers to glory and a big fat check. It's a full-on super-dangerous effort from start to finish.

So we line up for our handicap. I'm off 30 meters in front of a junior world champ and a well known NZ sprinter dude. The gun goes Bang and I look around for a second and kind of go "eewah?" before I realize I should probably go now so I do. Big start to get over the 95inch gear and I get moving, get through the field and on through to the final. The final also makes me weirdly nervous even though it doesn't really mean anything. The scratchmarkers are the same, I'm still at 30 and we have to catch 160m or riders. Another big start, big enough to leave the scratchmarkers behind, never to catch up, I come up on the lead group with one to go and it's 6 wide around the final bend. Fast as I can turn the toobig gear, I can only make it to 4th, trying to come around the field on the rail.

Felt good about that. Out of the money, but on the right path. The 500 meter standing scratch should have been my big one, but that's when I checked my tire pressure and saw my rear tubular delaminating in my hands. F!&K!. No spares, no neutral wheels. Guess it's time to call it a night and buy a new tire instead of a christmas present...

As for now, time to climb back on the bike.
DT

pitchers

MT Eden Village. Our hood.


Wisconsin is the shizzle, apparently.


Edible heaven, lightly fried and wrapped in the paper of joy.


These tires are so great. I love them. They will complete 2 track sessions like nobody's business. On the third ride they will self-destruct faster than a bottle rocket, but what else would you expect from a tire that only costs a hundred bucks? Everyone knows you need to dump your entire savings to get any quality in the bike industry, so who am I to critisize?


You can't see the wonderfully phalic snorkel air intake very well in this awful picture, but this car is the mechanical equivalent of that guy you see walking around town in 100 degree sun wearing combat boots, leather pants, and a knee-length black leather trenchcoat that barely covers his cheeto-fueled beer belly.

DT

too much time, not enough time

Ah, the comfort of routine. Even on temporary stay in a country on the other side of the planet it's easy to find a routine. The bike racer lifestyle demands it. Wake up to the sounds of a raging screaming 8 year old. This kid Tom is like Calvin (from calvin & hobbs) without the good intentions. Coffee, food, kit up and roll down to the waterfront. The waterfront on Mission bay is the ultimate morning spin. A perfect 90 minutes, mostly flat, full of people and sights that are easy to look at and duplicated every day. Ride along Mission Bay and you do feel like you're miles away from home. Palm trees, outdoor cafes, white beaches, bluish green surf lapping up on people in boardshorts and less... this is not December, is it? Can it be? The ride home takes you through the Auckland Domain, which is a jungle mid-city. Trees that seem older than man, HUGE fronds and ferns. You can't stop looking at all this deep green wildlife stretching above you and you're now drifting to the right side of the quiet road and shit there's a car coming straight at you but it's not his fault and he lets you know with his horn which snaps you out of your tourist stupor, you ride home and straight to the fridge.

The rest of the afternoon is spent at coffee shops and on couches, trying not to think too much about the evening workout ahead.

Track racing tonight, Mint Chicks concert Saturday. Had a run-in with the Mint Chicks last time. Turns out that my favorite Kiwi band is a couple of months away from becoming one of my favorite Portland bands. Been reading local music rags and lately everyone can't stop moaning about the spazz-rockers ditching thier bassist and heading for wetter pastures in PDX. Can't wait to see them play in town after they find a bassist a following and a regular spot at Tube.

If the video above is not showing up on your automated electric computing figure generator box, click here.
DT

dinosaur comic of the day

took the camera on the morning ride

Good art doesn't always live in a gallery.



I suppose you could consider this art. Like the art that I made when I was six years old and stuck in the grip of ADD. Let's cover this house with glue, throw a shitload of lumber at it and paint the whole thing black. At least this one has windows unlike...


This house is ugly in the way that Las Vegas sucks. It's stupidly expensive, completely impractical, dark inside and isn't really as impressive as the builders hoped it would be. Looks about as comfortable as living inside a casket.



Maybe this is what happens when you admire the two above houses, read too many design magazines but have neither the cash or the drive to see a project like that though to its end. This is the housing equivalent of a teenage girl wearing neon underwear on the outside of her jeans.

After I got back to the house, Baxter/Whiskey/Meatface the boxer/german shephard dog mauled me until I took his picture.

So here he is. In all his glory.


Baxter/Whiskey/Meatface plays rough.

DT

tuesday list

Songs you should be listening to, should you find yourself wandering around Auckland on a warm, overcast and somewhat humid day in December with 5 hours to kill.

"Ballad of Jim Jones" - Brian Jonestown Massacre
"A Warning To The Curious" - The Coral
"Zurich Is Stained" - Pavement
"El Chupa Nibre" - Dangerdoom
"The Worst Taste In Music" - The Radio Department
"Down Boy" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
"Walk On The Wild Side" - Lou Reed
"Back 4 You" - Jurassic 5
"Sentimental Man" - The Dismemberment Plan
"Good Morning" - The Dandy Warhols
"Kiss Kiss" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

DT

Slow news day on the island.

DT

kia ora

I hate that flight. I hate it so bad. Air New Zealand does a great job of making things as comfortable and pleasant as possible, but there's only so much you can do for a 14 hour flight. Anyway. Stumbled out of the plane and into Andy Small's tiny compact car, where we drove at top speed straight to the corner cafe for a kickass breakfast and coffee.

Nothing beats taking off from Portland under rainy 40 degree skies and rolling out the door the next day in Auckland wearing a sleeveless jersey and shorts for a ride along the waterfront. Nothing beats it. Except maybe more coffee after that.

My favorite Kiwi spazz-rock band The Mint Chicks plays on Friday. Excellent timing indeed.

Off to the store for some camera batteries and food food food.

DT

the flying meatball victorious

That right kids, hot off the press, fresh off the blackberry txt vines from Des in the Kung Pao General Tso Velodrome in Beijing, Mike Friedman won the World Cup scratch race. Sounds like he didn't actually win it, he annihilated everyone in his path with a solo breakaway that would make Armstrong himself shed a single tear of joy. Not that we care that much what a skinny millionaire roadie thinks anyway, but cool stuff regardless, eh? Good thing too, as Meatball seems to be the only US trackie that isn't deathly ill. Sickbay thus far: Jennie Reed, out. Michael Blatchford: So out he couldn't even make in out of the springs. Bobby Lea: Down and out in a chinese hospital. USAC needs to find another cook, maybe start distributing Flinstones vitamins...

DT

our town could be your life

So it's been a while, eh? Feeling pretty ill at the moment, so I've kicked out of work early and now have time to burn, and I will burn it in your face.
Walker The Stalker has come and gone for his November Crappy Weather and Sad People Tour. A note for anyone looking to come to Portland for a pleasant vacation and some loose partying with people of the fairer sex: Don't come in late November. It's wet, it's cold and everyone's either studying for finals or suffering through the first waves of seasonal affective disorder.

Anyway, we went to the Doug Fir to see a pair of kick-ass dance-rock bands last Friday. The bands played well, they sounded great and yet everyone stood there like a bunch of slackjawed invertebrates, hands in pockets, eyes to the floor. Come on, you paid 13 bucks to see two party bands. Two bands whose sole purpose is to get stupid hipsters to dance and you're too cool to even nod your hoodie-covered head? Fakc. Lame. Jenny and Walker and I rocked out despite the cool kids. We won the night.

Open note the the US Gran Prix of Cyclocross promoters: Next year let us run the show. They came to town with all thier "rules" and "fees" and stuffy pro-ness and damn near crushed the Portland cx spirit. Rider attendance for the Alpenrose Crusade race was over 1000. Rider attendance for the USGP barely topped 400. Crowds were okay but not great. Someone said to me "i thought portland cross was supposed to be a big deal." It is, but only when it's on our terms...

DT

back into the light

So I crawled out from under the rock I was hiding under and ended up at a different shop, worrying about money and speed. Not the smokable, snortable, injectable speed, but the kind that's all relative and pretty tough to come by. I'm committed (plane tickets in hand) to racing the Christmas Carnival track races in Tasmania this year, so speed is something I don't have yet but I'll need in big quantities. So now instead of riding home after work I'm riding up cemetery climbs and down deserted streets doing all kinds of efforts.

Yeah, and then there's the money part. Thanks to a generous race promoter and a pair of generous parents, the plane tickets are paid, which leaves me with food and transport in the country to try and cover. Nothing like running out of money in a foreign country to make you race hard for prize money.

Cool thing about all this is that it ended up being cheaper to fly into Auckland a week before the racing, get some warm weather training in, do the carnivals, then fly back to Auckland for a week of warm weather recovery before I fly home.

So that's the plan. Game on.

I found a wonderful "i feel so superior" blog. Bike Snob. Check it out, revel in his literary ninja-skills and instantly feel better about yourself.

How not to win a madison.

DT

For those that didn't know him, this is Brett. Brett was a great friend to not just me, but everyone he had ever met. He riding his bike south on Interstate around 12:30 yesterday when a garbage truck drove past, and turned in front of him. He was headed downhill at the time, carrying alot of speed. He had no room to stop when the truck turned in front of him and took the corner. Brett was killed.

Brett was unconditionally nice. Seeing him with anything other than that goofy smile on his face was rare. Brett worked sales next to me at the Gallery. He did well selling bikes not because he could rattle of specs and weights and material names and suspension designs and all that. He was good at what he did because people knew that he was truly happy to be helping them with a bike. Customers knew that Brett was not a "salesman," he just wanted people to be happy.

He was a great racer. Not in the sense that he had an impressive list of victories or a signature "move" or something. He was great because he pushed himself and had a great time doing it. I watched him achieve his finest result on Sunday, 3rd in the singlespeeds at the Cross Crusade at Rainier HS. I saw every lap, and could tell that he had finally found his limit. He was riding right there, right up next to it. No reserves, holding nothing back. He fucking went for it. After it was all over he knew he had given everything, and was so happy he looked like he would burst at any moment. He could have finished 300th instead of 3rd and I think he would have looked the same, knowing he had ridden to his true maximum physical capacity. He didn't take off to shower and recover after he finished. He stayed to cheer on his friends who had yet to race, and to be with his friends that already had.

A world that allows a perfectly good person like Brett to die before his time doesn't make any sense. My heart goes out to Sarah.

I'll miss you buddy. We all will.

DT

man i'm hungry

there is no better way to kick back after a hard cross race than with...

And now a bear stuck in a bridge.







all of todays entertainment stolen from How To Avoid The Bummerlife.

not much more than meets the eye

Yeah, I finally saw Transformers. Guess what? It rules.
Optimus Prime kicks ass, just like he did when I was a kid. The human dialogue and backstory wasn't just bad, it was painfull. It was awefull. It was excruciating. The auto-bot and Deceptacon dialogue was obviously bad, but it was bad in the same way it was in the show, cause you know, robots are not so good with the syntax, remember? So it's not really bad, it's gloriously silly.

Anyway. The movie is 2 hours and 15 minutes long. At least 45 minutes of that could be cut out and left in Hollywood. Pretty much all the non-transforming bits of people going bla bla bla, i'm an acqward high school kid, bla bla bla unrequited love, bla bla bla, i knew you really loved me bla bla bla bla bla. As much as I cringed and heckled through these parts, I was smiling ear to ear during the bad-ass transformer battle sequences. They are massive, sprawling triumphs of modern special effects, they are rediculous and totally perfect. As we left the Mission theater, the 4 people I was with all agreed that it was retarded, but my inner 8 year old was screaming "I WANNA GO AGAIN!"

DT

wrapped up like an dead fish

Nationals and 2007 are finito. Complete. Done. Over with. The cycling end is done. Had a slightly better showing in the kierin, but still couldn't escape the reps and the minor finals. Attended a small end of season party at a super-posh condo by Redondo beach. We drank too much Pacifico, toasted with Veuve Clicquote and watched Ricky Bobby twice.

Now it's back to the gym, back to the fridge and out to the cross races for some spectating, wound scrubbing and broken bone stabilizing. I'm taking the day of the singlespeed CX world's off, as I need at least one race to be that beer-soaked shirtless guy jumping around screaming at my racing friends and throwing Cozy Shack at people. Looking forward to it.

DT

200m

Everything I could've done wrong, I did. 12.01 on an indoor board track and qualified 23rd. Only top 12 went to the rounds, so it was a short day. 3 months after I did a 10.6 outdoors. I'm out of the team sprint.
Not many funny jokes i can make about that one.

crappy luck and robot wisdom

Quite the morning in LA. The sun's strugling to get through the brown sky, but still managing to get everything up to a nice 85 degrees. Huge cannonball run Sunday night at top speed to get to LA before the sun rises and the track opens. Saw nothing but torrential rains and white lines until we rolled through Sacramento. Finally arrived in LA around 4:30am. Driving in Los Angeles is like running the Indy 500 in a Toyota van. Same amount of cars as Portland rush hour, but spread across 6 lanes, everybody doing at least 90mph, and everyone using at least 3 lanes at a time.

stupid gates...

Had a rough morning in the standing 250tt yesterday. Legs felt great, bike felt great, everything was going well until I sat down in front of the gate. This start is crucial. I have one lap to prove that I can start fast enough to ride second behind Blatchford in the team sprint. So the countdown begins, gets down to 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO and I'm sideways. Not sure if I jumped too fast and got ahead of the gates or if one of the gate arms didn't release completely, but either way, I avoided going down by a whisker and ended up aimed uptrack. Not so good. Got back on it and after that everything fired perfectly, but Des said I lost between 3 and 4 tenths because of the horrible start. Ended up with a 19.1, same time as last year. So had I not missed the start, maybe would have ended up around 18.7 or 18.8, good for third. Either way, fast enough to stay in the team sprint, so Saturday's the big day.

Seemed like a tough day for most of the NW contingent. Heather wasn't happy with her 500, Beardsley didn't like his kilo, The Mantis' team pursuit team fell to Rock and Republic for the silver after one of the four riders drops off only halfway in. Good thing this is only the first day. Plenty of events left to go.

Sprints are today. Gambling a bit on the gear, riding something relatively small, so we'll see how that one goes.

DT

This is my least favorite part of the season. At this point there is nothing I can do to get faster by next week, I can only maintain what I have right now. A horrible feeling for sure. I'm excited about nationals for sure, but at the same time I'd rather stay in bed with the covers up to my eyes and the blinds shut tight... So I'll keep my mind off of it. Walker The Stalker may be jetting over to the states for a little R&R from law school. Sounds like an idea and a half to me. Would be great to see the guy again.
Got some wedding pics finally. Awards will be forthcoming.
DT

the indoors are a load of hooey

Abiqua falls: somewhere outside of Silverton...


winding up for a big jump





tubin'


getting some altitude...


...and losing it quickly


And on to the beach. Camping in pirate country.








on the trail to Cape Falcon