A win and a loss. But all win.

Chalk up another weekend devoted entirely to a cycling lifestyle.

Frank, Djonn, and myself piled into the LeSabre Limited and sped to Washington Park in Chicago on Saturday for Bandit Cross #3. During the neutral lap I wasn't so sure I liked the course. Narrow, gravelly footbridge, a set of three large steps, two iron gates that barely accomodated the width of my handlebars, and a stepping stones across a swampy moat. I started in the lead to try to apply pressure immediately but hadn't quite memorized the route and found myself needing to backtrack and catch back up to the leaders. Not a good start. I spent three or four laps chasing back onto the lead group, taking my time but still worried about somebody getting away. Then spent a lap or two sitting on, wondering who would crack first. I didn't have a whole lot of throttle left but I came around Deuce on the fast paved section and then timed things right so that I snuck in front of a lapped rider going through the gate so I'd try to gap him off a bit at the bottleneck. From there it was cruise control and people got smaller in the rearview and I started worrying about pinch flatting on the stone water crossing. Tubulars are on my shopping list for CX for sure. Ended up winning two of three stages and took second in the series. Djonn made 'em see stars and took fourth. I still don't think Frank is convinced this is much fun.



Here's a photoset, or you could read the official BKB press release.

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On Sunday was GDVC #2. I stayed up front for most of the first half of the race, wanting to stay out of trouble and be able to go along with any promising moves. That was probably overly optimistic since nothing had been sticking and I'd have been better off staying a little more sheltered from the brutal wind. I was feeling a bit stretched until close to the end of the race, but when we were shown four laps to go I moved back up with relative ease. I glued myself to a wheel I thought would be a good choice to sprint around and stayed in good position for the last couple of laps. At some point near the bell lap it occurred to me that where in the past I had usually been stuck farther back, this time I was actually positioned pretty well. However, somebody jumped with half a lap to go and since I was desperately trying not to be swarmed and lose my hard-fought position, I followed. That guy blew up and I was again faced with sitting up and possibly being swarmed, so I figured I'd try something new and just go for it. I put my head down, came around the second-to-last corner, and hit a brutal headwind. Halfway down that straightaway I blew up and could barely limp back to the finish line as nearly everyone came around me. I'm happy though, because at least I made a bold (if foolish) move, and I'm pretty sure I'll now know instinctively to never be in that position again. Better to try and fail than to not try at all, sometimes.

Rolling up to the finish line I saw the aftermath of a crash that my failed move had allowed me to miss completely.



That's what breaking a collarbone looks like.

A Solid Week.

It's been another busy week but the sudden lack of inclement weather and abundance of sunshine has allowed me to clock a respectable amount of saddle time. Group ride on Tuesday, I was sprinting and climbing with ease. Yesterday I headed west after work, starting off with some climbing and then let the tailwind blow me west to Mazo as I kept the pain meter high. Almost vomiting lets me know I did it right. The perfect culmination of riding quality and quantity has allowed me to transcend physical existence, none of this is real anymore. I'm packing more life into a minute than everyone else. The legs are tired in a way that you know they'll bounce back twice as strong.

Tomorrow is Bandit Cross #3. Coming off a victory in the first one, I'll be looking to carry some momentum and good form into this one despite a hard week. Racing in Chicago is always fun.



Sunday is GDVC #2. My first WCA crit of the year. I have a pretty good idea of who's looking strong and what I want to do, so confidence and aggressiveness will be on my side.

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The Cognition train is plugging along nicely, we've got some things in the works and many more ideas waiting to be executed. It can only get better, I just wish I had more time to devote.

Can we just have some nice weather already? Looks like another indoor session on the trainer tonight. I haven't yet watched the Tour of Flanders, so although I know what happens it'll still be some excitement while I ride.

When I got home from work yesterday I was cheered up by a tiny snowman standing in a yard two houses down from mine. Complete with carrot nose, stick arms, and a surprisingly expressive mouth. A good reminder that you make your own fun, regardless of things outside of your control.



Leaving the house this morning I saw that my snow buddy's mood had changed since I last saw him.



It might be a bit hard to see in the photo, but he's been pissed on. Twice.
What kind of person lets their dog pee on a cute little snowman that some kid took the time to make in their yard? Kurt Vonnegut would probably have something to say about it, but sadly he's not around anymore.

Bandit Cross #1

Flying the BKB colors solo in the first of three Bandit Cross races, I showed up to Garfield Park in Chicago and found myself amid broken glass, used condoms, angry geese, plywood barriers, and about ten other adventurous souls. The opposition was in various states of preparedness, from slick-tyre'd track bike riders fresh off the street to serious 'cross rigs and everything in between. Frank came along, giving cyclocross a try, and Brent also got talked into racing on his fixed with way-too-high gearing.

For the first lap I sat in about third, sizing up the competition. I recognized two riders as definite contenders, and many riders were unknown to me, so I was hoping to just hold onto some wheels for a while and see how things played out. Cale was apparently still trying to exorcise some demons from his lungs and wasn't feeling very well. Ben seemed to be softpedaling coming into lap number two, so I let my momentum carry me into the lead and I rode my own pace. I would find out later that he rolled his tubular off the rim multiple times, so was out of contention. The next time I looked back there was nobody in sight. I had visions of blowing up half way through the race and getting swarmed, but when the cycling gods grant you some luck you have to put your head down and go.

I had good legs and was flowing smoothly through the barriers and twisty sections, and before I knew it I was coming up behind people. Still not sure it was in the bag and not wanting to risk anything, I kept the cruise control on and avoided trying to grab dollar bills out of PBR cans. The laps ticked down and seemed shorter and shorter as I increasingly enjoyed being at the front end of the race. Riders steadily abandoned, often discouraged by their equipment and wondering why they got talked into this in the first place.

After I lapped the second-place rider and having seen most everybody else from behind on multiple occasions, I was fairly sure that this would be my day. I allowed myself a satisfying but hopefully humble looking double fist-pump as I crossed the line for the last time; honestly, how many times in the average rider's career do they cross the line with both arms in the air in any kind of race? I'll enjoy the morale boost when I can, whether by strength or fortunate circumstance.





Cale set, Julie set, link.

Edit: more pics.