Sunday, April 10, 2011

The Dumbo Helmet at the Calaveras TT

Still looking for pictures........but this is the dumbo helmet.

Not sure why I came up with the name dumbo helmet?

One look at the picture and I'm sure you can take a guess.

Anyrate, when I slip the dumbo helmet over my greasy mop of gnarled hair, I dumb the senses down and just focus on the moment. My universe becomes as narrow as the space between my temples and I meter the pain by holding my effort on the fence of agony and indifference. The effort is brief, as if I'm rushing through a schizophrenic fit and I must fuse the supreme forces of love and anger, frustration and appreciation, and turn the raw explosive violence of my legs into a dance that's as smooth as a babies ass fresh from a Mill Valley spa and treated with the likes of shea butter, rose oil, coconut wax, flax seed oil, Anica and Vitamin D.

How long can I hold the throttle wide open? How long can I endure the pain? How strong am I? What is the freak'n point anyways and why the F#$%^ am I doing this?

get my drift?

I can't even answer my own questions. Maybe that is why Its called the Dumbo Helmet. Maybe its symbolic of our short lives on this planet and what we choose to do with them. What ever the answer...I love time trials and I love my Dumbo helmet.

Today at the Calaveras tt, I was the first looser.....that means I got second. I got second for a couple of reasons.

Roman Kilun is a paid proffesional....and I have a full time Job, therefore he beat me by 33 seconds.

I broke my ribs a month ago and missed out on a bunch of training.

I was a complete sissy in the last 4 miles and said this is good enough.

It hurt and I did'nt want to hurt that bad.

I'm working on it.

Just wait.

One by one I hope to recycle these excuses into pure brilliant speed....and sooner or a god damned race..

until that time.

stay dumb....its better that way.

The dumbo helmet at the half way point.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Criterium

Sticking my nose in it.

We all rode hard.....

It was an L shape course.

It Hurt.

I'm not there yet, but I'm glad my teammates, JMS, FS, the infamous NF and Professor AR.......were having a good ride. They all finished safe and sound, getting in some great crit training with the pros and watching each others backs.

I for the most part felt like a rat in a hamster wheel engaged in a perpetual dash from the start to finish. Each lap was a barbarically obstinate display of wasted energy. My fragile moral was teetering on the void. If I dared to focus on the entire 90 minute task that lay in front of me I might run off into the bushes and cry like a feeble child. My sole purpose it seemed was to complete a lap and do it again as fast as I could without a moment of respite in between. I guess that's the way it should be......surviving the moment and embracing it all at once.

hanging in perpetual motion.

The peloton was alive and I focused on its movements. I visualized it as one giant organism allowing my peripheral senses to guide me into magical lanes that opened at just the right moment. If my senses failed me, I would most likely end up wrapped around the metal dividers, stuck in the gutter, or shredded by the mob of rabid riders behind me and I didn't want to ruing another team kit.

At some point near the end of my obstinate journey I found the path....I saw the light and I went for it...I shot in front of leaders and then rocketed away from them as if they carried the plague. Nirvana, I told myself, lay just around the next corner and my life now finally had meaning. And then, my legs just failed. 150 yards in front of a enraged peloton I cratered like liquid elephant dung with lead sinkers as balast. Then a rider bridged up and passed me..I suffered trying to grab his wheel....and then I suffered even more as I failed to grab his wheel. Two more riders bridged up and past me they went. Then In a full sprint of whatever worthless strength I could summon I threw in a last ditch effort to catch back on to this select group...Head down, standing and stomping on the pedals, I smacked into a glued on raised reflector in the middle of the road and just about ate asphalt in front of the announcer on the finishing straight. I racked my ribs in the process. The ribs that were ailing from when I broke them a few weeks ago......I proceeded to die on my bike suffering for two more laps. Then without hesitation I threw in the towel and resigned myself to the first aid tent.

My lungs were not punctured. So it was just pain. I would live.

I hope to be healthy soon.

The guys all finished......and finished well.

Jesse Miller Smith had an outstanding race. Finishing 36 in the GC not bad considering this is a pro race, and we are a first year amateur team. Good job team.

Frank Spiteri a respectable 47th

Art Rand 72nd

Nate Freed 99th the Lanterne Rouge

Me DNF......I was in it for fitness.

Nate at the wheel.