5/31/2010: Remembering

Today marks the 5th anniversary of Scott Kornfield's untimely death. A truly sad day for those of us on the team and in the community who knew him.

I'd like to recall a fond memory, which occurred a couple weeks later. A woman who was moved by the tragic story organized a 'Ride of Silence' for Scott. Meeting out at the Seagate building north on 95th, the 10-mile route traced a rectangle along the rolling roads out there. The pace was very pedestrian - we covered the 10 miles in about an hour. When I stopped at one point on the ride and looked back, I was amazed at how long the procession of riders was. It extended for literally a half-mile or more. A few of us estimated that somewhere around 500-600 riders of all walks of life showed up.

When it was time to start the ride, I gave a short speech and then we rolled out of the parking lot. Riding in silence, aside from being a challenge, ended up being cathartic. I did my best to find a bunch of different people and do nothing more than wave at them or share a quick squeeze of the hands before moving on. At the end of the ride, people milled around, chatting about Scott, about life. Remembering. I hadn't planned on riding at all. I hadn't been back on my bike since Memorial Day. But, when I heard Scott's widow was going to ride, I felt I had no choice. If she was going to be there, then I was definitely going to be there, too.

As Lori and I prepared to load our bikes back on our bike rack, Andy Johnson came up. He said that a small group of guys was going to ride back to Louisville and asked if I wanted to join them. I really didn't. I looked at Lori. She gave me a look of encouragement and a gentle nudge. So I said OK. It wasn't that far; I'd be back home in about 40 minutes or less. We set off at an easy pace and meandered our way to the Diagonal, by Airport Road. As we turned south on the Diagonal, Andy came by the slow-moving paceline on the outside, passed me by, looked over his shoulder and gave me one of his looks that said, "C'mon, bud. Hop on my wheel. This is what you're meant to do. Enjoy THIS!" My brain threatened to analyze, but I shut it down cold. I reacted.

I jumped out of the paceline and sprinted up to Andy's wheel, then past him. Then Mike Hogan came by me, and someone came by him. And the race-pace echelon was underway. Metaphorically, I felt released, like I had just shrugged off a stack of 45-lb freeweight plates. The liberation of that moment was indescribable. Still is and tears well up in my eyes, even now.

When Lori had picked me up at the site of the accident and we prepared to drive away, a female state trooper stopped us. Lori rolled her window down and the trooper asked us if we wanted my bike. It was still where I had thrown it down in the middle of Hwy 36. Through the windshield I stared at it like a zombie. Lori put the car in park and retrieved it. It then collected dust in the garage until the 'Ride of Silence'.

I have to give Andy a deep and heartfelt "thank you" for that day. He knew what I needed more than I did. He single-handedly sparked the ember to rekindle my passion for riding. I'll never forget that.

Thanks, Andy.

Nate

5/27/10: Floyd Landis

First off, this post is not about whether or not I think anybody implicated by Landis is innocent or guilty. Because I don't know.

My question is this: Why is anybody or any organization (like the UCI) giving Landis any shred of credibility? Landis is an admitted swindler, cheat and liar. He's provided no proof to back up his allegations. Yet, all of these so-called investigations have been launched to "look into" his allegations.

Investigations are great. If they are warranted. So, why not say, "Sure, Floyd, we'll definitely look into all this. Once you provide us with proof, we'll get right on it. Until then, crawl back in your hole."

This reeks of some sort of PR damage control, given what the sport has put itself through the past decade-plus. The UCI launches its investigation and urges all of the relevant national governing bodies to do the same. Yet, it stresses that the launching of the investigations "in no way" is an indication of guilt or wrong-doing by anybody who Landis has implicated.

Really? So far, this appears to be a case of guilty until proven innocent. And, given the voracity of the claims and the lack of credibility involved, I'm surprised so much time and attention is being given to Landis considering he has not offered one shred of proof to-date.

Again, I have no idea who might be innocent or guilty here. If Landis does bring forth damning evidence against anybody, then that person should definitely be investigated and punished (if applicable). But until such time as Landis sufficiently fulfills the burden of proof, all we're seeing is a waste of time, resources and money. All in the name of PR damage control.

My 2 cents.....
Nate

5/16/10: Sunshine HC

A little late here. Apologies.

Slow start to the season given the really weird weather we've had here in CO. Mid-May and I've raced 3 times. Go figure.

The Sunshine HC almost didn't happen, too. The week of the race, we experienced snow (a lot of it!) and multiple days of rain. The climb is just over 9 miles and averages nearly 8% - a real ball busting grind. The final 3+ miles are on dirt and there are a couple sections in excess of 20%. The threat was that the race would need to be shortened and end at the top of the paved section if the roads couldn't absorb all the week's moisture.

After raining the day before the race, the morning of dawned clear but cold. As I drove over to the race venue, my car thermometer registered 38-40 degrees. The temp at the start was 42. Up top it was going to be quite a bit colder, so it was imperative to send some clothes up in the support vehicle for the bone chilling (and jarring) ride down.

The Pro/1/2 field was bigger and deeper than it was for the Lookout Mtn HC two weeks prior. Taking the lessons learned from Lookout, I was determined to sit in for as long as possible, then survive to the top. When the gun went off, the field took off like a shot. I was pretty amazed at how fast the race was from the get-go, given the road starts really pitching up at the 2-mile mark. Pushing 350+ watts, I figured either the pace would slacken soon or I would blow up. Thank goodness the pace slackened.

I was feeling fairly comfortable in the middle of the pack. About 2.5 miles into it, just past the Poorman Rd. turn-off, the road steepens and stings the legs something fierce. The effort required to stay on the front took me to 350-400w and lasted nearly 4 minutes. But, the effort has a definitive end, given the road relents for a few minutes right after this pitch. I focused on collecting myself, slowing my breathing down and letting the legs recover to prepare for the next acceleration.

We hit the crest of the paved climb in just over 26 minutes. We were absolutely flying! Just over 30min into it, I had to allow myself to fade off the back. The dirt is immensely harder than the paved road, so if you're blown at the top of the paved section, you're hosed. I wanted to settle in to my own rhythm the final 18min or so.

Overall, the dirt was surprisingly OK. It was really slow given how tacky it was from being saturated. A couple times it literally felt like someone was pulling on my jersey and slowing me down as the dirt sucked on my tires. Some portions were firm, others were soggy. And still others were downright drowned in standing water (luckily, the dirt beneath the standing water was firm; the challenge was navigating the submerged potholes).

I settled in with another rider who had a teammate 100m up the road. So he sat on my wheel (understandably so). I tried to get tactical and get him to pull through - really slowed down, weaved back and forth across the road, and so on. I lost focus on "going for a PR" in my attempt to get a reprieve and a breather. No such luck (again, understandable). What I did accomplish was letting the guy's teammate get a bigger gap on us. Eventually the gap was big enough so we could not catch him. That's when the guy on my wheel decided to pull through and drop me heading into the final rise to the finish line.

Regardless of this inefficient riding on the dirt, I still set a PR. Surprisingly. Felt pretty good about my race. Ended up 15th, but still felt limited when things really heated up. Still some work to do!

The descent was absolutely frigid! The legs felt really good, so I headed over to Flagstaff and pushed it up to the amphitheatre at 301w, then headed over to Long NCAR at 312w to round out the day. Hopefully the additional 30min or so of hard climbing will help come Evans.

Ride safe,
Nate

5/1/10: Lookout Mountain Hill Climb

Lookout Mountain sits south of Boulder, at the northern outskirts of Golden, a short 30min drive from my door. The 4.5-mile climb is not nearly as challenging as myriad climbs in Boulder - Flagstaff, NCAR, Magnolia, Sugarloaf, Sunshine.... but therein lies the danger. In taking fewer than 20min to complete, it is very easy to start out too hard and get smashed by a piano as few as 5min into the race. The key is to race hard but within yourself so that when things heat up the final 5-7min, you've got the juice to keep pressing. If you're in survival mode at that point, the race is over for you.

After some terrible riding weather for more than a week, Saturday dawned clear and crisp. Just about a perfect day for racing. The Pro/1/2 squad took off first at 8am sharp, so I met my buddy Andy J. and we drove out to the race site together. We also received our new team kits this particular morning after way - WAY - too many headaches, so we were all excited to be sporting the new designs. It was truly awesome to see so many Feedback kits before the race and then heading up/down the mountain! The white background is super sharp and very easy to spot. Perfect for a day of overall success for the team at many levels.

Given how cold it was and how short the race is, proper warm-up was critical. You gotta be ready to go from the gun. As I began my race-specific surges, I felt awful. I had been too cold for too long and my body was constricted. Slowly but surely, things opened up and the surges got stronger and felt much easier. Training has been going very well, so my confidence was pretty high.

I headed over to the start line and lined up next to Kevin Nicol, the only guy I recognized in the whole bunch. Nicol is a 40-something, perennial P/1/2 racer who is also one of the top climbers in the sport. I looked down and saw he was in his big ring, and thought that things were going to be explosive from the start. I clicked down a few gears in anticipation of this. The starter gave us the "1-min till start!" warning. A quick assessment; I was ready.

The starter sends us off and I stomp on the pedals. And find myself right on the front. "OK, so we're not blazing a trail off the start line." On the front is not where I want to be, so I ease off and start trying to settle in. The pro category is a funny one. Even a 20min race gets turned into a tactical cat-and-mouse. "Racing for time" in anything but a time trial is a foreign concept. I'm reminded of races on the running track where guys who can run in the 26-min range for a 10k are winning tactical snore fests in 29 with a blistering last lap or two. I gotta get used to this mentality.

Had this been a steady state effort, my goal was to shoot for 330-340 watts. During the first 5min, I'm seeing more in the 230-280 range. The pace is pedestrian and nobody really wants to lay it down. So, right about 6min, I get squirrelly and attack. All I want to do is kick start things and maybe thin things out a bit. I look over my shoulder, sit down and settle in to an easy effort again. Only no one comes by me. I'm pushing 200 watts and no one wants to come by - are you serious??? I figure I might as well press at that 330-340 range and see what happens, so I do that for a couple minutes. Still, no one comes by. I weave across the road, indicating someone else can come through, but nobody does. Finally, I completely shut down and everybody gets the clue. I fade back a few places and settle in to the maddening sub-par pace.

Then, Kevin Nicol jumps, and jumps hard. I'm sitting fourth wheel or so, and decide to wait for the counter attack, which comes when Nicol has a good 50-meter gap. I click down and jump, hoping that the 2 riders I'm tagging on to and I will round out the top 4. Nicol's lead stretches then hovers. I look over my shoulder and 2 guys are there. Everybody else has dropped off. A few minutes later and another sizzling attack cracks the group into 3 - Nicol just up the road, 2 guys fiercely trying to reel him in, and my group of 3 about 10 seconds back.

The top of the climb is a series of serpentines. In working off faulty memory (this is why you should always pre-ride a race course), I attack the 2 riders I'm with through the first 2 serpentines, believing that the bend to the right spits me out to the finish line. I'm going full gas and hit the second series of bends. "Shit!!!" Went too early and paid the price. The other 2 guys pounced on me with about 400m-500m to go and there was nothing I could do about it. Crossed the line in 6th. Happy with how I felt and the ability to mix it up a bit, but not satisfied with my race brain. Still adjusting to the lack of consistent effort which punctuates the P/1/2 races.

Less than an hour later, I jumped into the 35+ group. This is a tough group of racers, some of whom will jump between the 35+ and P/1/2 categories. Myself and the guy who ended up 2nd in the P/1/2 race both decided to double-up. After hitting a disappointing but understandable 322 watts in my first race, the goal was to be at 300+ for this second effort. The gun went off and the burned rubber started smoking right off the line. I look down and I'm pressing between 360-420 watts. This ain't gonna last and the fatigue from my first race is already apparent 30 seconds in. "More power to 'em," I think and ease off to settle in to a steady effort. I'm pressing but conservatively.

The pianos start to fall and the 800-pound gorillas start to pounce. After only a few minutes, I'm whizzing through the fast starters who are already past their limit and hating life. This spurs me on and I slowly ratchet up pace. A couple times I catch a lone rider who seems to be moving pretty well. I settle in behind him for a quick breather, feel the pace slacken too much, get out of the saddle and soldier on.

About 2/3 of the way up, I find myself surprisingly in 3rd place, and reeling in 1st and 2nd who are working together just up the road. Try as I might, however, I just can't do it. With about 3min to go, they start stretching their lead. I look over my shoulder and there is no one in sight; I've got a lock on 3rd. The legs are shredded but I press to the finish line - this time waiting until the final serpentines to give it everything. Cross the line spent, and happily surprised. I was only about 12 seconds slower this time around and my average watts were identical at 322.

Heading in the right direction. Clearly some things still to learn. Hill climbing is definitely my niche for racing, which is why it is all about Evans.

Ride safe,
Nate