Throw Your Hands in the Air If You Just Don't Care - Notorious B.I.G.

Although I usually like to refrain from blogging race recapitulations, this past weekend was just too extraordinary—extraordinarily comical—not to.

The weekend of collegiate racing in Grand Junction, CO kicked off for Brad, Dan Workman, Phil and I on Saturday with a road race. Brad and I had been developing grandiose schemes of how, when, and where we were going to blow up the field in the road race. Well, our first plan was on the climb 2 miles after the start, so Brad went to the front and upped the tempo and strung out the field then we hit a left hand switchback as we rode upwards and I got out of the saddle and threw down an attack to string the field out more. We essentially kept the field strung out over the top wherein Dan, Brad, and I took turns covering and initiating breakaways. I followed the acceleration of a Fort Lewis rider and the two of us rode away. We spent the remainder of the roughly 70 miles off the front. Coming into the finish it was just the two of us; our gap over the eventual third place rider was over 4 minutes. We played cat and mouse trying to out-strategize one another for the win, we played the brake check game briefly (we were going so slow because neither one of us wanted to be in the front that we were slamming on our brakes), then I guttered it in the crosswind and just decided that rolling in he would have to come around me windy side in order to sprint and I would be able to sit non-windy side, get the draft and MAYBE get a sprint win. Well, I shall never again gamble on myself in a sprint because I lost the two-up sprint. Next time, I will time trial to the finish and shell the rider I’m with.

Saturday afternoon was a team time trial, which went well. Dan, Brad, a dude named Fuzzy, and myself won convincingly. We put 2 minutes into the second place team over the course of the approximately 10 miles.

Sunday was a criterium in downtown Fruita. Unfortunately, I did not have time to talk to Tater, the mentally impaired, colorful downtown Fruita fixture that is out at the race every year, but as entertaining a fellow as he is, I, unknowingly, was holding onto a ticket to a Sunday matinee of a “dark comedy”. Orders for the criterium were to keep the field together and get the green CSU train rolling to lead out Phil for the sprint victory. With two and a half laps to go I came to the front to start the lead out and took just about a full lap on the front stringing the field out. Apparently our train was a sight to behold as with only two and a half laps left we shredded the field down to half the size it had been. Dan Workman took over with one and a half to go followed by Brad Cole, then Fuzzy, then Dan Lionberg… then Phil. After my job was done, I pulled to the side of the road and waited for Lionberg to barrel out of the final corner with Phil in tow. Sure enough, there they were with a Mesa State rider right behind Lionberg and Phil and a huge gap after them. As Phil sprinted to the line he glanced over his shoulder and only saw Lionberg and started celebrating with 30 meters to go, unfortunately he did not see the Mesa State rider who ended up passing him for the win. Here’s the moment of realization…

Here’s the moment of agony…

But at least it was not as bad as this…

After the race my thoughts immediately shifted to myself and how horrible it was going to be being Phil’s roommate since his dour disposition was something with which I would have to contend. I will now most likely be seeking a new residence after Phil reads this… someone, anyone, please take me in…

Patrick

I Don't Even like Basketball

It’s that time of the year when all of us masquerade as huge basketball aficionados, fill out our brackets and subsequently expose ourselves (no, not like that) as posers. I didn’t make my selections so well—who knew Belmont wouldn’t win the tournament? I surely didn’t (just kidding, I didn’t select them). I did however have Pittsburgh and Kansas in the final; Bob Knight really led me astray on how mentally gritty Pittsburgh was and how they were just going to cakewalk right into the Final Four. Thanks Bob, now MY blood pressure is dangerously elevated. By the way, I could see Michael Ball as the Bob Knight of cycling... he could kick his riders when they displease him, he could throw a chair into the middle of a peloton during a race, let’s face it, the dude is unpredictable.

Anyway, I was in the homemaker mood today—went out and bought a muffin pan and made whole wheat cinnamon banana nut muffins. I have been very disenchanted with the dearth of good muffins here in Fort Collins and figured that I would have to start making them for myself. Nothing holds a flame to the muffins I can get in Boise at Big City Coffee (http://www.bigcitycoffeeld.com/)... Let me know if you know of good muffins in Fort Collins. I hope you’ve had your fill of minutia because I’ve reached my bullshit quota for the day. Cheerio.

Patrick

Life in the Travelling Locker Room

Here's a little taster of what life is like on the road and what happens when people spend too much time together in a van on the way to races...




Andy, our director, and Evan Ruzanski, an old bike geezer, got into a little tussle last year at Collegiate Nationals. We had to pull over the van so that they could "sort out" their differences on the lawn alongside a busy thoroughfare. Luckily it concluded with some ass slapping and bronco riding which really invigorated us onlookers.

In like a Lion, Out like a Lamb

We finished our third day of riding on Thursday in the Valley of the Sun by riding Northwest of Phoenix up in the hills around Lake Pleasant. Our Spring Break Smashfest (No, Phil and I didn’t go to Havasu) ended today; I wound up with a 3h 45min ride while Phil ended it with a 3h ride and some Lactate Threshold intervals. We were feeling a little soft, so neither of us wanted to do the full 4 hours, but that’s what great champions do—when the going gets tough, they pull the plug early. We also "inadvertently" road through a road closure wherein we were subsequently threatened with a $500 fine. Fortunately, Phil diffused the situation after explaining that we were from out of town. I guess the Maricopa County official that admonished us agreed with the implication that as out-of-towners we do not know how to read signs and therefore shouldn't be punished. As for me, I just don't believe everything I read... proof that it is beneficial for Phil to handle these situations. Thursday night we attended a spring match between the Royals of Kansas City and the Brewers of Milwaukee—‘twas a great contest. Phil and I went out in Phoenix with Phil’s DePauw friends later that night, got buzzed, got 4 hours of sub-par sleep, bid Papa Edminister (see prior post) adieu, and we got in the car for Friday's 13 hour slog back to Phil’s grandparents' place in Evergreen, CO.

Today we raced the University of Northern Colorado criterium in Greeley. The collegiate race went decently; our new crit racer Dan Workman got a second place after joining an early break. We raced the pro/1/2/3 in the afternoon and Dan Workman stepped up again joining an early break and finishing the day in fourth while Brad Cole was right on his wheel for fifth. It was a very respectable day for Team Legacy Energy. Needless to say, my legs are feeling the week’s efforts. The end is almost in site… I cap off the week tomorrow with a 5 hour tempo ride in the mountains.

Disclaimer: Even though Phil and I are the only people blogging on here, I swear the rest of the members of Team Legacy do exist.

Patrick

We are having fun...you are stuck in Fort Collins

Honestly, I HATE riding tempo. For non-cyclists this is a level of intensity where the body is far from destroying itself but hard enough where conversation on the bike is a challenge. My genes were not engineered to settle into a pseudo hard pace for hours on end. I instead prefer to go really really fast or snail-like slow. So what does my coach do? That's right, he fabricates my ride schedule to include hours and hours of tempo riding.

I am incredibly gracious and forever indebted to my friends/teammates/lobster-colored chamois-clad partners (Patrick) for their patience with my "tempo" frustration. Because any relationship is all about balance, they understand my need for guidance in this arena and they happily extend their legs to help me get the most from my training.

Please see the next post for Patrick's description of today's objectives and accomplishments. Please keep the aforementioned in mind and recognize that Patrick basically towed me around all day.

I Hate the Desert

So I decided to brave today's ride with SPF 50 sunscreen despite the fact that my legs are a nice cherry red hue from yesterday's massive brain fart (maybe even a shart). I thought maybe I could turn them into a nice crimson color-- I like crimson better anyway. The crimson being from the blood that started seeping out of the 3rd degree burns on my legs... Just kidding, I exaggerated greatly. My legs aren't bleeding, but they are pretty red. Because of my sunburn, I now rescind all the complimentary things I had to say about the desert and would advise people not to move here or visit. Anyway, I digress... Phil (Pocket Rocket, as I have endearingly nicknamed him) and I set off today with the goal of doing 160 km (100mi). We rode 77.5 km out Carefree Hwy onto Cave Creek Rd and climbed out of the valley and into desert abyss. We rode so far into nothingness that there was nothing-- not even paved road. We did 15 km of washboard dirt which truly tested my girlish upper body physique. We then decided we had had enough dirt and we turned around and headed back. I motored across Carefree Hwy and down Lake Pleasant intermittently letting Pocket Rocket out of my pocket for his sprint intervals. We ended the day doing loops in the circular community of Sun City West (which has more golf cart driving elderly folk than I can shake a cane at) just so that we could get to 160 km. I ended up just shy of 4,000 kJ, but thank God I could enhance my sunburn. I must go bathe in aloe vera now. I look happy, but it's a facade...

From the Desert with Reddened Rage,

Patrick

Life in the Desert

Dear Diary,

It has been long since I last posted in you. A lot has been going on... We had our team launch at New Belgium on Thursday, March 13th-- great success! I would estimate there were roughly 75 to 100 supporters that showed up, drank beer, and reveled 'til the wee hour of 10pm.

This past weekend (15th-16th) Brad, Phil, myself, and Dan had a collegiate race to attend in Durango, CO. The Squawker Classic seemed to go alright-- Phil got 2nd/3rd in the crit, Brad got 2nd in the road race, and we got 2nd in the TTT, I won't regurgitate race details but there seemed to be some questionable placings by the officials.

Phil and I were on to better things though as we departed Durango and headed for the warmth of Phoenix to stay with Phil's great grandfather, Time (Just kidding, his name is Kenny Edminster and he's the man! ...but not a Mann). We got a nice 90 mile; 3,400 kJ ride in yesterday, all the while discovering the sweet oasis of Cave Creek, AZ. Today, we are headed back the same direction and into the mountains where I can boost my confidence by pounding Phillip Mann Jr, my roommate, teammate, and sprinter extraordinaire, into the ground. I rather foolishly decided to not wear sunscreen on my legs yesterday and now I look like a lobster. The rest of yesterday we toiled around the pool and laughed at those in Fort Collins suffering through cold rain... (Dan Workman should've come to Phoenix)

From Phoenix with Love,

Patrick

Paaartttyyy!

I will be there putting the P-A-T into the "party". That's right, it has come time for the Team Legacy Energy launch. The event is this Thursday evening, March 13th, at New Belgium Brewery in Fort Collins. The event begins at 6pm and if you find yourself interested contact us and we can arrange to get you onto the list.