The Queen of Streetfairs!

This is the Atlantic Antic.
It was very crowded, and a lot of fun.
Next time, I'm bringing my wallet, and eating a shishkebab.

I couldn't drag my sorry ass out of bed this morning to complete my planned 85-mile ride to Rockland County. Instead, I slept in, wrote some emails, watched a movie on TV, and around 3 o'clock, I headed over to Prospect Park for a self-timed 40-mile Individual Time Trial. After finishing in 1 hour, 50 minutes, I headed over to Atlantic Avenue to visit the Atlantic Antic, Queen of the Street fairs. This is one of those Brooklyn traditions that I was not able to partake in since heading off to college upstate.

There is really no other street in Brooklyn more fitting for the biggest and best street fair in the city. As anyone who's ever visited me in Brooklyn knows, and has heard me say, that Atlantic Avenue stretches from the waterfront in Brooklyn Heights all the way to Kennedy Airport in Queens. Along the way, it shows a cross-section of the city not visible anywhere else. On my end, you have an affluent neighborhood, then an Arabic neighborhood, then the eclectic Flatbush, then Park Slope, along with all of the different people who hang out there. From there, Atlantic Avenue goes deep into Brooklyn, and it's a whole urban melting pot, ten miles long. The crowd at the Antic clearly represents the street's diverse characters.

Although I'm trying to avoid eating the type of fatty foods served at street fairs, I was still looking forward to rolling down the street and smelling the the smells and seeing the sights. Most street fairs in the city, which start in May, and continue until the beginning of October, consist of various vendors selling everything from gyros, to barbecued corn, to handmade sweaters and cheap jewelry. The Antic goes a cut above with live music, and local restaurants serving their food at impromptu sidewalk cafes.

I was mostly looking for my friend Don, who sells his home-baked granola, known as Donola, and sold primarily at health food stores and street fairs. Don moved Maine earlier in the summer, so I knew the chances of seeing him were slim, but I felt compelled to look anyway.

It turns out that he wasn't there, but I did see a funny band outside of the Last Exit. I couldn't tell you what language they're were singing in, but it was a catchy tune and everyone was bobbing and swaying in the street. It was pure Brooklyn fun!

In other news, it looks like Ben Affleck is making a strong showing in my haircut poll! Keep those votes coming in as we enter the last 24 hours of the poll! Check back tomorrow for an analysis of the results, and a new poll!

A Day of Rabbit

Duopoly.
These two control the money.
Today they were a pain in the ass.

All is well here in la la land. I was at work from 10 a.m. until 6 p.m. this evening. Work became very interesting for about 2 hours this afternoon, when The Rabbit's credit card server quit working. Viola! All of a sudden, all of those people lining up to buy shoes found that they were unable to use the little plastic squares that so many consumers rely on for even the smallest purchases.

I did what I usually do when difficult situations arise, and stuck my head into the proverbial sand. With The Rabbit's owner and head IT guy, Lee Silverman, on vacation and out of reach, the rest of us were left to stand around scratching our heads. There were six of us working today, and I figured that five was enough people to work on a problem that not one of us could solve. And besides, even though we were in the midst of the biggest shoe store crisis since The Great Asics Cumulus Overload of two weeks ago, people still came in and wanted shoes. Someone had to fit these people, which is what I did while my head was down in the sand.

Managers eventually decided to record all pertinent information for customer's purchases, and sent them on their merry way, in hopes that we'd be able to run their credit information later in the day.

Although it was a huge pain in the ass, I say that it was just one more great segment in the Jack Rabbit screenplay, being written by my co-worker John. Once finished, the film will be the greatest thing to hit theaters since "Clerks." Imagine this opening sequence: Two young men meet outside of a closed store. One has a bicycle, the other a canvas shopping bag. The man with the bag unlocks the gate, and they enter together. A few moments later, the lights go on in the store, and customers enter.

Cut to inside the store.

A female customer asks the young man who had the bike for a pair of Asics 2120, size 8.5. "Sure," he says, and runs into the basement. Moments later, he walks back upstairs, and with a frown, says "I'm sorry," but they're out of the shoe. In fact, he says, the store only has three women's shoes, a size five and two size elevens.

The woman flies into a rage, and demands to know why they don't have the shoes. The young man attempts to placate her by assuring her that they will be getting more shoes in, in about a week or two. "Fine," she storms, "I'll just get some shorts then." The young man points to where the women's clothes are, but, of course, there are only a smattering of shorts on the vast, empty clothing racks.

The woman flies into another rage that boarders on psychotic, in which she blames the store for her 9.5 pound weight gain, the sub-prime mortgage crisis, and the war in Iraq. At the end of it, she storms out the door. Both young men, who had been listening to her only intermittently, shrug. The one with the canvas bag begins a bit of cleaning. The other picks his nose.

What do you think? Oscar worthy? I think so.

Giving Back

Scott Demel, Lisa Stein, Andrew Bernstein

The check: $700
The feeling: priceless

Today was a long day, as Fridays generally are. I woke up early to ride this morning, then rolled over to The Rabbit for a fun day of selling sneakers. After the work day ended, me and my team mate Scott went to a bike shop in DUMBO called "Recycle-A-Bicycle." (RAB, for short.)

RAB collects old bikes, which they then fix up and sell at low prices to people who wouldn't otherwise be able to buy bikes. They also run bike-repair classes for kids, and run children's rides on weekends. In short, it's a very socially-conscious organization, based right here, in Brooklyn.

Back in June, BVF sponsored an individual time trial out at Floyd Benet Field. The proceeds from that even were to be donated to RAB's kid's rides programs. It took us a few months to recover from the effort of organizing and staging a bike race, but today we were finally ready to make the donation.

After a few last-minute phone calls, and race-pace errand runs on my fixed gear, I met Scott, who is the president of BVF, at the RAB shop, where we posed with RAB Executive Director Lisa Stein, for a ceremonial, and impromptu, hand-off. It was a very good feeling to know that we, as a team, had done something that will benefit the community, and hopefully bring more people into our sport. Our donation of $700 will help to get more kids out on bikes, riding all over Brooklyn and Queens.

RAB is always looking for volunteers to help out with their various programs, so please check out their web site for more information, if you're interested in volunteering.

In other news, I'm going to be incorrigible if more people don't vote in this week's poll. You're running out of time, the new one goes up on Monday!

I'm also going to take this opportunity to beg you to sponsor me in my ride to combat MS. Even a donation as small as 10 cents a mile (total= $10) would make a huge difference. Please contact me at bernstein.andrew@gmail.com if you'd like to sponsor me, or visit my fund raising page. You stay classy, Brooklyn!

Thursday Top and Bottom Five

Hey Everybody!! I'm still here in rainy Saratoga Springs. I had a great ride yesterday with my bros Travis and Narva, and today my friend Dante and I went for a monster 65 mile ride over two huge passes. Here's the Top and Bottom
from the week:

Tops
1) Becky's visit to Brooklyn, and our afternoon in the city, especially our visit to the Central Park Zoo.
2) Coming "home" to Saratoga, enjoying laughs and rides with my friends here.
3) It was so good I'm going to say it again: riding in Saratoga, no laps here!
4) Selling the $165 Saucony Paramount on Tuesday.
5) Tuesday's early morning ride in Central Park... it's a total different scene.

Bottoms
1) The thunderstorm that just rolled in and stranded me on campus.
2) Attempts to limit my journalistic freedoms. If you know what I'm talking about, you need to stop.
3) 90 degrees at the end of September?
4) No "Adult Swim" this week... I'm sorry, I'm sorry!
5) Barry Manilow? Really? I think I'd rather be called an ugly woman that Barry Manilow.

With Apologies...

Sorry everyone, but I took a bit of a vacation, and am now up in Saratoga visiting friends at Skidmore. I'm not going to have time to write about last night's swim class today, but I should get to it tomorrow. In the mean time, re-read yesterday's post, and then sponsor me to ride for MS!

Also, don't forget to vote in my poll! If Barry Manilow wins, I may actually have to get a face lift!

Rally to the Cause!!

This is team Skidmore/ BVF after the 2006 tour.
We just rode 114 miles. It was very sunny.
Jonathan made a silly face.

This is the George Washington Bridge.
I rode across it on my way to the end of the 2006 tour.
The camera appears to have been shaking.

Friends, as my family and I have done almost every year for as long as I can remember, we'll be riding in this year's New York City MS century bike tour on Sunday October 14. This event raises money for research into treatments for this debilitating disease, as well as providing funds for patient counseling and care.

This year, as in the past several years, we will be joined by a large cast of characters, including some faces who will be familiar from this blog. My good friends and Skidmore Cycling team mates Dante Petri and Travis Roe-Raymond will be joining me on the 100-mile ride in the hinterlands, as will my BVF team mate Jonathan O'Brien. My brother will be riding a 65-mile route, while my parents and a contingent of friends and neighbors will be riding a 30-mile circuit of Manhattan.

Last year this conglomerate group raised nearly $10,000, and we are looking for a 50% improvement this year. That's where you come in. By surfing over to my personal MS homepage, you can sponsor me for this adventure. Every little bit helps, even if you can only pledge 10 cents a miles, every single cent will go into research on MS, and would be tremendously appreciated. You can pledge via credit card over the internet, or mail me a check, payable to "MS New York" by the week of October 8.

If you like to ride and are free on Sunday, October 14th you can also join us on the ride. No mater what your ability is, you will have someone to ride with on the 30, 65, or 100 mile routes. Click this link if you're interested in riding with us! And as always, please feel free to email me at bernstein.andrew@gmail.com if you have questions about donations or riding.

Check back tomorrow for my weekly installment of "Adult Swim," and don't forget to mock me in my weekly poll!

New Poll and Analysis

Today marks the end of my first weekly poll. I asked you about the weather, and you gave a response that was nothing if not appropriate given the question, which is to say, no response at all. (Obviously I'm not talking to the ten of you who did vote. I give each of you my most sincere thanks, and hope that you'll return this week to voice your opinion on my new poll.) Hopefully my new poll will elicit more interesting responses.

I'd like to introduce my new poll before I get into the analysis of last week's topic. As you all saw on the blog this weekend, I finally got my haircut. This week, I'm giving you the chance to evaluate my new head of hair! Make your self heard, and let me know what you think!! Does my new do make me look like Ben Affleck? Like Barry Manilow? Like Sharon Stone? Or Like Ellen DeGeneres? And of course, if you have other thoughts, please air them in the comments section below! Clearly, I'll be voting 500 times for Ben Affleck, so it's going to take a lot of you to outvote me... The inspiration for this poll came from Todd, who posted the idea in a comment last week. See, if you comment, you get included in the blog process! I hope more of you will post in the near future!

As far as analysis of last weeks poll is concerned, this one seems pretty straightforward. There were 9 votes for "just right." Two of you thought it was too cold, and one person was too warm. Now that we're nearly in October, the seasons are changing, and especially last week, there was a definite cooler turn in the weather. There are your 2 votes for too cold. Everyone who voted for "just right," is ready for the changing season. They did the whole warm summer thing, and now they're ready to break out the light-weight jackets. Just for the record, I voted for this category. Then we have one person who thought it was too warm. I can't even guess at what this person was thinking. They may have been smoking crack. Or perhaps they were visiting New York from Alaska. Your guess is as good as mine...

That's all for today, don't forget to vote in my new poll!

This is What I Did Today!

Central Park Zoo

These are turtles.
They are hanging out on a log.
One turtle is on top of another turtle.

This is a penguin taking a shower.
Penguins smell bad.
They should shower more often.

This is a bird.
Its eyes look much larger than they actually are.
It has very pretty colors.

This is a polar bear enjoying a refreshing swim.
And a small child,
Enjoying the polar bear's refreshing swim.

*Photos courtesy of my new digital camera, thanks Mom and Dad!

Hair Cut!

This is my new haircut.
It's much shorter than my old haircut.
Becky call it a "reverse mullet."

Yup, this is all I've got today. Photo courtesy of my new camera! Hope everyone was able to stay dry when it rained earlier today!

It only took three-and-a-half months!

This is Frank and Estelle Costanza.
Their son is named George.
They all lived together, just like me and my parents.

It's finally happened. I was driven out of my home. This past Tuesday, after a long day of selling sneakers, sending emails, reading other blogs, holding staring contests with The Rabbit's shoe buyer (at least, I think that's what we were doing), swimming, picking at in-grown hairs on my thighs, and trying to make sense of my Dad's new habit of buying lottery tickets (Favorite quotes so far: "Well, somebody has to win!" and "I was close! I got 3 of the 7 numbers!" uhg.), I was finally lying down on the couch, watching the evening news.

My Dad was sitting with me, in his underwear, re-reading his losing lottery ticket, just in case the numbers had changed. As it happens when you live with your parents, my Mom came home from wherever she had been and immediatly informed me, in the way that she does, that my father would not be home for dinner the following night, and that she might not be either... but she might be. "Ok, whatever," I said. Afterall, I'm 22 years old, and lived on my own for a whole year. Though it might be hard to believe, I am capable of feeding myself. In fact, I rather enjoy it. A little later on, when I was getting ready for bed, my Mom came downstairs and said; "You'll probably be on your own for dinner tomorrow." "I know Mom, you already told me," I said.

Then, on Wednesday afternoon, I was on the phone with an EMT in New Jersey, asking him questions for my uncle's software publicity packet, when my Mom called from upstairs, "Andrew, I'm not going to be home for dinner..." she kept talking, but I didn't hear that rest, as I slammed the door. Honestly, how many times does she need to tell me the same thing?! I was on the phone for crying out loud. Well, I couldn't take the never-ending nagging any longer. As soon as the call ended I put my good old MacBook in my messenger bag and marched around the corner to the Tea Lounge.

Before I knew it, I was sitting in a mauve lounge chair that looked very comfy, but turned out not to be. A pair of women sitting near me were conversing in pan-European accents about their handbags, or something equally banal, while an Asian man with ADD sitting next to me got up every three or four minutes to add sugar, cream, nutmeg, cinnamon and who-knows-what-else to his iced coffee concoction. Between trips to the counter he alternately flipped through two different books, shifted positions on his couch, dribbled the concoction all over his skinny jeans, fliped his phone open, fliped it closed, opened it again, wiped it off on his jeans, noticed that he's spilled coffee on himself, tries to wipe it off, accidentally sloshes some onto his notebook, etc, etc...

All I had wanted was a quiet place where I could sit and write about my new bathing suit, and this was the best I was able to do: an uncomfortable seat set in an awkward "conversation circle," in this establishment where everyone puts far too much effort into their appearance and various postures. Everyone there was dressed to the nines (except me, as I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and my fly was open), and was either hiding behind an apple laptop or some obscure book, in which they worked very hard to be thoroughly engrossed. There were buses pulling up right outside the open door, and the hiss from the espresso machine interrupted even my deepest thoughts... ARGHH

Don't worry about me, I'll just vent my frustrations about my home life and lack of comfortable working spaces here on the blog, for your enjoyment....

Top and Bottom 5 from the Week

I didn't get out of bed until 9 this morning. Clearly, that can only happen on a Thursday, which means it's time for another top and bottom 5 list! Yay!

Tops from the week:
1) My brand first digital camera, a gift for graduating college. Now I'll be able to document my life as I bounce around the rest of my early 20s! Thank Mom and Dad!
2) "The Flying Scotsman." A great movie, just released on DVD. We need more films like this... Even if Obree was wearing the wrong shoes.
3) The handicap race.
4) Boston Chicken. More on that to come.
5) My fellow bloggers making me laugh. Just call me Harriman, Douglas Harriman.

Bottoms from the week:
1) My poll!! 9 votes?! No comments?! Was it the topic? Come on, there's still a few days to make yourself heard!!
2) The Landis Verdict. I'm still not convinced by WADA's test.
3) My swimming technique and form, as shown in videos of swim class. Now, if I could only get the video to play on my Mac.
4) The handicap race. I cleaned my bike. It rained. My bike got muddy. Now I have to clean it again.
5) My Mom on facebook. More on that to come.

Adult Swim, Redux

This is what I look like, all dressed for swim class.

Mmmm.... tasty.
Except, my ass is nicer.

For last nights swim class, in an effort to better fit in with my classmates, I bought a pair of jammers, very similar to the ones pictured above. The only swim suits on the sale rack at work were sizes small and extra-large, so obviously, I chose the small one. At first I wasn't sure if it would even be large enough to stretch over my bulging thighs, but somehow it did. By buying this swim suit, I've now ensured that I will continue shaving my legs at least through the end of this class, rather than taking my customary break from the razor from November to February. Stubble would not jive well at all with the suit's smooth texture.

So I arrived on the pool deck decked out in my new suit, my red swim cap and blue goggles. This time I was in the company of two co-workers, Troy and Peter, who are helping
me to lower the class's median age. We all got in the water, and our coach, John Stewart told us that we were going to work on breathing by pushing our head deeper into the water. Right...

Well, surprisingly, it actually does work. I know, I can hardly believe it either. It seems that when your head is at a certain position in the water, it pushes water up against itself, which then causes a depression somewhere in the general neighborhood of your mouth. Who knew? So, Stewart told us to give this a shot, and we all did. The first few times I wound up with a mouth full of pool water, but toward the end of the class, I was getting, I'd say, a 50/50 mixture of water and air. But I am beginning to see how I'll be able to breath in the future, if I keep working at it... John also said that the only thing guaranteed in this class is that we're going to drink a lot of pool water. So far, it's proving to be true.

In last night's class I was stuck behind a different slow swimmer. This was another woman, hearing a Speedo-brand bathing suit. As annoying as it was to be stuck behind her, I was quick to notice the sharp tan line across her thighs. I've got a very similar tan line, as such a mark is an obvious mark of a serious cyclist, for who else would make sure that their spandex is at exactly the same point on their thigh every time they get on a bike? Of course, I was curious if I had potentially found a kindred spirit in the class, another cyclist looking for just a touch of variety, but how do you broach that subject in this context: "Hi, I saw your tan line, and was wondering if you're a cyclist?" Umm... that felt like I might as well have said: "I was looking at your thigh and noticed that you've got a sweet tan line!"

I suppose there's always the tack taken by another gentleman sharing our lane. Seemingly unconstrained by his portly build, he awkwardly hit on both this woman and another woman in our lane. Is there anything more tacky than that? I sort of doubt it. And the fact of the matter was, in addition to being totally unattractive, all he had to offer were the sort of predictable one-liners that no one wants to hear in an adult swim class. "Oh man, how's he expect us to breath if we're sticking our heads under the water?" (well, he just told us, dumb ass) and "Jeez, this suit is soo tight..." (yes, we can see that.)

After each of these lines, the two women would giggle a little, and then, with a rueful glance at me, he'd push off from the wall and splash his way down to the far end of the pool. Then the larger of the two women, the one without bike-specific tan lines, would assume a very serious look, and take off after him. Left alone with Tan Lines, I'd say the only thing that I could think of: "Do you want to go for a ride on my bike? It's a Douglas and I can pedal it really fast!" Then, of course, I'd do the only thing you can do in a situation like that: stick my head deep under the water and take a deep breath, just like coach said to.

That's all for today... I hope you're all well out there in the world, and don't forget to vote in my poll!

More GMSR photos

My buddy Dante, who I stayed with during the insanely difficult Green Mountain Stage Race, took some sweet photos during the stage 3 road race from Waitsfield VT, to the summit of the Appalachian Gap, also in Waitsfield. Enjoy!

I needed to give Dante my arm warmers
So I stuck them in my shirt.
Then I threw them at him.

Dante took this photo while standing at the bottom of his driveway. He lives right at the base of the Middlebury Gap, just a few hundred yards past the most treacherous stretch of road in the race. Racers plummeted down the the Middlebury Gap, through the Town of Ripton, and then through a narrow gulch. Then we took a sharp right, crossed a narrow bridge, then took a sharp left. Then Dante took this photo. It had been cold when the race started, but it was much warmer by the time I made it to Dante's driveway. So, I pulled off my arm warmers, and was in the process of throwing them at him (so that I wouldn't have to carry them with me for the next 30 miles), when he took this photo. You can see the bridge behind me.

This is Becky playing with sidewalk chalk.
She was a very dedicated fan during the race
Thanks baby!

In the last 500 meters of the road race, the road was covered in chalk encouraging various people up the mountain. The last pitch was so steep that I could hear the announcer on the summit, long before I could see the finish line. I gutted out my easiest gear, a 39x27, and still struggled to the top. It was, however, a lot of fun to read all the chalk on the way up, and I definitely felt my legs get a little lighter when I saw Becky and Dante's homage to my team, the Brooklyn Velo Force! Thanks guys!

And now a quick correction from Sunday's post: It turns out that my co-worker who saw me off the front in Saturday's handicap race is named Christy, not Christie. Sorry for the mistake, Chirsty with a 'y.'

I also wanted to thank the five other people who have already voted in this week's poll. (I voted twice.) If six people voted in the poll in one day, I figure that I should have 42 votes by Sunday, plenty for a statistical analysis! So, tell your friends and family to vote, and don't forget to post your comments and thoughts on the weather.

I'm cooking up another exciting episode of "Adult Swim" for tomorrow's blog post, based on tonights second swim class, so be sure to check back tomorrow...

New Blog Feature!!

This is exciting. Although this is a blog, and not a newspaper or magazine, I'm still hard-wired to cook up "features," the same way I used to when I was the editor of the Skidmore News. So, this is the new feature that I've come up with today: web polls!

If you look to the right side of the blog, you'll see a poll topic, with a few answer choices below it. This week, for the first poll, I've selected a very simple topic: What do you think about the weather this week? You can read the answers that I've posted, and submit your opinion. If you think I've missed the mark completely, either with the question of the answers, please post your thoughts as comments on the blog. New poll topics will come up every Monday, and you have until Sunday to vote.

Starting next Monday I'm going to offer my statistical analysis, and hopefully, my thoughts on the many comments posted about each poll.

I think that this is an exciting adventure that we are going to embark on together, and I'm looking foreward to reading your many comments on this week's poll topic!

Catch-Up

Here are a couple of things that I forgot to include in yesterday's post:
1) "Wet bike racer" smells a lot like "wet dog." Of course, I've known this for almost as long as I've been racing bikes, but I was reminded of it yesterday.

2) Yesterday, during the handicap race, when I went off on my suicidal late race attack, I happened to zoom right by my co-worker, Christie, who was out for a run. I'm not sure exactly at what point she saw me, but it must have been at a point when I had a solid gap, because when she arrived at work, one of the first things she asked me was, "How was your race, did you win?"
Of course, I didn't win, but the fact that Christie asked if I had means that I must have looked pretty good, and looking good is about 80% of bike racing, so I'd say I'm doing pretty well!

I spent this afternoon working on a project that I'm completing for my uncle, preparing publicity materials for a product that he makes, as he gets ready for the fall trade-show circuit. The product is a software package for ambulance corps, and allows them to track tons of data -- about patients, treatment, vehicle maintenance, staff schedules, finances, equipment inventories, retirement plans, holiday gift wish-lists, digital music, and can even track corps members ebay auctions. It's really a pretty impressive piece of software. If you're interested in learning more about the program, which is called ESS/ Ambulance, click here.

Of course, I'm doing this project for $$, so I was happy to spend my Sunday here at my desk, but I was happier that it gave me the chance to fiddle around with Adobe Photoshop and InDesign, two of my favorite programs. During a brief spell at which I was facing a bit of creative blockage, I made this, which I'm planning on using as a header for my web site, when I have one, someday:

This is the top of my website.
But it's not online yet.
Maybe it will be someday. Maybe it will have a bottom.

So that was my day. Now I've got to put a few more details on my uncle's stuff, and call it a day. I hope that you all are well out there!

Handicapped

Today's race was a 3/4 handicap.

Afterwards, I felt handicaped.

Then I used The Stick. Now I feel better.

Despite my declaration of being done for the season last Saturday, I raced this morning. I'm glad I did, it was a fun event and I actually did pretty well. Today's race was in a slightly unusual format. It was of the type known as a 3/4 handicap. I'll explain what the means.

Amateur bicycle racing is organized by experience CATegories. Beginniners race CAT 5. Once you've started 10 CAT 5 races, you can become a CAT 4. Once you've accumulated points by placing well in CAT 4 races, or by starting a whole lot of CAT 4 races, you can move up to CAT 3. It's more of the same to move up to CAT 2 and CAT 1. I race CAT 3, which has meant that most of the races I did this season were combined races, where I raced with 1s and 2s, making me a very, very small fish swimming about the ocean blue. As I mentioned, today's race was CAT 3/4, but it was also a handicap race. In that format, the 4s started three minutes ahead of us 3s. We were all racing for the same prize pot, so we had to catch the 4s if we wanted a chance of winning. This race is described as a race of dignity for the 3s... afterall, what self-respecting 3 could look at themself in the mirror if we couldn't even catch a pack of 4s? In the race, I had one team mate in the 3s with me, and two team mates in the 4s up the road. Two others were supposed to race, but they decided not to when they saw the rain. (Though they did show up, dressed in civies, to cheer us on.)

Here's a side note: When I woke up at 4:45 this morning it was pouring rain. I groaned, and had to fight the temptation of staying in bed. It had slowed to a drizzle when I left the house, and stopped compeltely by the time I made it to the park. BUT, in a bike race, even if the rain stops falling from the sky, you're still going to get soaked as rain flys up from the ground, accelerated by other racer's tires. The race was 50 miles, and it was going to be a very wet 50 miles.

During the race, our injured team mate Scott showed up and encouraged us with a cow bell. Thanks Scott!! Hearing that bell as we surged up the hill each lap is what gave me the strength to keep going!

We got started and it was wet, wet, wet. We had a 3 minute gap to pull back, and it came down in jerks and jolts. We took 15 seconds the first lap, then 20 seconds on the second lap. Then we stalled for a while, then took another 20. Then we lost two seconds. Then we took 20 seconds, then five seconds. And so it went. For 40 miles. Finally, with 3 laps -- or ten miles -- left in the race, we caught the 4s. I immediately swallowed an energy gel and surged through the tired field. We kept the pace high, and it looked like the race was going to come down to a field sprint. I sat in for a while, trying to avoid crashing as I rode with the sketchy 4s.

On the last lap, with about 2.5 miles left in the race, I took off on a suicide mission, riding solo away from the field. A cyclist has to be monstrously strong to make a late-race attack like this stick, when a field of hungry sprinters are chomping at the bit, hot on your heels. But, I know that I'm no sprinter, so I have to take the chances I get. I took off on a slight uphill, and quickly distanced myself from the field. Digging deep, I spun a hard gear and gritted my teeth. I stayed off the front for nearly two miles, at which point I was caught by the speeding peloton, and spent from my effort, unceremoniously spat out the back to coast my way in.

National 500 meter TT champion James Joseph won the race, to the surprise of no one, and after chasing hard for 40 miles, and giving it my best, I've got no complaints. I'm feeling a bit sore after the race, and my bike is really dirty, but other than that, I'm feeling much more excited about racing that I had been, which is nice.

That's all for today, hope you're all well out there in the world.

Busy Day

Today we were short a person at work, and we got one of the largest shipments I've yet seen while working at JackRabbit. It took a ful four and a half hours to get everything put away. We've also put a huge surplus of men's and women's Asics Cumulus, so if you like that shoe, please, please come buy one! (Or make my life even better and buy 5.)

I got a nice ride in this morning with Todd, and was able to spend some time thinking about future blog posts, but I wasn't able to come up with much for today. I didn't get home from work until 9 (I stopped for dinner on he way home), and I've got to get up at 4:45 tomorrow morning to race in Prospect Park. So, for all of those reasons, there won't be much to tonight's post. I'll be back with a great post tomorrow. In the mean time, enjoy this photo:

This has no relevance.
This is Tom, jumping off of our house.
There was a lot of snow last Valentine's Day.

Thursday Top and Bottom 5

Since Thursday is my second consecutive day off, it's Sunday for me. As such, it seems like a good time to take stock of my week...

Tops from the week:
1) Becky's visit last weekend, and sailing with my parents on Sunday.
2) My adult swimming class.
3) My Mom being honored by her synogouge for the service she renders to the sick and elderly in the synogouge community.
4) Seeing local racer Haig Marino on a training ride, on his road bike, towing his toddler son in a trailer. Cycling doesn't have to end with parenthood!
5) Finally killing the cockroach that I've been hunting in my bathroom since August.


Bottoms from the week:
1) Seeing, as I rode my bike home from the park, a baby in a stroller tumble down a stoop, and listening to the mother screaming, and hearing the baby wail
2) The asshole that nosed into a parking spot that I was getting ready to back into.
3) Three weeks of accumulated grime on my bike.
4) The new Kanye West album, "Graduation..." It's just okay...
5) My credit card bill, with all the costs of the Green Mountain Stage Race.

Adult Swim

This is a little boy wearing water wings.
I thought I might have needed a pair of those.
But I decided that it would have looked too silly.

With my legs feeling more than a little wasted when I raced in Prospect Park last Saturday, I knew that it was time for a change of pace. Troy, a sub-three hour marathoner, who works with me at The Rabbit, frequently talks about how the beginning swim class benefited his running, so I figured that maybe it could be good for me too. Now, you have to understand that I'm best known for scoffing at any form of exercise that isn't cycling, so this is a bit of a departure for me. I even passed up the opportunity to take a similar class at Skidmore. But, with my legs feeling tired and stiff, I knew I need some drastic measures. Plus, the fall training classes started this week, so it seemed like the stars were properly aligned. I made a call and was suddenly enrolled in "Swim Level I: Efficient Technique." Last night was the first day of my adult swim class. In some ways, it was it was very mature, in other ways, it was frighteningly reminiscent of the last swim class I took, when I was about 7 years old, learning to swim at the Eastern Athletic Club.

So, during the last hours of work yesterday several of my new classmates stopped by the store to buy a new bathing suit, cap, or goggles, giving me the chance to scope everybody out. It also ensured that every conversation I'd have during the class pertained to goggle, bathing suit, or cap choice: "Oh, I see you went with the Mako goggles, how do you like them? I got the Lane 4s, because they looked so sleek." It seemed like I was going to be the young guy in the class by at least a few years, which makes sense, for how many 22 year olds can afford a $215 swimming class just four months after graduating college? Not many, and even those that can are not likely to choose such a pass time, when there are far better things to spend that kind of money on, like food. Everyone fell into one of three categories:
1) Recreational triathletes looking to improve their swim time
2) People like me, looking to learn a new way to get some aerobic exercise
3) People desperately in need of any form of exercise, but whose joints could not tolerate any kind of weight bearing activity (*There was only one person in this category. When the class was over he sat on a bench in the men's changing room with a sad, defeated look on his face. I hope he's able to work up the resolve to come back next week. I also hope he never reads my blog.)

The store closed promptly at 8, and I rolled on my bike the two blocks to the pool, arriving early enough to fill out some paperwork, including a model release form, that apparently gave JackRabbit the right to use images of me -- in part or in whole -- on their web sight or published materials. I don't worry about signing things like that, since any web designer would certainly pass over my photo for one with a little less chest. (And yes, I will be writing about swim class at least once a week for the next 12 weeks, and yes, chest hair will be a reoccurring theme.)

Paperwork done, I walked down to the locker room. At this time, it's important for you to know that this class is being held in a high school athletic facility. The locker room is sized appropriately for those smaller bodies, and felt a little small for full-sized men. I picked a locker in a corner, and put my sandals in it.

With a start I realized that I haven't been in a locker room since high school, and mine was the kind of high school where gym classes were not rigorous enough to warrant changing your underwear. Though it's often necessary to change at my races, there are never any locker rooms, so most cyclists simple take their pants off where ever they park their car. Some people bring a towel for this purpose, but I never bother. But there's plenty of space in wide open parking lots, and there's no risk of tripping over your undies and accidentally bumping into another man's you know what... Of course, there is the risk of arrest, but that seems a trifling thing. I hadn't the slightest clue what the etiquette in a locker room was, so I quickly stole a glance around the room by pretending to fiddle with a zipper on my backpack. Everyone was simply changing, sans towel. So, I did the same, taking extra care to keep at least one foot and one hand securely planted on fixed structures. I got my suit on without incident, and made for the pool deck.

On the deck I realized that I'd committed a bit of a faux pas in deciding to wear a baggy, trunk-style bathing suit. Never mind that it was red and had been issued to me when I worked as a lifeguard several summers ago, all the other men were wearing tight-fitting jammers, like the ones you see on swimmers in the Olympics. Of course, since I'd sold suits to most of my classmates, this wasn't really a surprise, but I had been hoping not to be "that guy." I'll have to buy jammers for the next class.

Once I'd gotten over the embarrassment of wearing the wrong suit to this class, I noticed that all the men were congregating around the door from the men's locker room, and trying to scope out who would be the best swimmers. The women were congregating around their door, twittering and talking in that easy way that women do, while every once-in-a-while stealing glances over at us. I laughed a bit at this. You'd think that everyone would mix and introduce themselves, but there was very little of this, just like in my youth. Of course, I was no exception to any of this, as I pretty much only talked to the man who had taken the locker next to mine -- and all we talked about was the speedo I'd sold him last weekend.

I was heartened to notice that none of the adults in the class with me were at all shy about their bodies. Here everyone was wearing just a bathing suit, cap and goggles. In the few college swim classes that I'd observed through the pool windows while walking to the racquetball court, there were always a couple of insecure underclassmen -- young women wearing shorts over the swim suit to hide thighs that they felt weren't suitable for public viewing, or young men wearing rash guards to hid a beer gut or -- gasp -- chest hair. (see, there's the chest hair again)

Eventually our coach, John Stewart, showed up, and explained that tonight we'd be filmed, so that he could review our progress as the course progressed. We all jumped in the water, which was mercifully not that cold, and started swimming laps. I wound up stuck behind a woman wearing a red and blue Nike bathing suit. She was an incredibly slow swimmer. After she started her lap, I would wait until she was half way across to the far side, and then start my lap. Now, understand, I am not a fast swimmer, but on every lap, I would catch up with this woman in short order, and much faster than I ever expected to. Suddenly finding a pair of feet kicking in front of me was always a shock that left me startled and sputtering as I awkwardly went from "swim" mode to "doggy paddle" mode. "Jeez," I thought, "If I were on my bike, I could just go around her." Oh well.

Well, this blog post is going on a bit long, so I'm going to cut it off here, but just know that I had a lot of fun at swim class, despite the few awkward moments. There will be more on this next Wednesday. Be well!

Busy Night...

I've been calling myself a free lance writer for a while, but in actuality I haven't done any freelancing -- until now. I'm on deadline tonight for an article for Velo News, and thus don't have time to post anything here. Instead I'll give you a little teaser for tomorrow's post:

Tonight was the first meeting of an adult swim class that I'll be taking from now through the fall. The first meeting involved the loss of my "bathing cap virginity," awkward moments in a tiny locker room and countless conversations about bathing suit and goggle choices. My arms are the sorest they've been since I stopped rock climbing, and all I can think about is going for a bike ride.

I'll be expanding on all of these topics tomorrow, so be sure to check back. In the mean time, I'm off to write about junior cycling in the United States. Cheerio!

USPS: Universal Stupidity Perpetutation Service

Okay, I know the acronym is a bit weak, but today I found myself standing in line at a post office for 30 minutes, during which time I observed some amusing -- and alarming -- exchanges between the customers and the postal workers.

To set the scene, there were about 7 people in line when I arrived. There were two postal employees working, while a third sat on a stool, glowering at the line, but not helping any customers. The building is not air conditioned, and it was about 95 degrees inside. The line swelled to about 20 while I was waiting. The third postie, who happens to be an enormously fat woman with a disconcerting habit of fondling her gargantuan bosoms, never helped a single person.

It seems that the average IQ for an employee is about 30, and the effect of being in a confined space with such moronic people lowers the IQ of even the most erudite customers, and just generally brings out the worst in people. Here are three best conversations I overheard:

Exchange A:
Customer #1: "Hi, I need to send this package to Albuquerque."
Postie #1 (Postie #1 happens to be Asian): "You need international stamp for Albuquerque."
Customer #1: "Oh, ok. How much does that cost?"

At that point another customer still in line interjected that Albuquerque was, in fact, in New Mexico, and certainly within the United States. The postie realized the mistake, and the customer was spared the unnecessary (and absurd) expense of an international stamp.

Exchange B:
Customer #2 (Customer #2 was a little old lady with a straw hat): "Do I have to wait in line if I only want to buy stamps?"
Customer #3: "There is only one line."
Customer #2: "But I just want to buy stamps, can't I skip the line?"
Customers #3, #4, #5, #6: "No!"
Customer #7 (to Customer #2): "Lady, I've been standing in line for 15 minutes. If you think I'm going to wait any longer so that you can get your stamps, well, you've got another thing coming."

At this point, another customer stepped in, and suggested that everyone calm down, which they did. Customer #2 left the office.

Exchange C:
Customer #8 (this customer was a middle-aged gentleman who was being helped when I walked in. Whatever he was doing took about 15 minutes, leaving just one other postie available during that time, making him the source of consternation for everyone else in the post office. This is just one snippet of his time at the window.): "Can you tell me if one stamp is enough for this envelope?"
Postie #1: "Yes, it fine."
Customer #8: "Are you sure?"
Postie #1: "Yes."
Customer #8: "Can you weigh it to make sure?"
Posite #1: (Weighs the envelope.) "It fine."
Customer #8: "You're sure? It's very important."
Postie #1: "Yes, it fine!"

At this point the customer finally got the point and eventually left. I gave him a very dirty look.

So, that was my trip to the post office. I hope not to repeat it any time soon. The funniest thing is that the USPS complains that no one uses the post offices anymore, and uses that complaint to justify cutting the number of employees. All I have to say is, anyone who thinks conditions in the post office will be helped but cutting staff has clearly never visited a post office.

The Ocean Blue

This is my father's boat.
It is a hole in the ocean, where he puts his money.
But it is a nice way to get out of the city.

With the big race at Bear Mountain canceled, I had a free Sunday. In celebration of my day off Becky decided on short notice to come down to Brooklyn, and spend the day sailing with my parents on my Dad's boat, "Cool Fire."

When I was a kid we used to spend the entire summer on Cape Cod, where we had a small sail boat and a small beach house. (I say 'had' because my parents have since demolished the old house and replaced with a new, decidedly larger, beach house.) I've always loved sailing and spending time on the water, and sought opportunities to do it at summer camp, and even during my first few weeks at Skidmore.

But then, during my first year at college, shortly after my Dad had started his new career as a commercial real estate broker, he suddenly had the money to buy a much larger sailboat, a long-time dream of his. Cool Fire (the name was given to the boat by a previous owner), is a 37-foot J Boat, and falls into the racer/ cruiser category. That means it can go fast, but has many of the accouterments of a slower, cushier boat.

I'm not inclined at the moment to delve into the many ways in which my Dad and I clash over sailing, but I will say this, having access to a boat in proximity to New York City is something that I feel very lucky to have. Today we sailed from the boat's mooring in Manhassette Bay, past the New York Maritime Academy and under the Goethels Bridge before turning around, and throwing out the anchor at Sandy Point for a swim.

There's nothing like a nice swim on hot, late-summer day like today. We got stuck in a bit of traffic on the way home from the boat, causing my Mom to miss the first bit of the finals of the US Open, but I'd say that it was worth it. With work and racing taking precedence during most of the sailing season, it was very nice to have today to relax in the company of my girlfriend and family, out on the water.

My Dad loves company on the boat, so if anyone reading this wants to go for a ride, feel free to email me, and I'm sure we can set something up.

Busy Day...

Today was a pretty typical summer Saturday. I woke up at 5, went to a bike race in Prospect Park at 6:30, and after a difficult and fruitless 45 miles of racing, I was home by 8:30. I took a shower, and got to work by 10. It was busy from the moment we opened, and when I left at 6, the store had grossed more than $8200, the busiest day that I've worked this month or last. I knew it was going to be a busy day when, at 10:45ish, while I was fitting two people for sneakers, a couple walked in and wanted to buy a $375 baby jogger. After they'd added some accessories to their tab they were dropping more than $500.

The store was steadily busy all day, and by the time I left, I was really looking forward to sitting down in front of the TV, which I am now doing.

I also mentioned that my race this morning was difficult, but more importantly, it left me feeling much more depleted than usual. I was supposed to race the legendary Fall Bear race. Unfortunately, the promoter was not able to secure police support or a permit for the event, so it was canceled. Although I had really been looking forward to the race, I'm now thinking that it's for the better. I'm very ready for my season to be over. I'll do one or two more prospect park races, but will otherwise spend the next few weeks and months doing a lot of long, low-intensity training rides. I've been racing at least once a week, and sometimes as mush as three times a week, since the first weekend in March. I'm tired, and it's time for a break.

Now that I've told you about my busy day and my thoughts on calling it a good season, I'm realizing that I don't have much else to write about today. So that's all.

My Other Car is a Nissan Maxima...

This is my car.

I once got locked out.

The police officer let me back in.

My trip oddometer read 1336 miles when I pulled back onto Tompkins Place this morning, at the completion of my New England road trip. Becky did a little driving on this trip, but I was behind the wheel of my 1997 green Nissan Maxima for the vast majority of those miles. I've never named my car, but we've spent a lot of time together over the past few years, and since I've been writting about bikes so much recently, and since I literally woke up and got into the car this morning, I though I'd change it up and tell you something about my car.

Driving is one of my guiltiest pleasures. Though I hate the way my car gulps gasoline and pollutes the air, I love how fast it goes, and I love the games you play when traveling on the highways. My guilt has made my relationship with the car the on-again, off-again type. I'll go for weeks without driving, as I ride my bike to and from work, and use the subway. But then I'll go to Vermont and drive 1300 miles in 5 days of travel. I've been on for a while, so now maybe its time for a break. I love that the car and I won't miss each other, and we'll still be able to pick up exactly where we left off.

As far as I'm concerned, my car is the best car that ever was. Its 6-cylinder engine is way more powerful than it needs to be, but it sure makes schlepping around a full load of stuff or people or bikes easy. Four bikes, four boys, and a trunk full of clothes, food and various detritous never seemed to slow it down.

I love that even with four wheels spread 163 inches apart and 3085 pounds of metal, I can still feel intimately conected to every ounce of its muscular frame. The connection I feel to my car is almost as strong as that which I feel to my 18 pound bike. I notice every little tick that the car makes.

Usually ticks are vibration coming from a bike on the roof. Today there was a tingling sound coming from the right side of the car, like a chain was hanging off the bottom of the car. Not long enough to drag, this chain would just kiss the pavement whenever the suspension compressed. It was hardly audible, but there it was, tingaling, tingaling. I'll have my mechanic check that out the next time I get the oil changed.

I love the independence that comes with my car, that for the last two years of my college education I was able to fit just about everything I own, including all three bikes, into it. I love how precise its handling is, that it cuts into corners like a scalple, and rolls over bumpy roads with hardly a whimper of protest.

Last Day of Vacation...

Today I'm still in Rhode Island. Tomorrow morning I'll be getting up early and driving back to Brooklyn, to resume my duties as an athletic footwear expert. While this has been a very nice break from work, I'm beginning to feel a little restless, and am looking to getting back to the daily structure of work.

I'm so bored that I've been watching mountain bike videos, which I will now share with you at this link. I wanted to post the video itself, but I haven't quite figured out how to do that yet. Anyhow, enjoy the video, and let me know if you think you can keep up with the riders in "Roam."

I also stumbled across this video yesterday. It's pretty funny, but make sure you have your sound on before watching.

This is me on the final climb from last Sunday's road race.
This pitch was nearly 20% grade.
Believe it or not, I smiled at the top!

Alright, that's all for today. I'll be back at work tomorrow, and should have some more interesting observations about the life of a shoe salesman before too long. Thanks for reading!

Rhode Island

Here I am in Rhode Island, hanging out at Becky's house. She is at work, as are her father and brother. Her mom is also out, apparently with poodle #1. Poodle #2 is here with me, making a nest on the couch. I wrote a whole lot yesterday, so I'm going to keep today's post pretty visual. First of all, here are a couple more photos from the Green Mountain Stage Race:

This is me racing the criterium in Burlington
I pushed the pedals as hard as I could, but it still wasn't fast enough.
At least the weather was good.

This is what I saw as I rode my way up the Appalachian Gap on Sunday.
You see chalk writing like this in the Tour de France.
It was really great to have Dante and Becky give me so much encouragement.

And now, on another note, all of my friends back at Skidmore start fall classes today. Although I can't say that I'm sad about not being in class right now, it is a very different way to experience the fall. Of course, what I really miss is being so close to so many of my friends. Below is a photo of my one-time room mate and best friend Tom, outside the house we lived in during our senior year of college, 99 Lawrence Street, in Saratoga Springs. Oh how I wish I was moving back in there now.

The 99 was large, and largely pretty crappy.
All of the chairs fell apart, and we put many dart holes in the walls.
It was a fun place to spend time with friends.

Blogger does not offer any sort of photo editing capability, which is sort of too bad, but what can you do? All of these photos are by Becky. Hope everyone is enjoying the nice weather!

Well...

So, I drove 1,100 miles and raced 150 miles over four days. My legs are tired, and while I wouldn't say that my spirits are broken, I'm certainly a bit disappointed. I really felt that I had pretty good legs during Saturday's circuit race, and could have done something, had i just raced a little bit smarter.

One of the great things about traveling to bike races is the chance to see different parts of the country. In this case, Becky and I drove through a good chunk of northern New England on our way to and from the race. We saw a few quaint little towns, and lots of beautiful rolling hills and farm land. On the way back to Rhode Island last night we stopped at a funny restaurant called the Cracker Barrel, which promised "...Homestyle meals made with quality ingredients prepared from scratch throughout the day." Right... I could see the refrigerator truck parked right around the corner.

I ordered a hamburger, which I'd been craving. It was delicious. The funny thing about a place like that is even though it claims to be "country cookin'" or some such similar nonsense, there was nothing country about the menu. The only thing that made it country was the junk hanging on the walls and the white trash eating there.

Our server, Michelle, took a few minutes to come over to our table after we were seated, and then spent about 5 minutes apologizing for her tardiness. "No, it's OK," we assured her. Then, after we'd ordered, and we happily eating, she would hardly leave us alone, asking every three seconds if everything was alright. To be honest, my burger was overcooked, but I wasn't going to say anything.

Before I'd even had a chance to finish dinner Michelle wanted to know if we'd be having dessert. No thank you. We got back on the road as soon as possible. Here's the low-down on the last two days of the racing at the GMSR.

Sunday's stage was extremely difficult.
The first 28 miles of the race was on a fast rolling stretch of roads where speeds stayed close to 30 miles an hour. Then we flew up the day's first mountain pass, the Middlebury Gap, which climbs 1400 feet in less than five miles. I started the climb close to the back of the field, and steadily passed people on the way up. I was eventually passed by the follow vehicle, but was able to claw my way back into the race twice, before the chord finally snapped, and I was left behind the field. I could see a big group of riders about thirty seconds down the road, and working with the few riders left around me, I tried to catch up to them on the long decent into East Middlebury, where the race passed my friend Dante's driveway, where Becky and I had been staying for the race. We rode on at a fast pace for miles, before I finally figured we weren't going to catch back on, so I opened up a Power Bar. Of course, right as I had a mouthful of food, we turned onto a stretch of straight road and caught sight of the field. Everyone else hit the gas, and I was left choking on the sticky mess in my mouth. I don't think that group ever caught back up anyway, but it was painful to have been so close.

I wound up riding the rest of the race with a series of other riders in various states of pain and suffering. The day's last obstacle was the fearsome Appalachian Gap, which, at nearly 2500 feet, is Vermont's highest year-round paved road. I took it at my own pace, spinning an easy gear up the gap's 20-percent grades. The last kilometer, which contained the steepest pitches, was covered in chalk markings, urging riders up the climb. Becky and Dante had even written 'Go BVF' -- the name of my team -- on the hardest part. Dozens of supporters were standing on the side of the road cheering me and everyone else on.

Becky and Dante were waiting at the finish line to urge me on. I crossed the line more than a half hour behind the stage winner, but I did it with a smile on my face, knowing exactly what I would need to do to improve on the result next year.

The last stage of the race was a criterium in downtown Burlington. Aside from the crit I won in 2006 and my ninth place a week ago, I'm exceptionally bad at racing these high-paced technical races, and as I was out of contention. This race was no exception, and I got pulled from the race after only 5 laps. Again, this was a disappointing, but not surprising result. To make matters worse, I forgot to sign in for the stage, and thus wasn't placed on the results for the stage or the GC. Oh well. But again, I know what I need to do to improve for next year.


Well, this has been a long post without even a single photo. I do apologize for that. Not to worry, I'm sure my posts will become increasingly brief as I get back to civilization later this week. Hope all is well out there!

Defending the Bottom 90

Super fast post today because I've only got 3 minutes of battery left. Today was the hardest stage of the event, and had us racing over two mountain passes. I nearly made it over the first of these with the field, which was as good as I ever reasonably expected to do, but got dropped, and spent the rest of the race loosing time. 22 of the 120 starters have dropped out, leaving me defending the bottom segment of the general classification. Tomorrow is the crit, and then the drive back to Rhode Island, so I probably won't be able to post, but I'll get back to you on Tuesday. Stay well!

results here: http://www.gmsr.info/

Idiot Button

DAY ONE

This is me warming up for a bike race.
Rule of Thumb:
The shorter the race, the longer the warm up.

So, me and the other 120 category three racers have now completed the first half of the Green Mountain Stage Race. Some of those riders have earned the status of legends by racing well, and a select few riders have even won stages. I have shot myself in the foot, twice.

As I noted last night, the first stage was an 8-miles hill climb up the Appalachian Gap, an ascent of 1730 feet, with nearly 1300 feet of the elevation coming in the last 2.7 miles. As we from Brooklyn like to say, "Toto, I don't think we're in Prospect Park anymore."

My faithful soigneur/ girlfriend, Becky, and I drove down the gap earlier in the afternoon, to get a sense for the suffering that I was about to endure. So at least I knew what was coming.

The Appalachian is just over this hill.
I took this photo from the valley.
It's much taller than it looks.

Despite the fact that I was nearly peeing my bibs in fear of the climb, I actually managed to do almost everything right. I stopped eating nearly 3 hours before my start time to give myself plenty of time to digest, I made sure I was well hydrated, I checked, and double-checked the pressure in my tires, and I got on the trainer nearly an hour before the start, which meant that my warm up would actually be longer than the race.

The race started with a neutral parade through the town of Waitsfield. For those new to reading about cycling, any time the race is neutral, it means the speed is controlled by a pace car, which keeps the racers easily rolling along. The race started at the base of the climb, and the pace immediately went from "stroll through the park," to "Indy 500." I was only able to look down at my speedometer once, but it read, and this was on a steep uphill pitch, 24 MPH. Ouch.

Despite the high pace, the pack actually stayed largely together, and I surprised myself by riding pretty well on the climb (I usually climb about as well as a sack of potatoes). I was breathing easily, and turning the pedals without too much difficulty. I was even passing people on some of the steeper pitches, including my team mate Adam, who had kicked my ass about two weeks ago when we did some steep hill training together. But I was starting to get a dead, depleted feeling in my legs.

This is where I shot myself in the foot.

Thinking the deadness would get me into trouble later on the climb, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a tangerine-flavored power gel, and swallowed it in one shot. I immediately knew that I'd made a mistake, as a knot the size of a small watermelon spread through my abdomen. My climbing immediately went from "Chris Horner" to "Stuart O'Grady." This is right about the same time that I rode by the spot where Becky was waiting to cheer me on, but thankfully, all of the people I'd passed lower on the mountain had not yet caught back up to me, so I still looked relatively good. Looking good, of course, is the most important thing. Becky took this photo:

This is what pain looks like.
The ambulance is ready to take me away.
Fortunately, that hasn't been necessary yet.

Now, here's where the idiot button comes in. I'd give the button to a team mate, or a friend in a race with me -- like Adam in this case -- and have him push it whenever they see me doing something stupid -- like taking a gel right before the hardest pitch of the climb. The button would cause a buzzer to sound in my ear, or maybe a giant hand to slap me, whatever. The point is that I'd be warned not to do whatever it was that I was about to do.

Unfortunately, I didn't have such a button on Friday, so I potatoed my way to the top of the gap in 99th place, and spent the rest of the evening eagerly anticipating my effort to maintain my top-100 position on the next day.

DAY TWO

The second stage was a 72 mile road race contested on a 20 mile circuit just north of Waitsfield, VT. There was one major climb on the triangle-shaped loop, which came immediately after the start. In comparison to the previous day's climb, this one was a mere pimple. But to a flatlander like me, it was a formidable obstacle. Still, this was the stage best suited to my particular skills, so I was hoping to do well.

The first one and a half laps went well for me, I was having no trouble sitting in, and I was getting all of my nutrition right. I grabbed a water bottle from Becky in the feed zone, which always makes me feel very pro, and I even managed to pass a bunch of people on the climb, which was hugely satisfying. About half-way through the second lap I saw a lane open up in the shoulder while we were on a flat section, so I took the opportunity and zipped from the back of the field to about 20th wheel. This made me feel like I was actually in the race, which was nice.

In this stage there were sprint points available each lap on the finish line. I happened to arrive at the front right as we hit 2 Kilometers to go before the sprint, and thought it might be a good idea to try and grab some sprint points. So I moved up into the top ten riders, then the top 5 as we hit 500 meters to go. I launched my sprint about 150 meters out, which was good enough to pass all but two riders. I was momentarily excited about grabbing third-place points, but then someone told me that there were two riders off the front. Oh well.

These are the pros coming through the start finish.
They are much faster than me
But the motorcycle men called them assholes.

Here comes the spot where I shot myself in the foot on day two. After rolling across the
finish line the course headed up a series of moderate rollers. I was sitting on the front riding up one of these at what I felt like was a reasonable pace. It seems that the rest of the field disagreed with me, as I looked back to see a sizable gap to the field. Now, here is where I needed Adam with the idiot button. The smart thing to do would have been to sit up, let the field catch up to me, and continue to sit in. Instead I thought, "shit, I've got a gap, better hit the gas!!"

So, I accelerated up the rest of the climb, doing my best to catch up to the lead motorcycle. Before too long I caught it, and had nearly a minute's gap. I yelled to the moto official to ask him what the gap to the leaders was, and he flashed me five fingers, and then another five fingers -- 55 seconds -- this little conversation also made me feel very pro.

But, of course, before too long, the field started to pull me back. Eventually two riders came across, and we had a nice little three-man echelon going, but, right as we hit the base of the one climb, we got caught. Obviously, this is the worst spot you could get caught because you're exhausted, and now forced to recover while also keeping up with a hard pace on the climb. Needless to say, I didn't. I was off the back shortly there after, and rode the remainder of the race with three other riders, and we all finished about 10 minutes down.

Adam, who seems not to need an idiot button of his own, finished safely in the pack, his best result yet in this race. I'm hoping that I at least managed to defend my top-100, but results have not yet been posted. I'll get those posted tomorrow.

Tomorrow's stage is by far the hardest in this race. 28 flat miles are followed by a climb up the monstrous (think Denali) "Middlebury Gap," a white knuckle decent, then twin climbs up the "baby" (this is perhaps the least apt name in all of bike racing), and finally a finishing climb up the opposite side of the "Appalachian Gap." So that should be fun. I was planning on using a "Retro-Rassmussen" tactic on tomorrow's stage -- going on a solo, multi-hour, break away over at least two mountains passes to take the stage win and the climber's jersey (this is what Rassmussen did before he got greedy and took the yellow jersey) -- but after today's failure of a break away, I think I'm going to play it safe and just try to sit in for as long as I can. Besides, Rassmussen definatly cheats. That's all for now, enjoy!