Tour d'Burg

While the rest of the world focuses on the Tour de France, Sunday my focus was on the Tour d'Burg (short for Miamisburg). While the best cyclists in the world roll past wineries, chateaus, and French farmland, the best cyclists in Ohio rolled past shirtless dudes with mullets and Daytonian suburbia with a hint of reefer. That's right. For the second year in a row, the Tour d'Burg would play host to the Ohio State Criterium Championships. And for the third year in a row, yours truly was there.

Coming off of a solid performance the day before and having finished second in the state last year, confidence was running high. I again had the whole family on hand to provide for the largest cheering section (special thanks again to everyone and to Chad for the photos), so lining up at the front for the start was easy; getting clipped into my pedals was another story. This is why lining up and staying at the front is important; it keeps you out of trouble. After some difficulty, I managed to settle myself down and begin battling for position. About five laps in, and all but a few of us were still jostling. There would be the occasional unsuccessful attack on the front, but largely, it seemed like the rest of the group had been broken like rented mules. Everyone just putting in an appearance and keeping the crit uneventful.

No complaints here. After barrelling through a cobbled section and getting closed out in a turn (I've never gripped the bars so hard. I thought my hands would fuse to the drops!), I was just happy not to have gone down. I felt great overall during the race. My legs had loosened up and I even managed to shoot my wife a smile about midway though. I'd been working on some speed techniques and decided to try them during the race. While staying in the same gear, I try to raise my cadence (rpm) but not my effort. I call it "keeping my legs light" (which is what I repeat to myself in my head). It seems to keep the lactic acid out of my legs while keeping my speed high.

I held steady at the front and had great position on the final few laps (which were miscounted by the officials). Despite this error and despite not getting out of the saddle for the sprint, I still managed a respectable eighth place (which would've been third had they counted laps

correctly). This is the kind of retrospective thinking to be careful of; over-analyzing, second guessing, hindsight etcetera. If you asked me during the field sprint if I gave it my all, I could not have answered you. I could barely breathe. Had you asked me again afterwards, I would have said that I should have gone earlier.

If instead of continuing this discussion with your conscience, you choose to learn from it, you will be rewarded. Next week, we will see if my experience pays dividends.

Troy Classic

This Saturday marked my third participation in the Troy Classic on the Square Criterium; easily one of my favorite events and this year was even better. The race looks extremely technical on paper. It features ten turns in a downtown setting, a roundabout, and stiff headwinds coming off the Little Miami river. Oh and did I mention that light rain was in the forecast. The kind of rain not hard enough to slow the pace, but light enough to shatter collar bones, put people into barriers, and nearly stop a field sprint on the final lap. It all happened. Despite the carnage, the course was in excellent shape with roads wide enough to hit every turn at full gas. This race has it all.

I came into the race with some serious apprehension. For one, I'd be racing with the CAT 3s in a fifty-three man field. CAT 3 should be synonymous with guys capable of inflicting long drawn-out efforts of pain. Guys capable of going right from the gun and soloing to victory (which is pretty much what happened). Secondly, this was to be my first race in awhile and on an inferior bike. Now, before you go on about, "the bike shouldn't matter, you're the engine." I know. It's a psychological advantage. Psychology is a huge advantage in any sport, particularly cycling. Enter my psychological advantage: the family. I found out a few hours before the start that my folks and a few of my in-laws would be in attendance. Partly to watch me and partly for the kids race that was to precede the Pro 1/2 race. No pressure.

It wouldn't be so bad if I got dropped and ended up riding the last few laps by myself, would it? You know, just to say that I didn't quit. That I stuck it out like some punch-drunk pugilist. I would get a few atta-boys. I'd still be a champion to my kids. Not so bad right? No. Not today. If sparing myself embarrassment meant only sticking with the pack, then so be it. At least I wouldn't be finishing with my tail between my legs. But I would have regrets...

For me, the 2009 edition of the Troy Classic can be split into three acts. The opener: wind and wheel sucking fury. Jostling for position. This is how most crits begin. Soon enough your lungs and legs adjust and you can switch your focus from survival to strategy. Intermission: ten laps of planning, saving energy, and finding out who to stay away from. On this day, I was that guy. I forgot how to corner. I couldn't turn to safe my life. This may have been me over-thinking the turns or perhaps revisiting the pile of very expensive carbon that assembled itself in front of me on the roundabout. Whatever it was, I managed to lock-up my rear wheel twice. I finally was able to regain my composure in time for the endgame (this after nearly crapping myself and receiving plenty of advice from the peloton). The finale: yo-yoing speed, going four-wide into the corners, and guys taking stupid risks; your standard criterium finish. I just held my place and with two to go, made my way to the front all the while thinking, "Dude, do you want that position or not?"

Hitting the final trip around the roundabout, I had a feeling of relief. Relief at being finished, at finishing respectably (I was 10th at the time), at finishing safely. Whoops, almost spoke too soon. With a flash of smoke and exploding rubber the two guys in front of me went down. In almost slow motion, I ride between their broken bikes and bodies while someone shouts, "Don't stop! Go, go, go!" My lost momentum costs me a few spots and letting up before the line costs me two more (a mistake I will never make again) for 15th. Good enough for one point. I'll take it.

The kids ended up being the real winners on the day as they seemed to enjoy themselves during the kids race. Medals and lollipops for all! Having the family there really meant a lot and helped keep me going. More riding and a few more races this week and then back to SC.

Lowcountry Boil

Get ready to get messy. If you live along the southeastern coast, specifically the Low Country, you're probably familiar with this dish. It is a summer tradition. It is akin to the hot dogs, hamburgers, and potato salad of the Midwest and it is simple. Invite about six friends over, break out your crab-crackers and cocktail sauce, and strap on a bib; eating this is a sport.

The base:

In a large Dutch oven, brown some chopped onions in olive oil. Add garlic, peppercorns, chopped tomatoes (fresh or canned), small new or fingerling potatoes, a bay leaf and some Old Bay or Cajun seasoning.

Cover and simmer on low heat until potatoes soften.

Now the good stuff; the seafood triumvirate.

With about ten minutes to go, jack up the heat, add the following, give a quick stir, and steam.

Crab: true veterans of this dish will insist on whole, local blue crabs. I find these to be too much work for too little reward. Go straight for King Crab legs.

Shrimp: a couple of pounds, shell on. If you want to get really authentic and super cheap, grab these off the boat or catch them yourself.

The Wild Card: this one is up to you. Lobster tails, mussels, even chunks of fish.

Top with a few broken ears of corn and cover.

This dish is best eaten outside. Cover a table with newspaper, dump it all out, lightly season and dive in. Plenty of napkins and cocktail sauce are necessary at this point. Wash down with a delicious Lager (or four).

The Title?

By now, if you're like me, you may be wondering (or perhaps not): what's up with the title of your blog? Yeah. Truth is, up until a last week, I really had no idea. As I sat on my bike, suffering, sucking wind, and watching the wheels in front of me pull away, I was unceremoniously dropped. I thought, "well, it was the best I could do." It's a mantra that I repeat in my daily life; at work, at home, in my mind. It's an excuse. It's an outright lie. It's the kind of thing, that if someone were to say to me, I would say "bullsh*t!" I know I can do better, I choose not to.

My chest nearly exploding, legs shattered, I drop into a lower gear and try to recover. On the road ahead, the group was splintered by the relentless pace and others are dropped. I start to recover. I start to think, "I can do better." Back into a bigger gear, I lift my cadence and focus on gobbling up the stragglers. One by one, we are re-integrated (though not completely) and my revelation is complete. Perhaps I should adopt the new title. I can do better.

The simple power of suggestion makes a huge difference. Wanting to do better and holding myself accountable have already begun to show results. Am I ready to change my title? Not yet. I kind of like the old one. At the time, it was born of my writing and lack of a better title. I'm not a writer so I'll tell my stories in the best way that I can, hence it's the best that I could do.

My parents often told me that if I do my best, then that is all that anyone could ever ask of you. Anyone except yourself. It is always easy to second guess yourself afterwards. "Was it really my best?" "Could I have done better?" "Maybe I should have done..." But if you ask yourself to do your best, and then at the moment when you feel you've done your best, tell yourself that you can do better, you probably will. Time to change the title? Nah. For now, it's the best I could do.

The Stare

I used to be able to hypnotize myself. I could get my brain to enter a hyper-sensory hibernation mode. I did this by staring at people doing mundane things. By focusing so intently on their accomplishment of some menial task, I was able to leave my body and become an observer from a different perspective. Sound weird? It is.

Put yourself in a public place, out in the open, and divorce yourself from everything (church is a good place to try this). Begin watching people until you find someone doing a completely thankless task; shelving books, mopping a floor, folding clothes. When you feel a wave washing over your brain, much like a pins and needles effect, it's working. Don't fight it. Soon you will be an observer from a different perspective; that of the person you were watching! I told you it was weird. Your brain and body are left completely behind like a TV that has been shutoff and crackles with static electricity.

The spell can be snapped in several ways: when you want it to, when the person your watching stops what their doing, or if someone physically touches you. You will feel like being awoke from a deep sleep. Refreshed, confused, rebooted. Try it. Get disconnected.

Bellum omnium contra omnes

"I show in the first place that the state of men without civil society (which state may be called the state of nature) is nothing but a war of all against all; and that in that war, all have a right to all things"

"When God speaketh to man, it must be either immediately or by mediation of another man, to whom He had formerly spoken by Himself immediately. How God speaketh to a man immediately may be understood by those well enough to whom He hath so spoken; but how the same should be understood by another is hard, if not impossible, to know. For if a man pretend to me that God hath spoken to him supernaturally, and immediately, and I make doubt of it, I cannot easily perceive what argument he can produce to oblige me to believe it."

"This considered, the kingdom of darkness… is nothing else but a confederacy of deceivers that, to obtain dominion over men in this present world, endeavour, by dark and erroneous doctrines, to extinguish in them the light…."

Thomas Hobbes

from Leviathan

ca. 1651

Christmas in July

I've decided to spend this July 4th in France. Actually, I'll be spending the better part of the entire month there with some brief visits to Monaco, Switzerland, Spain, and Italy. Sounds like a great trip and all from the comfort of my living room.

For the past twenty-three years I've been watching the Tour de France. I can remember growing up and watching the pageantry of the Tour. I became fixated with the amazing scenery, throngs of people, place names, and cycling. I can remember Greg Lemond battling for an 8 second win on the Tour's last stage, Miguel Indurain winning five Tours in a row, Lance's seven, and the ugliness of the Festina and Landis doping scandals. Each one different. Each one with a story. The 2003 Tour remains my favorite. I sat on the edge of my couch and watched every second of it. I even watched every replay. This year will be no different.

My wife says that in July she becomes a 'Tour widow'. I spend more time with my British friends Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen than anyone else. These guys are far and away the best commentators in the world. The mountains and towns of France and the cyclists' names roll out like poetry. Mountains like the Col du Marie Blanc, Le Mont Ventoux, Col du Galibier, or L'Alpe d'Huez. Cities like La Grand Bornand, Toulouse, Saint-Ettienne, or Futurescope. Even cycling terms or names sound like a thing of beauty; Mailliot Jeaune, le tete de le course, Sylvain Chavenel. The French even call the winds that blow across their countryside le Mistral. Say it. Le Mistral. L'Aple d'Huez. What is not to love?

This year's Tour promises to be one for the ages. The field is literally wide open. All the dopers have been left at home (hopefully) and the finale will likely be decided on the next to the last day on the slopes of the Ventoux. Will Carlos Sastre defend? Will Alberto Contador continue his dominance or become embroiled with teammate Lance Armstrong's quest for an eighth? Will there be a new winner? Eventually I will go to see the Tour. Until then, I'll stay tuned.