bike ♥ from Rick Darge on Vimeo.

I used to spend hours at the park near my house practicing my cyclocross dismounts and remounts, in July. The dog walkers and frisbee players looked at me like I was an escaped mental patient. Who cares, they were balanced. I was not, to a spectacular degree. I would say most of the people I race with are the same. In the pro’s it is even more so. Consider this quote from Lance Armstong:

‘Once someone asked me what pleasure I got out of riding my bike for so long. “Pleasure?” I asked. “I don’t understand the question. I didn’t do it for pleasure. I did it for pain”.’

Balanced? I don’t think so. Einstein couldn’t remember his own address, Eddie Van Halen used to practice 8 hours a day, Sean Kelly famously said his wife was 3rd in his order of loves (Bike and car being 1 and 2). These are not balanced people and thank god for that!

Stop playing fantasy footbal, sell your golf clubs, stop watching the news. Go and kick balance in the junk. Ride your bike when you should be working, ride your bike in the snow, ride your bike during the Super Bowl. Ride your bike.
53:11

Only through the group, I realized — through sharing the suffering of the group — could the body reach that height of existence that the individual alone could never attain. And for the body to reach that level at which the divine might be glimpsed, a dissolution of individuality was necessary. The tragic quality of the group was also necessary, the quality that constantly raised the group out of the abandon and torpor into which it was prone to lapse, leading it to an ever-mounting shared suffering and so to death, which was the ultimate suffering. The group must be open to death — which meant, of course, that it must be a community of warriors.
“Sun and Steel” Yukio Mishima

The group ride, this is where the magic happens. Back when I was a young and hungry Cat 4 I attached myself to the fastest group of guys in town. These guys were not friendly, in fact they seemed to enjoy humiliating newbies. The first time I showed up they made fun of my bike, my clothes (I didn’t have any real riding clothing) and my height (the basketball courts are down the street). In the 2 miles before I got dropped I got screamed at for not holding my line, not pointing out shit on the road, and not knowing how a pace line worked. When I got gapped off the team leader came back and told me not to come back tomorrow. Well I did come back and I did get dropped again. I kept coming back every week and every week I learned a little more. By the end of the summer I still couldn’t hang with the front group but on most rides I did hang with the second group. I know how to ride in an echelon, I knew how to be smooth in the group, I pointed shit out, I knew when to change the direction of the pace line when the wind switched. Most important I had earned their respect, I learned the sport and I earned my spot.

While it is admirable to go out and slog through the hours it takes to develop the engine, if you forsake the group ride you will never be complete. You will never earn your spot. The group is also where loyalty is learned, friendships are forged, suffering is shared. Some people never really get this part. You know the ones, bounce from team to team, always looking for “the deal”, always making excuses for why they are not winning. Some of these folks eventually figure it out, most don’t.

Other than the Eddy Merckx quote of “ride lots” the number one thing most riders can do to get better is to find a regular group ride. Show up, pay attention, give back and all the magic will be revealed.

53:11

All I do know now is I am not racing. Will I toe the line this season? Right now it feels like no. That should make me sad but right now I am pretty comfortable saying that. I just feel like training and racing right now is not helping me move forward in life. Since 1989 most of my waking moments have revolved around the bike. I don’t regret it and if I could go back I would not change it. I am still riding a fair amount but it would be a stretch to say I am training. My heart just is not in it right now.

I talk about being Big Ring and how people need to HTFU on here a lot. I guess that makes me a hypocrite. Maybe it does, I really don’t care. Right now I have questions that I don’t think I can answer racing a bike. Tomorrow that may be different but today that is where I am.

39:26

2011, shit what a season. Not what I planned that is for sure. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and hell is for sure where I have traveled. The result for me is I never pinned a number on. Two huge loses and the ensuing depression are what did me in. For Mark Twight different reasons but the same result. Nowhere near the saddle time this year. Next year will be different, it has to be.
The Rev

After a good 2010 season I worked hard through the winter. I intended
to continue progressing. Besides, I moved up to the 3s, which meant
Masters A, and I was running scared. Along the way, life happened, a
job was offered and accepted, the travel began and the importance of
the 2011 racing season disappeared.

I could have attended some races in the various locations I have lived
this year but the drive to do so simply wasn’t there. Instead I rode
and explored. The first ten weeks around Los Angeles were incredible.
I never thought I’d find the quality riding I did around Agoura and
Thousand Oaks, and even out in the Valley past Sylmar, where the
Little and Big Tujunga canyons give access to Forest Service land and
beautiful roads. I racked up the climbing. The area average is 100
feet per mile so a 50-mile ride around the Malibu Canyons would net
5000′ of climbing. The weather was never an issue. The car-bike
relations about normal. And the terrain never monotonous. Looking
back, I regret not riding every goddamned day.

Trying to get away in the Matteson criterium - held every Tuesday.

Because sooner or later the other boot will drop.

My next stop was the midwest. Specifically, the suburbs west of
Chicago. During my time there I watched the corn grow from scrub to an
seven foot-high wall hemming in the pan flat roads. It was more humid
than a Utah boy could tolerate. There were tornado sirens and they
sounded a few times. My friend started one crit under cloudy skies and
finished when they cut it short as the marble-sized hail pelted racers
toward shelter. Riders are not respected and the shoulders gritty and
narrow. I traded the compact crank for big boy rings and learned to
push the gear. Sustaining >20mph across featureless plains for five
hours is totally different from riding up a canyon and 8-10mph and
plunging down at 35-45 to achieve a 18mph average for the same
duration. The flat road cooks you deeper, differently … no basting,
just constant, intense heat. I like that part – the cooking. But hated
everything that went with it.

West of Aurora but east of Sheridan, Illinois. 103 miles and barely over 1000 of elevation gain.

The work took me to Sydney for two weeks, where the short, punchy
hills and winter weather were a refreshing change. Then on to St.
Johns, Newfoundland where the hills were similarly steep, the weather
warmer, the people quite wonderful and the whole lands-end feeling
very powerful.

Newfoundland looks like nowhere else I've been. Maddox Cove on the rode south to Petty Harbor.

I returned to Illinois, which had not changed in the interim.

But I did return to the temptation of a local crit. It turned out to
be the ABA national championship, I warmed up in the 50+ race, and
after stupidly chasing down two different breaks had to sit up when
things lit up on the last lap and my legs said, “no more, thank you.”
I spun and ate to occupy the two hours before the next race. They ran
the 3s with the Pro/1/2 field. That scared me but I paid the fee, and
got ready for a fight. I lasted 30 one-mile laps before getting
dropped, then pulled when I was about to be caught by the leading
break of five. I watched the remaining nine laps from the roadside.
Man, the average speed was high, and I got 90 minutes of race-pace
intensity all packed in to one short day. I loved it. I managed to
attend a couple of more practice crits but for the most part I rode
long miles on the weekend to keep my head on straight.

The other day I read someone’s Tweet about the last race of the road
season and how it is time for ‘cross. I wondered how that season got
away. I’ve done good, engaging work during the year but I miss racing
my bike. I miss seeing the few guys I formed bonds with on the road
and in breaks or commiserating after an especially cold or difficult
day. Just as I did not think the lack of mountains in the midwest
would break my spirit, I didn’t imagine the lack of racing and testing
would leave such a void.

Now I find myself in Vancouver, where at least there are hills to
grind myself against but there won’t be racing unless I get on the
track. I might have to do that because I grew up in the northwest so I
know what’s coming. I bought full coverage fenders. I have a rain
jacket. I own neoprene booties. My messenger bag is waterproof. I
picked up some blinking light type things … the Burnaby Velodrome is
looking more and more attractive all of the time.

More attractive still is the idea of coming back to Utah to reacquaint
myself with all of the roads and races and people I used to take for
granted. This season is gone. The next season is coming.

The thing is the world is always changing. We can plan and work to create what we want and I believe that we do create our own reality but every once in a while the Universe will knock you on your ass just to remind you that you are not as clever as you think. That does not mean we should give up and accept there are things beyond out control in fact just the opposite. We have control and unlimited power. Getting a healthy dose of reality is just what we need to stay on track and not spiral into the comfort of self delusion. Get knocked down, get up. Ask yourself why you got knocked down, don’t blame, just be honest with yourself and do what needs to be done. I find the answers I don’t want to hear to be the ones I need to hear the most. Ask the hard questions.

* Hincapie is a PRO’s PRO, that turn he did leading into the climb took a lot of piss out a lot of guys.

* I think Horner needs to add Hushovd to the list of guys who can drop him on a climb.

* Contador is still a douche. Cat 5 attack too far from the line, sprinting on the hoods, raising his arm like he won. Douche

* Cadel was a study of patience today, he timed his sprint to perfection.

USA!