When I lined up for the Tour de Park City this year I was different.
In 2008 I got dropped early and chased for 65 miles alone. I had the
worst cramps I’ve ever experienced. It crushed me. I lasted longer in
2009, still got dropped on the big climb, chased well but lost a
three-way sprint for 7th. Each year of racing experience made me fear
the event less. I had enough good finishes under my belt this season
that I believed I would be on the podium.

Performance differences are enormous depending on the condition of the
mind before and during the effort: go in relaxed and certain, or go in
apprehensive, with a nagging subconscious and see how each plays out.
I have seen it over and over, especially in the context of endurance,
where effort is long enough for introspective soul-searching and
negotiation to occur. Even in our gym, in the context of strength and
power I see what the mind’s involvement can produce, both positive and
negative. If you don’t believe you can do it you can’t. If you believe
you can do it, and that belief is founded on actual experience, on
truth, then you can. You cannot out-perform your self-image, unless
pushed beyond it by something out of your control. Progress and
overcoming can be driven by one or two acts: do the work, practice,
pay attention, improve performance to the degree that self-image
evolves, dragging performance with it, or take the headlong dive into
a situation you may not be equal to and hope to God you are more
capable than you believe.

The race unfolded like that same, tired story: 7-8 guys were willing
to work on the front while the rest hid from the wind and let that
work be done. When I found myself out front I smiled as I flashed back
to the races where that (typical) human behavior pissed me off. This
time though it didn’t enrage me. Instead I recognized what was
happening and I forgave. In a shorter race guys will hide out and save
themselves for the sprint finish, which I think is pathetic but I
accept it as a strategy. In a race of this grandeur though I think
guys hide out because they are nervous or scared, and rightfully so.
The subconscious tells them they’re in for a really rough day so they
try to spare themselves as much agony as possible. There may be a few
who think that if they save themselves they might be able to race or
to play a part when the main guys dig in and go. It is fantasy but it
keeps them going, and it doesn’t affect me. As The Reverend once told
me, “they are behind for a reason.”

As far as I could tell, the 40-man field hung together for the first
half of the race but I wasn’t looking back much. When the pre-climb
climbing began 80-85 miles into it a few guys increased the tempo.
Riders began dropping immediately. I stuck with the break and my legs
were “there” whenever I needed them. That feedback reinforced my
belief in myself. Within a relatively short distance six of us shelled
the rest of the field. I knew it was the winning move and this time I
was not surprised to be in it. I believed.

We were three climbers and three rouleurs. With 45-50 miles from Bald
Mountain Pass to the finish we needed each other. The deal was struck
and we stayed together on the climb. Even though it was the Masters
35B field it felt like real racing. The best climber could have
dropped the rest of us at any time – he was that much better. But we
would have caught him during the last third of the race if he attacked
on the climb so he stuck with us. And we extended our lead.

On the descent one guy sat up ever so briefly to deal with some hip
flexor cramps and we coasted away from him. At first it was a mere 30m
gap but no matter how hard he pedaled he could not bridge it. It’s
amazing how selfless teamwork changes to cutthroat, selfish
competition in a heartbeat, where truces are agreed to and broken
according to conditions – and the proximity of the finish line. It was
too bad to lose an ally and that maintaining the break had just become
harder but it meant one less guy to worry about at the end. We dropped
another guy about 25 miles from the finish. Suddenly – barring the
unforeseen – the worst I could finish was 4th. In any prior season, or
in any earlier race this year that realization would have buoyed me.
But on the day fourth wasn’t good enough for me. I vowed to be smart.

Every time I sensed a lull or a tiny bit of complacency I went to the
the front and increased the pace. I pushed just hard enough that the
cramps were twinges but not crippling. Something in me wanted to prove
a point. I wanted to crush the smack-talkers and posers. I’d been on
the receiving end of what we were dishing out and it didn’t feel good.
I wanted others to feel that pain. This feeling of competition is new
to me. I never got it from climbing. There was certainly a hierarchy
in alpine climbing and we all knew who had done what and how hard it
had been. But conditions on a given peak or route differed from ascent
to ascent, and according to the style used, so competitive comparisons
were abstract. On the road, on the day, it is all the same and the
results are printed in black and white. It may be good to receive …
but it feels WAY better to “give”.

The late-race attacks began about three miles out, all nullified,
painfully. We went four-up into a complex series of 90-degree corners
and a very short sprint – all of us were surprised at how short it
was, maybe 50 meters. Exiting the last corner I was second wheel and
charging hard but the line came quicker than the guy ahead faded. I
gave it everything I had, cramping badly while crossing the line.

It was a great day on the bike. A day when I never doubted myself,
when I matched every acceleration, when there was no nagging voice
telling me to save myself for later or counseling that I could not
maintain the pace, that the suffering was not worth it. I’ve raced
against those voices. I have lost to them. But today the positive
voice was ascendant. I believed. And my belief was founded on earlier
experience – at Elkhorn, at the Dead Dog Classic, on training rides
with Josh – it wasn’t hopeful, or hollow. It was truth.

Schleck comment source here:
http://mobile.podiumcafe.com/2010/7/27/1590629/the-duel-how-contador-made-a-new

Rain or not, I am sure the cobbles will be wet tomorrow with tears.

First off, in the interest of clarity, I love watching individuals
push themselves beyond their own self-imposed limits, and past limits
established by consensus thinking. I love crushing myself that I may
eventually improve. I am afraid of and enjoy everything attending that
process. What I cannot condone is the shortcuts taken to achieve what
appears to be a similar result. A result that is instead transparent
and indefensible. I hate cheating and cheaters.

Whether destroying myself to recreate me or fighting an
“establishment” that would prevent me from evolution and growth, the
idea of starting over is strong. My climbing career was built on the
ashes of having burned ideas down and reshaped them from their
remaining, raw elements. It seems that – whether it is realistic or
not – professional cycling is due for such a fire.

Because I am new and I want to cure my ignorance I read stuff about
cycling on the internet. A while ago I stumbled across a blog written
in response to Floyd Landis’ slash-and-burn confession. I recognized
the author’s name as that of a rider I photographed at the 1997 CX
Nationals when I covered the event for Men’s Journal. I searched back
through files (of actual slide film) to put the name together with the
face of Adam Myerson. He is no less dedicated, flamboyant or
opinionated now than he was 13 years ago – meaning he is a true
believer.

His thesis regarding doping and the current culture of professional
cycling is simple: destroy, then recreate.

His point of view may not be shared by everyone but I agree that the
hypocrisy of the system is disgusting. Operation Puerto was stalled
then shut down. Why? One rumor suggested it was because pro soccer
players were involved and we can’t have the world’s preeminent sport
be dirty now can we? Pro sports in the US, the big ones, suffer from
their own (few) scandals and when one or two 3rd
stringers get popped they are held as examples of how the checks and
balances work. Anti-doping hypocrisy is further evident in the
persecution of non-mainstream athletes and sports (cycling, Nordic
skiing, etc) while WADA and the public volunteer a blind eye to the
mainstream sports that make money and power, politics and careers.
WADA and the other policing agencies revel in the headway they make
against doping in the minor sports that are blips on the radar of the
spending public while ignoring PED practices in the major sports.

I’ve no beef with doping if it simply levels the field. And if doping
activity is open and declared. That said I feel sorry for the
so-damn-close-I-can-taste-it racer who said ‘no’ to drugs but
continued trying to race in Europe anyway. Because eventually the
negative feedback loop would become an intolerable, soul-crushing
weight. And force one to question the nature of man, or whether the
species should be allowed to survive … OK, maybe not that bad but
rough anyway.

If the race organizers insist upon making the grand tours so hard,
i.e. the last three days of this year’s Giro, a racer might be excused
for using every possible means to survive. Tifosi demand for
escalating grand tour difficulty is the equivalent of baseball fans’
demand for more home runs or the soccer fans’ desire to see 2×45
minutes of non-stop lung-searing intervals. If race organizers want to
provide fans a spectacle equivalent to Bonds blasting them out of the
park then they should expect riders to do whatever it takes to compete
within that context. You want it? You got it. Here’s the new price:
the players must use drugs to appease you.

As it stands today (IMO) fans want to witness racing without limits,
and race organizers are willing to provide it. Anti-doping agencies
are selective in both practices and enforcement. Governing bodies are
more interested in grabbing and retaining power than in wise
governance. Ethical arguments against this culture and behavior demand
change but incremental and disorganized efforts are ineffective. So
perhaps Floyd Landis is right: the whole thing must be destroyed. And
after a great big bonfire the riders, race organizers, administration,
and governing bodies must all work together to rebuild it.

On the other hand, when Floyd — or any caught-and-become-repentant
doper — was on the road making money by winning while under the
influence doping was personally acceptable and he could live with
himself. A midlife crisis of conscience isn’t a good enough reason to
drag your friends into the muck you landed in after the fall.

I don’t want to see the sport I love destroyed but I would gladly toss
a Mason jar of gasoline from my place in the cheap seats if it’s the
only way to keep that sport alive.

Adam Myerson’s original post about Floyd:
http://www.cycle-smart.com/blog/2010/05/20/pretty-boy-floyd

Just so you know. The free glasses with the Giro helmet deal at Realcyclist.com. Well the glasses are not cheapo’s they are tossing in a FREE pair of Giro Filters, retail is over $200!

If you are OK with being a lifer in the 4’s then sitting in all day because you are a “sprinter” is a great tactic. As a 4 though I think it is a bit premature to label yourself as a specific type of rider. I see it every year when a new crop of Cat 2’s arrive. Guys who won sprints in the 3’s are non factors in the 1-2’s, guys who won hilly races get dropped on the first climb. It is not because they are bad at these things it is usually because they have become one trick ponies and have never really learned to race their bikes up to this point because they never had to, they got by on sheer strength. They always raced their strength and never rounded out their skill set. Most people squander their time in the lower categories and don’t take advantage of the learning opportunities. They think strength is all that is needed to upgrade. In every state their are Cat 4’s that throw down times in Hill Climbs that would put them on the podium in the 1-2 race but I guarantee that 99% of them would get shelled if they started a hilly road race with the 1-2 field. Tom Danielson is a good example of this in the Pro Tour.

4-5’s, go race your damn bikes. Don’t chase the break, bridge, then work. Attack when it is hard not easy. Serious, don’t be afraid.

53:11

Cold water is good for the legs. Go fish!

The forecast promised cold, wet weather. I’ve been doing my homework
though and I wanted to test my clothing solutions as well as my legs
and my head. I knew what I was getting into. I relished it.

When referee blew the start whistle it was 43 degrees, with light
rain, the promise of more, and of course – being right next to the
Snake River in Idaho – wind. Our field was 15 strong when we crossed
the line. The first selection happened two miles into the race: a
couple of short, sharp pitches cut the field to eight or nine. Two
guys got away. They stayed out for about ten miles but we caught them
after turning into the wind. And it was détente. One or two dropped as
we passed the start/finish line halfway into the race. The temptation
of a warm car was strong indeed.

The relaxed state of affairs allowed me to learn more about the wind.
Head-on it’s clear where to hide, and how strong one needs to be. To
escape in a headwind, to ride away from the field, that’s the stuff of
legends. The course gave us wind from 90-degrees left and right, 3/4s,
and a 1/4 of each, but relieved us with a tailwind section too. It was
a good schooling. I watched throughout as guys tried to rewarm their
hands, complained about the cold, and hid from the wind.

Some were surprisingly adroit at hiding from it. I found myself up
front for most of the second upwind leg. Seriously. I took a long,
long pull, then slowed and signaled for someone else to work. No one
did. OK, I’m alright with that. I gave them as little as possible: I
put it in the gutter every time I was up front to keep riders from
receiving the whole benefit of my work. Everyone said “nice pull”
whenever I dropped back. Yeah, it was. Now why don’t you get up there
and work? Or do you want me to take another? I’ll do it. Because this
is what I am here for.

I’m not here to save myself. I am here to destroy myself. I am not
here for the smart if smart means shirking the work. I am here for The
Hard. It may look like I’m here to lose or give the race away. But
when I win one I will have fucking earned it.

I don’t get it. We’re amateurs. It’s a hobby. The sport is tough. That
difficulty makes the feeling of finishing well after having utterly
smashed yourself so satisfying. I know that feeling. I wonder what it
feels like to finish after having sat in, after having done the bare
minimum for 99% of the race. I wonder what it feels like to shoot to
the line on reasonably fresh legs ahead of the chasing, faltering
pack. Is it a good feeling, that win? It must be. Still, why are
people unwilling to work hard enough to smash and redefine themselves?

Back on the road and knowing that, if someone didn’t shake things up
and probably even if they did, the race would be decided in the last
500m, a few of us attacked. All digs were countered or stymied by the
terrain or the wind. The sprint happened on a sort of false flat. It
was still fast. I lost.

And I was ready for more.

There was a polite interval to stop shivering and eat before the Time
Trial. Then came an even more polite apology canceling the TT.

It was colder by then, still raining, and of course, windy but that’s
not exactly why they canceled it. A lot of racers dropped or finished
the road race with varying degrees of hypothermia. The organizer
deemed it either unsafe or unkind to have them do that twice in one
day.

If I wanted to play Tee Ball I’d have joined a league or settled for
softball. If I wanted to be comfortable, or safe for that matter I
wouldn’t be bike racing.

Hey, if you can’t take care of yourself I understand. If you made a
mistake I understand. But I came prepared. And I came tough. And I
want the chance to express the whole of my “fitness” out there in the
elements on the race course. Does my preparation give me an advantage?
Hell yeah. And it should. Does the other guy’s lack of preparation or
his mistake put him at a disadvantage? I’ve worn those shoes and the
answer is yes. In fact, he may have beat me in the short run but
canceling the second stage of today’s race stripped me of my
opportunity to have been faster in the long run.

If it’s too hard, quit. If you’re too cold, quit. If you think it’s
too dangerous, quit. But don’t punish those who want The Hard, who
aren’t cold and are willing to take the risk. I signed the waiver
absolving the organization for a reason: I am willing. When you make
it easier it’s still bike racing but it’s no longer stage racing.

It might be hard. It might be cold. I have to change clothes. I have
to rewarm myself, to eat, and drink. I have to recover after the first
race. I have to let the post-race let-down go. I have to change bikes
and positions. I have to psyche up for more battle. I must be ready
when the countdown ends.

When you take out all of that the sport becomes something different.
And not what I came here to do. At least not today.

53:11

Great time to get a new helmet. Real Cyclist will throw in some kick ass glasses with you new Giro!

How good is the Giro this year? For us Yanks we have Tyler Farrar with 2 stage wins and today Craig Lewis almost pulled of a huge, huge win. Tomorrow they hit the Dolomites and I cant imagine we are not gonna see attacks like we have never seen before. Looking at the GC I have to tip my hat to Tondo. Even before the favorites took a nap the other day he is probably the best climber in the race. He will need to be smart and not chase everything but I really think you will see him in pink soon. As for Cadel, Vino, Basso etc. they have no choice but to put it all out there. Don’t be surprised if you see Astsana, Liquigas and what is left of BMC on the front driving it from kilometer 1. We know Vino is not afraid to go for the long one and Cadel’s nuts seem to have finally dropped so I am sure he will give it a go as well. All i know is as awesome as the Giro has been thus far I think we have a perfect storm brewing and some amazing new chapters in the legends of cycling will be writing tomorrow.

State side we have a real dog fight going on in Cali. I scared the shit out an old lady walking by my house as I was yelling at my iMac screen when Zabriskie won in Santa Cruz. Dave is an 801 homeboy and I have seen him winning races since he was 15. He has won stage in all 3 Grand Tours but that stage in Santa Cruz was something special, I don’t know to many people that can launch a sprint from 800 meters and hold it. He almost pulled it off again yesterday but Peter Sagan had other ideas. The Gods of The Big RIng have certainly favored that lad yeah?

Today is the first big test though to see who is for real in the GC. Levi, Rogers and Zabriskie all seem to think the Big Bear stage wont be hard enough to break things up but I am not so sure. I don’t think that one of them will blow it up solo but if anyone cracks then it is game over. I think they will hit it hard but I also think they will all be trying to keep some in the tank for the TT tomorrow.

I really am scratching me head on who to favor in the TT. Rogers has a few rainbow jerseys in his closet and has been riding out of his head all season. Levi hasn’t lost a TT in Cali in a while but I just doe not seem to be as sharp as normal. Zabriskie for me is the big question mark. We all know what he can do on a TT bike but Dave himself has said he his good legs have not shown up this year, until 2 days ago that is. I think Dave has something to prove (for a lot of reasons), assuming he make it to Big Bear in good shape I think Z is the man for the overall.

53:11

Support those who support The Big Ring!

For the riders I suspect the Giro is more Hell than Heaven. Just look at the expression on Cadel Evans face when he won Stage 7. That was not a look of joy. That was a look of “thank God that shit storm is over, get me out of this fucking chamois!” Then again Cadel never really looks all that happy. Still though it is great to see him riding so well with the rainbow stripes. Now if only Von would crack… As bad as Stage 7 must have been for the riders it is the mechanics that really dealt with the Hell on that stage. I am sure it was a very late night of striping the bike down to the frame and rebuilding everything. Good times

Rock on Ronnie \m/

1) If you think you can’t you are right. Always. In our gym and
seminars we discuss the idea of self-imposed limitation, and preach
the idea to others. But knowing something and saying it is not the
same as practicing it. To prevent thinking and fulfilling those
thoughts that prevent us from expressing true potential requires
persistent vigilance. If I think I can only go at a particular
intensity for two minutes I have already decided that three minutes at
that pace is impossible. But is it?

2) Constant self-interrogation and honest answers are essential. When
undertaking any difficult task we must ask ourselves, “Am I going
hard? Am I doing the maximum possible within this context? Could I
push a bit more?” It is easy to unconsciously ease off the gas, and to
believe the threshold effort of one minute ago is the same as what is
happening right now. So ask yourself the question. Be ruthless and
critical in reply. Don’t dress up the answer in excuses or
half-truths.

3) Training is not racing. No matter how hard one trains it is
impossible to go as deep as one will go on the day, racing or
fighting, with the chips on the table. And those who only train but
never compete or test themselves happily convince themselves that what
they are doing is hard, or hard enough. When I am training it is easy
to sit up after an interval has been hard for a while. It’s easy to
say, “that’s good enough.” On the road, reacting to others, I can’t
sit up until they decide to do so. And perhaps in so doing I break
through my own self-imposed limitations.

4) Racing is racing. In a test of pure fitness pacing strategies
affect the outcome but few other tactics carry much weight. On the
road, in a group, understanding which attacks to chase and which to
let go might be the difference between being there to contest the
finishing sprint or blowing up a few miles before the line. Knowing
when to sit in and recover, which is directly tied to self-knowledge,
and doing so without shirking the responsibility to do one’s work on
the front, is another key to remaining viable until the finish.
Patience is often rewarded. Experience matters. Stubbornness is for
mules.

5) The tank is deeper than conscious thought allows. There is always
something left to burn if the fire of one’s will is hot enough. Josh
went on a break with one other guy. After he cracked and blew up Josh
continued on his own, eventually building a lead of over five minutes
on the peloton. At one point Josh blew past a friend whose category
was on the course at the same time who later said, “when I saw Josh
frothing at the mouth with the pedal buried I knew he is doing damage
to whoever was chasing.” A long time ago I met someone with a similar
disposition, a brilliant climber with a highly evolved pain threshold,
for whom standard definitions of effort fell short. He was willing to
hurt himself – perhaps permanently – to get what he wanted from the
mountains. One day when we were discussing caloric needs he told me
that there is always something left to burn, “even if it’s brain
matter.” Back then, his outlook reduced my own ideas about pain and
suffering to rubble. These days some things I see on the bike have a
similar effect.

MFT