Slightly Faster Cyclist...

Still working on the looking good naked part.
With the holiday weather being what it was(cold and lousy) We got all our BBQing out of the way earlier in the weekend.  Leaving Monday open for some quality "me" time. Last night as I weighed my options, I decided to race in the Stan Crane Memorial XC Race.
The dozen or so Bratwurst I ate over the past two days was not helping at all in the diet department either.
Truth be told, I have never really been much of a mountain bike racer.  I have entered some races, I have organized a couple, but when it comes down to it, I've never been much of a racer.  In fact, this was to be the very first  ICUP race I had ever entered, despite people trying to talk me into it for years.  My logic has been that if I couldn't win, I didn't want to race.  Cyclocross has managed to drag the pride out of me, and the upcoming Crusher has created a need for high intensity riding that lasts longer than an hour.  The only people I thought I could drag along were Moody and Cobourn.  Since Cobourn is in Texas with the other arrogant bastards, and Moody was bowing out due to weather.  I went into this alone and frightened.
The weather was calling for snow above 5500 ft and rain all morning.  The trails in Corner Canyon can be delicate, as are the feelings of the locals who ride them.  The race was in doubt until 6 am this morning.  Once the word went out on Twitter that the race would go on, I threw my gear in a bag and headed for Draper.
The race had the exact feel of a really good Cyclocross race.  Cold and nasty.  I thought I was all set.  I brought a long sleeve jersey and some embrocation(for the non-cyclists this is like Ben-Gay you rub on your legs before a race so you can pretend it's not cold).  At least I thought I grabbed some embrocation.  What I grabbed in my haste was a tube of chamois cream which is applied to your crotchal region to prevent chafing on long rides.  Cold weather plan #1 fail.  Oh well, I threw on my long sleeve and headed out for a little warm up lap.  I was wearing a hoodie as well on the warm-up and when I came back I pulled it off to discover that my zipper had broken on the long sleeve.  Cold weather plan #2 fail.
With the wind blowing and intermittent rain drops I was one of only a few who rolled up to the start with bare arms and legs.  Later in the race, I noticed sweaty,soggy people who looked a lot less comfortable than I was. Cold weather pure dumb luck-win.
As I and the other Sport 35-39 racers rolled up to the start I felt a little out-gunned in the bike department.  I assumed this meant I was going to get a good shallaking.  But when the start was signaled I found myself duking it out for the hole-shot.  I sat up heading onto the single track because I thought I should save something for the rest of the race.  Through the lower section I stuck to the other guys wheel and by the time we went under the bridge we had a decent gap on the the rest of our category.  Other than one guy that passed us both on the switchback section.  I was feeling okay, not strong, but okay.  I tried not to get too excited that I might podium if I could hang on.  I held holeshot-guys wheel for the whole first lap, and pulled ahead of him just before the end of the first lap.  heading into the second lap I looked back and he was fading.  Yay for me.  Soon I was alone.  I couldn't see anybody in front of me, and I couldn't see anybody behind me.  Good racers take this opportunity to hammer and try to gap those who might be behind them.  I tend to sit up.  My legs were starting to fade, and of the racers I saw occasionally most of them were not in my category.  On the last big climb, I heard someone call out to pass.  I let him by and recognized that he was another guy from my category.  No excuses, I didn't have the legs to catch him.  I was still thinking I was in third place, and fighting cramps over the last mile or so, I crossed the line.
When the results started to go up on the board, I saw that I had indeed finished in third.
I called Kellie to brag, I told at least a dozen people, I asked Jake Weber to take my picture on the podium, then I walked over to the awards presentation and checked the board again.  Another name had been tacked onto the top of my category which bumped me off the podium and into fourth.  In itself, still a decent result, but the apparent shame of fourth position is reinforced by the pink ribbon you receive, and the "Tweety" chair that you sit in next to the podium for photos.  A child sized camp chair with a big picture of Tweety Bird.

How is it that fourth is more shameful than the dude that took fifth?  And why are either one of us called up for the podium?
Final Thoughts:
I did better than I thought I would.  I ran full tilt for two hours and twenty miles.  Maintaining a 170+ heart rate for most of that time.  The course was very much like Cyclocross.  No real rest and required a lot of body english to get through the mud and the muck.
Maybe the Crusher will be a little mellower.  Please God, let the Crusher be a little mellower.  If I can just settle into a groove, I think I will survive.

Crusher Dreams Part 2

The past week has been challenging.  I had been cruising along, not losing weight but not gaining any either.  Settled back into some questionable diet routines, but I was riding more to compensate.  For some reason Jeff and I decided to ride Thursday morning(36degrees), and lift Friday morning(50degrees). Thursday night I was able to sneak in a ride up the south side of Suncrest after work.  I felt pretty good about it.  I had researched the "official" time trial, and was going to see how I stacked up.  Luckily, it was the warmest ride of the season so far.  No cold weather gear required.  So nice.  From the powerlines to the last hydrant I had 18:46.  Here's the proof.  About a third of the way up, some punk kid rolled up next to me and was feeling chatty.  I'm not sure if I could have been faster if I wasn't talking, or if I was faster because I didn't want to get dropped by this kid who didn't even shave yet.  Didn't matter, he dropped me on the very last climb to the top.  Then told me how his goal was to make it under thirty minutes.  Just made it buddy. Grumble,grumble...
Since then it has been cold, rainy,snowy, and dismal.  Took the shop ride down to Price on Saturday for Trailfest, but spent more time BSing then riding.  Drove three hours round trip to ride for just under three hours and only cover 14 miles.  It was nice and sunny though.  So far this week has been terrible.
Not only has the weather sucked, but the gym has been closed for "Bubble Week".  This is the week they take the bubble off the pool so they close the whole thing down.  Each morning I have awakened to the sound of sheets of rain pounding on the roof so I rolled over and slept instead of doing any riding.  Yes I own a trainer, and yes I refuse to ride it in May.
This morning, I woke up again startled from the dream I had been having.  You'll remember that the last Crusher related dream I had featured Lance Armstrong telling me to ride more(and dress better).  This time I was actually at what my brain pictured as the Crusher. A few changes. For some reason it was being held in American Fork Canyon, and had become a duathlon.  I left my bike on the side of the road and began running up the Canyon.  Amazingly, I was in second place.  Cruising along.  Then somebody came up and said something about their bike being staged at the Pine Hollow Trailhead for the second stage.  I panicked because my bike was at the bottom. Then Burke Swindlehurst(the race director for the Crusher), whom I have never met outside of facebook was running next to me and I told him my bike didn't get staged.  He turned around and "paused" the race.  Amongst much grumbling, and moaning.  We lined up again, while a vehicle went back for my bike.  Once the vehicle passed us again, we resumed the run.  Which was no longer on the road, but inside my mind's version of Brer Rabbit's Briar Patch.  Breaking through branches, ducking under logs,(kind of like the trails in Price).  When I finally made it out the other side I was in an unfamiliar residential neighborhood and had dropped to DFL in the race.  Strangely, my bike was not the only one left in the staging area. Instead there was a humongous road bike with balloon tires.  Struggling to reach the pedals, I set out for the bike leg.  The remainder of the dream was me riding by myself, waiting for the broom wagon to pick me up.  I never saw the back of the pack, and the broom wagon never picked me up.  I just rode on, alone.
I may be letting this race get under my skin.
Morning Weigh-In:

• 178.6
• 21.0%
• Total Weight Loss:21.2

Road Trip, etc.

Despite my best efforts to re-motivate, it hasn't happened.  I continue to be in a "rest stage" for my diet.  While I have been riding a little more, I have pretty much abandoned the two a day routine.  I assure you this is for no good reason.  Pure, unadulterated laziness.
While I still try to make reasonable food choices, I also go on glorious binges.  Case in point, last weekend's road trip.
Last week Cobourn invited me to accompany he and Moody to his parents vacation home in Montrose CO.  He said it was about an hour outside Fruita, and coincidentally it was the same weekend as the Fruita Fat Tire Festival.
The plan was to hit a grocery store and eat at the house for the most part.  Seems like a reasonable choice for somebody who is on a diet right?  With this in mind, I didn't think anything about stopping at Grogg's in Carbonville for a nice, big, greasy burger.  We were going to be riding all weekend so certainly one little discretion wouldn't matter much.  We arrived pretty late in the evening in Montrose.  Shot the shit for a little while and headed off to bed.  We'd head to the trails and festival in the morning and grab groceries on the way back.
On our way into town, we decided to find a diner for breakfast.  Stopped in Delta, Colorado and I made my selection. 3 slices of French Toast, Bacon, Eggs, Toast.  Notice how I wisely avoided the starchy hashbrowns?  I'm a rock.
The weather quickly dampened the riding and after just about five miles or so, we decided to bag it and head into town for the festival.  Stopping at Smashburger in Grand Junction for lunch.  With the guilt still stinging from the burger the night before, I got a Chicago Dog.  And a strawberry milkshake.
The weather seemed to have affected attendance at the festival as well, so after only a short time we headed to the grocery store for supplies to last the weekend.  It wasn't my fault that Bratwurst and Chorizo were on sale.  Although I am the one that pointed it out.  And soon I was cooking my semi-famous "Team Clammy Chamois" post-race Brats.  I only had two.  And four Cadbury egg's for dessert.  They were on sale too.  Moody also contributed with his bacon-wrapped asparagus.  And Cobourn sure knows how to toss a salad.(Hurr-hurr-hurrrr)
Saturday morning brought Chorizo breakfast tacos.  Half and Half makes for extra fluffy eggs in case you were wondering.  Once we made it to the trails Moody would find out that Chorizo is not the fuel of champions. Or at least that it's not pleasant to exert yourself while burping Chorizo.  I, on the other hand am conditioned to run on garbage and had no such discomfort. I'm like the Delorian in Back To The Future.  I can synthesize energy out of common, ordinary garbage.  Of course I had three, Moody only had two.  That's probably what the problem was.  After an excellent day on the trails we made our way back to the house and cooked the pre-stuffed chicken breasts we had picked up. There wasn't a lot to them, other than enough cheese to melt out and completely cover the entire baking sheet they were cooked on.  There were only three of us, so somebody had to eat the fourth one.  You can't waste food.
Sunday we finished off the eggs and tortilla's, packed up, drove to the Kokopelli trails, rode seven miles and bee-lined it to Ray's Tavern in Green River for Ray's famous 1/2 pound bacon cheeseburger.
In hind-sight, I'm not sure all those meals were exactly "Tub o' Guts" approved.
Allright I blew it.  But the good thing is, that even though I ate like it was my last weekend on earth.  I came home and am still holding steady in the mid 170's.  To top that off, I rode up the south side of Suncrest today in 20:25, stop-sign to stop-sign.  Frankly I've never put a clock to it before.  But it felt faster than I usually do it.  With roughly 20 miles and 1600 ft of climbing...aah it's not enough to get ready for the Crusher, but it's something.
Morning Weigh-In:

• 176.4
• 19.2%
• Total Weight Loss:23.4