Alaskan Pack Fodder

The weather has been pretty much great for the past week, although the cooler temperatures hint that the road season could come to a crashing halt at any moment. I've been enjoying the fall riding, trying to squeeze in as many hours in the saddle as I can while still keeping the wife from going to DEFCON 5. It just makes the time I do have on the bike all that much more special. I haven't viewed my riding time that way this year. I've spent a considerable amount of time being disgusted at myself, because my goals and form were not aligning as I would have liked. Some people would say I obsess too much about numbers or performance, and by their standards I probably do. They would insist that I'm doing it "wrong", and that I'm failing to get the most out of the cycling experience by devoting time and resources to succeed in races that nobody cares about. I should spend more time cruising around on a 50lb Dutch city bike, stopping at coffee houses every 300...

Last week's 'cross race beat me up more than I thought, although I'm slowly improving. So much so that when this week's 'cross race rolled around, I kitted up, threw the bike on top of the car, and drove to the venue. I really wanted to race. The week had been a series of drizzly days, and Saturday was no different. As I drove to the race, I could feel the cold and wet soak into my back, and as soon as I climbed out of my car, I knew I couldn't race. It would have been another non-finish, and the toll on my body would have been felt for months. I just couldn't do that. Fortunately, I had the sense to load up my road bike too, so I took a long, wet road ride instead. It was actually a pleasant ride, without the jarring impacts I would have suffered otherwise. Instead of regretting my decision when I got back to the venue and saw all of my former competitors, I realized I had made the right one. It doesn't happen often. So, 'cross season is lik...

The Tour of Anchorage pretty much went like I expected it to. While I was hanging on with the pack and slowly moving up the GC, I was also cramping up in every race. This wasn't a lack of electrolytes or any other magic bullet fix- I simply had not done enough of that sort of duration or intensity. When I tore a sidewall 12 miles from the end of the road race, it was a mercy killing more than anything else. The final day was characterized by the struggle to get out of bed, as a steady drizzle pretty much matched my mood. I just didn't want to race. Still, I lined up and rode with the pack, until I cramped up yet again and decided that it wasn't worth it. I was still hurting a week later, so that was probably the right choice. It didn't make it any easier.   Not feeling like much of a cyclist, I went through the motions of "training", but without much enthusiasm. I had decent days and days I'd rather forget, but I knew 'cross season was right around t...