Author: kennettron

First off, I did end up getting a place to stay in Bend with Eli’s Cousin AND I got a ride to the race from Jen Aekroyd (sp?). So my 50 mile commute didn’t have to happen.

The race was hot and flat with some rollers and one climb at about mile 30 of the 70 mile race. We started out pretty fast, averaging 31mph for the first hour; I just sat in the pack. Although just ‘sitting in’ in a big race like this requires constant forward motion (not that a race wouldn’t). But for these races you have to either be passing people, or you’re going backwards in the peloton, since the outsides of the pack are always moving forward. So sitting in isn’t as easy as you’d think. Although I did think today was fairly easy. The hill wasn’t bad at all and I felt comfortable on the one other hardish section–a long false flat on chip seal where the entire peloton was single file.

I guess I should say that it was unfortunate that the race was easy for me, because it could have been hard if I had been in the break. The giant break that got over 4 minutes on the rest of us. 12 guys got up the road during one of the sprint points, then a while later 10 guys bridged to them. I wasn’t close enough to the front to even see most of this happen, since I was conserving for the first stage, which was supposed to be a pack sprint finish day. That wasn’t the plan that a bunch of teams had, though. From now on, I should go around to each team and ask what their plan is for each stage so I’m not at a disadvantage. Although my long term goal is to be so fast that I can just ride away from them all. It will make things much simpler.

I finished 30th or so in the field sprint today, and 54th out of 191 starters. I should have plenty of energy for tomorrow.

It looks like I’ll have a 30 mile warm up and 15 mile cool down tomorrow. But if you know someone who’d be willing to give me a lift before the race from Sunriver to Redmond, or Bend to Redmond, or after the race from Bend to Sunriver, I’d appreciate it. I’m staying in Sunriver so it’s possible for me to ride to Redmond for the start, but I’d rather not. And I can also ride from Bend (race finish) to Sunriver, but I don’t want to do that either. I know it’s too late, but I thought it would be worth a shot.

I’m pretty sure this is the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. Mission accomplished; I now have no further use of the internet. In fact, life can only go downhill after viewing this video.

http://sendables.jibjab.com/view/dWyDfqMthuRyfjtp

Today I’ve killed four flies. I was going to say five, since that sounds much better, but it would be untrue. The last fly is still buzzing around the cabin and I can’t find it. My weapon of choice has been a pillow, which I use to smash the flies between the window and the window shade. I learned this strategy the long way. After stalking the flies around the cabin, listening for the sound of buzzing, I realized that this method was slow and unproductive. And I also learned that most of the flies were already trapped between the windows and window shades. In fact, I don’t think I was stalking the flies at all, I was just walking back and forth from window to window when each concealed fly would buzz behind its window shade. Now, you can’t really see the flies when they’re hidden like this. But on occasion, you’ll catch a glimpse of their shadow. That’s when you have to pounce. At this point you have two options: A) slam the pillow against the window shade in the area you think the fly is located and hope that it doesn’t escape, or B) wait until you see the fly’s shadow and quickly press the pillow against the window shade. This second technique is the preferred of the two because it is less risky. The chance of the window shade opening up and allowing the fly to escape is lower, rendering the slow smash technique more effective.

Observe this writer’s killcount to date:

Note, one more fly was procured during the writing of this blog entry.

What else have I been doing? Yesterday I rode for about 5 hours, but unfortunately my ride time is being cut short over the next seven days in order to taper for Cascade next Wednesday. Other things I have been doing include but have not been limited to:

-Reading a David Sedaris book
-Watching the Tour upwards of 3 times a day
-Trying to decide the order in which I will watch the following VHS tapes here in the cabin: Hook, Forest Gump, Mrs. Doubtfire, Throw Momma from the Train, Thelma & Louise, Street Smart, Hope Floats, The Best of The Benny Hill Show, While you were Sleeping, Home Alone 2, Batman Forever, and When Harry Met Sally. I have seen five of these movies before, and judging by the covers of the others, I would rather see those five again than watch something like Hope Floats or While you were Sleeping. I spend a good amount of time standing at the movie/bookcase, trying to build up the courage to bore myself to death with one of these slumber-fests. So far I haven’t. But I’m guessing the day will come. Back to the list—
-Searching for a pair of fingernail clippers or scissors to cut my finger nails. Unsuccessful so far.
-Eating food (which is limited to Quinoa, oats, bread, eggs, or a plate of aging vegetables. I won’t include pasta in this food list because I officially hate pasta unless it has a ton of meat or cheese in it.
-Checking email and Facebook

that’s about it.

But mainly I just sit on the couch drinking water out of a Tupperware container because I don’t like drinking out of small glasses that have to be refilled after each sip.

Oh, I also have a potato that needs to be cooked. I’m planning a special breakfast one of these mornings where I’ll substitute the potato for the oats. As I’m sure you know, potatoes have a lot of potassium. And nothing spells excitemmint better than potassium!

This weekend, as you of course know, was the High Dessert Omnium. As a quick side note, there was no dessert to be had. There were chocolate chip cookies and nutela, but I don’t really count that as dessert. In fact, I was definitely disappointed with the lack of cake, pie, and jello desserts. I’m not even sure why they call it the dessert omnium.

Anyways the crit and the time trial happened yesterday and the road race today. I don’t even want to talk about the crit or time trial, but discluding information is the same as lying, and on this blog you’ll only find fair and balanced news.

The crit was stupid. I wasn’t feeling it at all, and just sat in for most of it. I attacked and bridged a couple times, but didn’t get away for more than half a minute. With 300 meters to go, I lead Chris out (from 10th place) and he took 5th and I took 8th. Yeah. Nothing to brag about. Although he WOULD have won for sure if there wasn’t a guy off the front and I had lead him out a bit further up the line because he hit some massive watts. I won’t say how big, but they were the biggest watts I’ve seen on a power tap other than the time Tony got a very questionable 1999.

Later in the day: it got hot. My legs were being tired and my brain was being lazy. I started the TT, went hard for about half a mile, started slowing down, sat up, turned around after a mile, and soft pedaled back to the start line. My first DNF of the year, and it was a 9 mile time trial. I reasoned with myself the reasons for quitting: A) I had absolutely no aero equipment B) I was not putting out any power at all C) I should just save myself for the road race today D) I don’t feel like racing. The last won was the one that did it. It was the first time all year that I didn’t feel like racing. It’s getting to be that time of year I guess. Last week was a hard one, so that may have been part of it as well. This next week of tapering should do the trick and get my head and legs back in it.

Now for the laying it down part. I came into this race as #1 in the Oregon Cup standings (a season-long competition that consists of 6 road races. The winner gets to claim her or his dominance over the rest of OBRA and before each race, all the other racers must kneel down and kiss the previous year’s winner’s toes and proclaim their inferiority to the Victor before them. If a racer does not do this, they will be shunned and stoned with water bottles full of the Victor’s urine and snot). So as I was saying, I came into this last Oregon Cup race with 206 points. A number of the guys in the top 10 weren’t present, but Paul B. was, who was a mere 2 points behind me. Basically, whoever won today (between us) was going to take the Oregon cup. So as everyone else raced for the Omnium points or for the stage victory, Paul and I were battling for the most prestigious event in cycling. The coveted Oregon Cup.

I had a full team of guys working for me today, which was very cool, but at the same time very boring. I never attacked and basically sat in the entire day except for a couple of gaps that I had to bridge across. I felt lazy and lame, but in the end it payed off. Chris and Eli covered moves, set tempo, and kept the pace high in the last minutes of the race. Kenji and Jim were there too, getting into moves and making sure I was doing alright. Thanks guys. In the end, I won the field sprint for 4th place, slaying the other whip-lashed Oregon cup contenders like limp Raggedy Ann dolls. Boo yeah.

And now for something completely un-cycling related. This one time, I trapped my brother in a cardboard refrigerator box in our garage. We were playing “prisoner” and I cut holes in the cardboard box for him to eat out of (he was trapped in there for a while). I fed him some bread, some chips, some orange slices or something. And then I told him I was going to pour some Coke in for him. He should have known that we didn’t have any Coke, because as kids we almost never had any in the house. But he didn’t question me. His moral was broke. His fear of authority had been heavily instilled by his endless days spent cowering from the prison guard’s night stick. He opened his mouth at the hole in the box and I poured in a good mouthful of pickle juice. He instantly began vomiting and crying as he rolled around in the box, trying to get out. I let out an evil laugh and ran out of the garage, leaving him in the puke-soaked box for another five or ten minutes. He was still in tears when I let him out. Yes I felt bad. Yes, it was worth it. No, to this day my brother does NOT like pickles.

The ride up Highway 58 yesterday wasn’t bad at all. I had a nice tailwind for most of it, and the shoulder was just big enough to put me out of the direct path of most semis. I ran out of water after filling up at Oakridge, but since it wasn’t very hot out, I didn’t mind. So by the time I got to my turn off point on road NFD 5897, I decided to just keep on going and hope there was a water faucet at a campsite or just fill up at a river or lake. 11 miles farther up the road, over 6,000 feet, I still hadn’t filled up water and the road turned right, up a steep 4×4 road. My speed went down to about 4 miles an hour as my tires skidded out on the sand/dirt road. A sign said “Lake something 8 miles” (I can’t remember the name). Lakes are usually down hill, so I assumed the dirt road eventually turned down hill. And it did. But the road got worse, full of boulders and ruts, and much steeper. If the road didn’t end up where I wanted (a paved road), or if it dead ended, I’d have to push my bike back up the 8 miles because there’s no way my 23mm tires had enough traction to get me back up.

No crashing and amazingly no flat tires, and after an hour I was down the dirt road and back into the paved world. I got some directions from some guy in a truck, then some water from some fishermen. A little while later I filled up at a campsite store, feeling good. A while later, I was faced with another 11 miles of gravel where road construction had torn up the road surface. I got a ride in a pickup truck for 3 miles of it from one of the road workers, then cruised the rest of it, imagining racing Paris roubaix as I always do when I ride on gravel. A few more miles afterwards and a couple sprints and I was in Sunriver, another 120 mile day. Not that hard actually. Although the next day I was tired.

One day I was riding this week I got dive bombed by an angry sparrow.  I heard some frantic chirping behind me and looked over my shoulder to see a bird about a meter above my back, swooping and diving at me, attempting to get its courage up enough to come in for a kamikaze attack.  The villain pooped at me, shooting its crap rockets towards my rear wheel in an effort to send me sliding to my grave on the pavement.  With no weapons left in my arsenal save some illegal and controversial nerve gas, I decided the best option was to kick it into a higher gear and say goodbye to my angry chaser.

A few hours later I stopped at a country store and refilled my water and bought a bottle of iced tea.  It was hot out, probably 100 f on the road.  I downed the iced tea in one gulp (exaggeration, it actually took more) and started the last leg up to the top of the forest service road out east of Cottage Grove.  I like that route because the last 10 miles or so are on a single lane road that follows Bryce Creek when it’s still a tiny creek.  No snow or fallen trees got in my way this time, and I was free to imagine myself flying up a winding ascent in the Tour.

Out of water and at the top of the climb at 4,500 ft, I turned around and descended for 25 miles back down to the country store to eat a coconut popsicle, a large bottle of Squirt, a push pop sherbet ice cream thing, and a snickers bar.  I’d done about 80 miles at this point and also eaten 3 cliff bars and was down to just one packet of sports beans for the 40 miles back to Eugene.  Now one might think that since I just ate so much food, I’d easily be able to ride another 40 miles with just a packet of sports beans.  But at this point in the ride I’d already burned over 4,000 calories and only eaten roughly 1,500.  So I planned on making one more quick stop at a certain bell once I got to Cottage Grove 20 miles away, a taco bell if you will, where I got a burrito that had just the right amount of fake cheese sauce to bean ratio.  After eating the half pounder I felt better immediately, and realized that it was probably because of the salt.  I’d drank about 10 bottles of water but hadn’t had any electrolytes other than in the cliff bars and ice cream.  The next chance I got, I stopped at a horse field and helped myself to the salt lick.

I got back to Eugene and had a great 4th of july barbecue with plenty of salty food.

Yesterday, I did the Firecracker crit.  There were 15 of us signed up and a huge headwind kept it together for the first quarter of the race.  I missed the stupid breakaway though, and ended up just trying to tire myself out.  As Matt pointed out before the race started while we were getting lined up, it would have been a great group for going on a morning CSC ride with.  But instead we went around the round crit course 40 times for twenty bucks.  It’s not that I don’t like crits, it’s just that I like road racing so much more and don’t understand why all the good road races are over by May.  Por que!!!?? 

Earlier this week I went on some other rides and did some other things that don’t need much explaining.  They mainly involved riding my bike hard and eating food.  Dave Roth and I destroyed the Thursday Nighter.  The Tuesday night crit was a good workout but I missed the break; it was fun putting the pack in the gutter with McKenzie, though.  I gut stung by a wasp on my lip and it swelled up.  Oh, and I did go to the river one day in-between rides.  I ate a trough-full’s worth of  pho soup.  And I almost forgot to mention that on the same section of road that I got dive bombed on the way out, I got dive bombed on the way back home.  No poop this time though.  

Tomorrow I’m riding to Sunriver to start my acclimation for Cascade and Nationals.

Calories burned while riding this week: 19,000
+
BMR calories needed this week (2,500 a day): 17,500
=
Calories per day: 5,200

It’s been a while since I won last.   But the day finally came once again, and when I (sort of but not really) least expected it.  Because when I would least expect it would be on a day where I didn’t even have a bike race.  If I won then it would definitely be when I least expected it.  So it’s not accurate for me to say that I won when I least expected it yesterday.  I think that phrase (when I least expected it) is over-used.  Much like the phrase, “hey let’s go pick some ripe peaches from that peach tree.”  Or, “those cows look like cows.”  Or, “How’s about we eat some clams and jam.”  Or, “Trees seldom seem to be green after eating pickles and watching the news at 8:00 on a saturday.”  Or, “I just shat myself and now I can feel corn in my pants.”  Or, “Lamps eat pine cones all the time, and I mean ALL the time, if you know what I mean.”

My big top secret plan of the day, that I only a select few about, was to ride to the race via a long route that would be about 4 hours.  I had my plan all planned out too.  With a long list of directions taped to my handlebars.  There were 5 pages of directions, and over 50 turns that I had to make in order to make my 70 mile route from Sherwood to Swan Island.  But I must have slept through my alarm or something, and I woke up late.  Turned out I only had time for a ride in the morning, no time to do my ride.  

I got in about 2.5 hours before the race and drove up to Portland with my mom, brother, and his friend from Germany, who spoke a language that I was unfamiliar with and therefore felt threatened by.  Rightfully so I’d say.  I mean, if you’re gonna come here to the US and of A and take our jobs and put your kids through the public school systems and crowd our hospitals and mow our lawns, you’d better be able to speak the language of the god fearing white folks that built this nation into what it is!  Now I may be old fashioned but that’s just the way Fox News tells me to think, and by golly there aint nothin on this god damned fearing planet, that god made for us, that doesn’t give me a bigger boner than tellin other people what to do and saying screw you to the rest of those heathen countries in Europe.  Comin here and stealin our jobs and…stealin our…corn.  And stuff.  IT’S OUR DAMN CORN YA DAMN GERMANS!!  We saved your ass in dubya’ dubya’ two for god fearin sake!

I was a bit tired and sleepy as we lined up for the race, so I decided the best thing to do would be to attack right away.  With a little under a half a lap down, I went off the front and had some piece and quiet to myself for about five laps before getting caught.  But it wasn’t long before I got off the front again with a solid group of four: Nick Skinzzzik, Evan Elkan, myself Peterson, and a TAI guy (sorry I forgot who it was).  We built up an ok gap, but were soon swallowed down by HP Chiro, the strongest team in the race without a guy in the break. 

Sitting in the field was easy and boring, so I bridged up a few laps after we were caught to a group that had just formed up the road.  This time it was me, Paul Bourcier, Evan Elkan, Patrick Marzullo, and Christain Tresser.  Most of the major teams were now represented and built up 20 seconds pretty fast and kept it there for the rest of the race.  

With a couple laps to go, Evan attacked a few times but it was all covered.  I guess I attacked once, although I don’t remember doing it, and eventually we all just sat behind Patrick as he kept us going into the last lap.

I made  a super crafty move, pretending to attack but not really, and everyone was so fooled they went cross eyed.  Just joshing ya, I don’t think anyone fell for it, because when I pulled off to the side after my fake sprint attempt, no one had even reacted.  In fact, I think they were so unimpressed that they didn’t even realize that I now actually had a 15 foot gap.  Paul had let it form and yelled at me, “GO! THAT WAS  A GIFT!!”

 “Oh,” I thought.  “OK.”  And I took off with 3/4 of a lap to go to the finish.  I looked back and saw Christian leading the chase, but it was too late.  I already had a big gap on them.  I looked back a little while later and the only guy I could see was Evan, closing the gap at an alarming speed.  I got to the final corner and stood up to sprint the last 200m.  He pulled even with me and we stayed like that to the line, with me taking it by just a few inches.

I rode into downtown with my teammate Andy for some Qdoba, then back to the course.  Then I rode back home to Sherwood to complete a hot, 107 mile day.  Boo yeah.  

Today, Sunday, I was going to race but thought better of it and took a rest day, since this is a rest week.

If a pig carbo loaded right before it was slaughtered, would the meat be extra sweet from all the glycogen?  I would bet so.  And I want to taste that ham if it’s true.  That would be some good eatin there I tell you what.  I actually have one more question too.  If I drank a bunch of blood would that boost my hematocrit?  I’m guessing yes, of course it would.  Now for the grand finale:  If a pig carbo loaded right before he was slaughtered, and I drank his blood, would I get the double benefit of boosting my own glycogen levels AND boosting my red blood cells?  We’ll see.

I attacked right as the neutral role out ended, just to see if the field really felt like racing. It was my one hope of winning this weekend, a solo break away let go by a complacent peleton. They weren’t complacent though, and I was caught quickly. I attacked again a little while later but the other guys that came with didn’t feel like doing much work and I was reeled in once more. The next move stuck. I wasn’t in it, but Chris was. Along with a couple other guys. I spent the next 15 to 20 miles covering attacks. But f I had known how hard the first stage of Elkhorn was going going to be, I would have just sat in.

An hour into the race, or maybe a little more, it began sprinkling. I put my arm warmers on. Then it began raining. We were going down hill at this point. Then the temperature dropped and it began pouring. Soon, the road became one giant puddle, inches deep across both lanes. Our brakes lost their power while our bodies lost theirs.

The rain stopped or at least let up, I can’t remember, when we reached the first climb. It wasn’t real steep, but it hurt. I covered an attack by a Land Rover guy, then immediately regretted it. I stayed in the front group without too much difficulty, although the pain level was definitely rising with every pedal stroke. At one point I stood up to climb on the pedals, but sat right back down as my arms almost gave out from being cold and water logged. I really wished I hadn’t ripped off my garbage bag wind vest at the start line, thinking that it was going to be nice and sunny today.

I decided to eat my cliff bar on the decent, and while trying to get it out of my pocket and then open it, I found myself a little ways off the back with some stragglers who had just barely made it over the hill. I didn’t think much of it, and continued eating/trying to eat the bar. Finally I had the entire thing in my mouth, balled up in my numb gums, slobbering brown sticky spit everywhere. And that’s right when I realized that the pack was completely strung out in a stiff cross wind and I wasn’t in it anymore. There were two or three small groups behind the pack, and I was in one of them. The chase began and I ended up having to spit out the cliff ball so I could breath.

My group of 5 guys eventually caught up by the first of the extremely painful rollers. They were quickly dropped for good once the climbing began, and I suffered on the back of the pack just barely there, wishing I hadn’t been so far off the back on the decent. I held on as many others dropped off. I finally got separated as the guy in front of me slowed down over the top of one of the hills. His tire was flat. I went around him, but never made it back onto the lead group, or what was left of it. Me and another guy just dangled 40 meters behind the pack for, I think, maybe 6 to 7 hours. I’m not sure.

We picked up some guys dropping off the pack and soon had our own little group to ride in with, going as fast as we could to make up time. I finished 1:07 behind the leader that day, and I was done. 26th place out of 90. I was penalized 20 seconds for crossing the yellow line twice–both times were during instances when the entire group I was with swerved a foot over the yellow line because of the crosswind. And I was the only one singled out of the 90 rider field for time penalties. Thanks.

My time trial was lame. I couldn’t get my breathing or heart rate up very high and I kept looking down at my power tap to see that I was riding below 300 watts at times. Very very weak. I finished 47th, then went to Safeway with Will and bought a feast of food. You won’t even believe how much food we got for the price we paid:

1 really big sub sandwich. The kind that are usually 8 dollars but today they were 5 dollars.
1 bunch of bananas
1 cup of chicken and bean soup that was 2 dollars off
1/2 gallon of chocolate milk
1 bagel

Now you might think that we paid $46 dollars for all that right? That would be a good deal. But you’d be sorry. Because we didn’t pay $46. We didn’t pay $36 and we certainly didn’t pay $26.
“Wait wait wait, Kennett,” you say. “You bought all that and didn’t even pay $26?? I’m having a hard time believing you!”
Well, friend. It’s all true. And you know what the amazing thing is? We only paid a mere $10.67 for all that. Plus we had a bunch of samples for free.
“HOW??” you ask. “How did you get such a great deal?”
I’d like to say it was our charming good looks and rugged demeanors, but Will was there. Standing next to me. So I’d have to go with amazing intelligence…no no, I keep forgetting about Will. Hmmmm. Maybe they felt sorry for me for having such a crazy-looking and foul smelling friend. Yeah, that must have been what it was.

We took our bounty to Derek’s tent at the high school, where the race’s headquarters were, and took a nap before the crit at 6:30.

The crit was super easy. When I was just sitting in, I could nose breath for almost all of it. I found out the secret to crit riding last week. It’s very simple: don’t break at all in the corners. I wish someone would have told me that years ago.

I almost won the first prime, after pulling some lazy guy around for a full lap and then having him barely outsprint me for the $20. Obviously he wasn’t interested in a break away because he was weak and stupid, so I sat up and we were caught. I missed the next prime I went for also, by just a foot or so. I cursed loudly at the line. I kept on going and the two guys that I had sprinted against got on my wheel. I pulled for half a lap, then elbowed for them to come around and take their pull, since we had a good gap on the field. But they were lazy and stupid and didn’t want to be off the front because they feared the big bad Mr. LAB (lactic acid, bitch!). We were caught.

I finally won a prime with a solo move at half a lap to go. I had a big gap by the time I crossed the line, and there were only four or five laps to go. I went hard for another half lap, looked back to see the pack at the same distance, then thought better of it and sat up, knowing that I’d be caught and would lose my position near the front.

I held a great spot in the top 8 up until the last lap, when I got swarmed from both sides and immediately found myself sitting 25 guys back. There wasn’t much I could do at this point, and ended up sprinting for 16th place. I know I could have won if I had just kept my position to the last corner, I passed about ten guys in the last 250 meters. I was pretty mad during my first cool down lap.

Will and I got a ride back to Tony’s cabin (where we had been staying each night) and made some burritos. I was feeling tired, but not super tired. I had mainly been feeling sore and lackluster in my legs, not mentally tired or unmotivated. So I planned on going for the long bomb the next day. Breakaway from mile 1 on the 100 mile Mt. Dooley stage. There was no way my legs were taking me to a top 3 spot in a group climb up that last 7 mile ascent, but a lucky breakaway had at least a tiny chance.

We woke up at 6 something to the sound of pounding rain. It didn’t let up for the next half hour, while I tried to decide whether I was going to race or not. The weather report said it was going to be raining hard for the next three hours, let up for an hour, then continue raining until the late afternoon. The only warm clothes I had brought were arm warmers and leg warmers, and spending 100 miles in that cold rain sounded like a great way for me to get sick, especially since it was my third week of stage racing in a row. I went back to sleep after eating breakfast. The race directors ended up postponing and then shortening the stage to 18 miles when half the field didn’t show up and the rain continued beating down. I would have done that, though. 18 miles in the rain wouldn’t have been too bad, but I don’t care too much anyways. It’s time for me to take a rest week.