Author: kennettron

I was still sick yesterday, which I knew when I woke up, but denied it to myself.  The race began at 6pm and my plan was to attack right away and make sure to get in the winning break.  Right before we started, the officials changed the starting line and I lost my spot at the front.  As a arrived at the new start line, where there were already 100 people lined up, I cut to the front again—only one row from the front.  But the idiot in front of me didn’t sprint right away, which meant I was boxed in as thirty people passed us on the left.  I made my way back to the front over the next half lap, but a break had already gone.  I went hard and began bridging the gap with a couple other guys.  We caught up a half lap latter, but by then the peloton was on us.  As the other 100 something riders passed our group, I felt tired and weak.  I knew something was wrong, and that it was a stupid idea for me to be racing if I felt this bad.  But I kept going for about 40 minutes, arguing with myself over whether I should stop or continue.  I was near the back when I finally made up my mind, and I had the perfect place to do it.  On one of the corners, the road widened from ten feet across to forty as the small road we were on merged with a big double lane road.  This was the most difficult part of the course, because it required slowing down, sprinting, and then pushing 500 or 600 watts for half a kilometer of pot-holed road once you catch the wheel in front of you.  The pace was pushed up to 40 miles an hour during this section and once a gap formed, you were doomed.  It wasn’t the nicest thing for me to do, but these guys don’t play nice.  So I slowed down on this corner and let a gap form, which screwed everyone behind me, but helped my teammates—who at this point were all in front of me. 

I got off the bike at our feed zone to let Giora, our feed guy, know that I was done.  As I lifted up my bike to lean on the side of our van, my rear wheel fell off.  The quick release had come undone.  That would have been a nasty crash.  And it would have happened too, because there were a lot of obstacles to jump over on the course.

To get over this cold, I have to take four or five days easy.  Is it too much to ask to be healthy for at least a month at a time?

After racing, I cooled down and myself and Tony (who had been dropped on the second lap) got some burgers and fries.  We ate them in secret, pounding down the most substantial meal we’ve had in weeks as fast as possible.  We then watched the rest of the race and passed out bottles to what was left of our team. 

The race ended and we packed up, but before we could go we had to check in with the drug test guys and make sure that none of us were to be the day’s randomly checked racers.  Eliad was.  By the time we were done with that, it was dark, and a huge crowd of thousands of people had gathered at the racecourse’s downtown section.  Most of these races have festivals with carnival rides, food, and music surrounding the course.  This one had all that, plus a huge fireworks show.  The drunken crowd cheered as the explosions lit up the sky, and I have to say that it was a pretty good firework show.  Once the fireworks ended, we stepped inside and ate in an incredibly hot little Egyptian restaurant.  We ordered these chicken burrito type things that were HUGE.  I was full after eating just one.  ME.  Just ONE.  That’s a lot of food, especially for just 5 euros.  They were made with two giant tortillas, barbequed chicken, vegetables and a ton of sauce.  The key was the two tortillas wrapped together, making the thing about a foot long.  Two tortillas…it’s so simple it’s genius!!!  Every burrito I eat from this day forth shall be made with two tortillas.  As you can see, this even made quite an impression on me.  It was quite a night, even though I couldn’t race.

We got home at 1am, and unfortunately Tony and I didn’t wake up in time the next morning to say goodbye the five guys who left for Israel, Switzerland, and Spain.  They should have woken us, but if things go as planned, we’ll see them soon enough.  We’re planning on having them come race with us next spring in the States.

I have woken up with a sore throat the last few days and today I am actually feeling a bit down.  A good portion of the team here is sick with a cold right now, and I am afraid I have caught it.  But I have a feeling that it is one of those two-day colds and I will be good for the race tomorrow.  

Last night I couldn’t sleep after getting back from the race.  I haven’t been able to sleep very well after any of the races, especially when they are later in the day.  All the adrenaline must still be running through my veins, because I tend to lay restless in bed for hours.  Last night was like this, and when I woke up at 3:00 or so to drain my bladder, I couldn’t fall back asleep.  So at 4 or 5AM, I took some sleeping pills.  As a result, I have been in a fog all day.  Combined with the cold, I feel like I’ve been sleep walking ever since I got out of bed at noon.

I was laying in bed this afternoon after reading a very thick book, when I noticed that every part of my body was completely comfortable–exactly opposite to yesterday’s race.  The room was just the right temperature, with the sun shining through the window and radiating down upon my weary legs, causing the veins to stick out like those of a horse.  The open window let in a cool breeze and the sound of an airplane far off in the distance droned peacefully.  The bright green leaves in the tree next to my room rustled in the wind.  The thud of feet trudging tiredly up the wooden stair case began to dim and seemed farther away every minute, as did the murmur of voices downstairs.  I gazed up at the ceiling at the reflection of water outside in the roof’s gutter from the thunder storm last night.  The shadow image moved on the ceiling in a rapid wave-like motion similar to heat waves above hot pavement.  I could feel the soreness in my legs melt away.  My head no longer throbbed from congestion.  I let my shoulders and neck relax into the soft pillow.  The sleeping pills convinced my eyelids to let down their guard.  And just as I was about to fall into the most comfortable sleep ever to be had by humankind, the DMAN ROOSTER BEGAN TO CROW!!!  

Why is it there?  What purpose does it serve?  Do the owners really need to get up at 4:30 every morning?  And do they constantly fall asleep during the day and need the rooster to wake their narcoleptic asses up every few minutes?  They don’t even live on a farm why do they need the stupid rooster?  I demand answers.  No, screw answers I want revenge!!  I demand death!

Forget everything I’ve written about pain and suffering.  Everything before today was child’s play compared to this last kremis.  120 mean, mad riders.  Pushing, shoving, swearing in Flemish, yelling, hitting, swerving, spitting (in my face), arguing, and FAST.  The course was difficult, with a hill and a lot of wind.  I missed the winning break of seven, but was in almost every attempt to bridge.  I have never been in so many chase groups.  We’d last for a lap, get caught by the dwindling peloton, then I’d go again.  And again.  And again until I couldn’t possibly do anything but sit and pray that there wasn’t a surge.  By the end, there was a group of five a couple hundred meters up the road (plus the 7 that had over a minute on us) and then 40 or so left in the peloton.  Things were getting crazy on the last lap, I conserved as much as I could until 1K to to, when people were just riding off the front.  There was a slight lull in the speed at 1K and I just went without thinking.  I passed a number of suffering riders, but completely died 200 meters before the finish and got passed by 8 guys.  I ended up taking 24th.  My entire body hurt after the race.  It was simply insane.  

If you know anyone in Gent, Belgium, that is probably where I’ll be staying instead of Spain.  The racing in Spain might not be possible for me becaus, crap I have to go.  These belgians are getting pissed at me for stealing thier wifi

Well, I’m finally tired.  I woke up this morning to the rooster at 5AM.  I closed the window, preferring to swelter in the heat than hear that thing crow its head off anymore.  I woke up again a few hours later and had a duel with a fly that had been landing on my forehead and buzzing by my ears for the last hour.  I cursed and swung my pillow around at it without any luck.  I put a shirt over my face and laid back in bed.  I finally got up for good at 11:00, still tired.  I ate breakfast, then lunch an hour later.  My body and legs have payed for the abuse I’ve given them the last couple days.  Three races, 150 jumps (which was a very stupid idea), and a five hour ride in 95 degree heat.  I am tired.  And I am very sore, mainly from the jumps.  Today I sat around, massaged my legs, watched some movies, ate, went on a very easy ride, laid in bed, and ate some more.  Tomorrow will likely be the same routine, but with a little pre-race intensity for Sunday–which is the next race.  Here are some pictures.

Tony

Nizan

And one more thing: I would just like to give a big thanks to all the oil and car corporations that have united this world in such a wonderful way.  Here I was: afraid of what the traffic would be like in Belgium.  I was worried that the cars here might be tiny, smogless, and the drivers courtious of cyclists.  But my fear proved to be false.  The Belgians make me feel just like I do at home!  Thanks to the driver’s complete lack of concern for us two-wheeled idiots inching by like snails on the side of the street, the thick smog coming out of logging trucks, and the surprising number of SUVs (which take both lanes of the road) I have absolutly no home sickness!  It’s fantastic.  And it sure is a comforting thought that wherever I travel in the world and whatever cultural customs I encounter,  I’ll always have a place on the pavement under the wheel of a passing Ford.

July 30

Suffering.  Suffering is attacking again and again and again and again until you can barely hold onto the wheel in front of you as the pack eats you up on your latest failed attempt.  Suffering is eating too much cumin-seasoned rice for lunch, and constantly vomiting cumin-flavored bile in your mouth while sprinting in 90-degree weather.  Suffering is wheezing; acid in your lungs and snot coming out everywhere.  Suffering is not caring where you spray your snot—on your own leg, on your glasses, on your handlebars, on the rider to your right.  Suffering is seeing cross-eyed while swerving through a pack of rancid-smelling racers, inches away from becoming part of the hot, cracked pavement.  Suffering is doing 600 watts while drafting off the guy in front of you, knowing that if you let that wheel go, you’re fucked.  Because you are last in the line.  I did quite a bit of suffering today.

The course was 7 kilometers of rolling hills, 120 kilometers total.  A good-sized pack of guys showed up for the race today, which started at 6PM.  I was feeling sick to my stomach from lunch, and very sleepy and tired from being dehydrated while walking around Masskaasdkthsomething in Holland yesterday.  Lately, when I do these races I have a list of goals set for myself.  The first goal is to win, obviously.  But as the race goes on, I re-adjust my goals for how I feel.  I’m not sure if this is a good idea or a bad idea, but it’s what I’ve found myself doing for the past week.  After winning, my next goal is to place top 5.  Then it is to place top 20.  Then it is to be aggressive and finish.  Then after that it becomes “just finish.”  Then it becomes “just keep riding.”  I went through all of these phases in today’s race, and I was not satisfied with the goal I accomplished.  Because there is only one goal I will ever be satisfied with, and that is the first goal.  I placed 16^th today, but I could have done much better if I was a better tactician. 

After a prolonged attack on lap five or six, I paid dearly by almost getting dropped as the peloton passed me.  The next lap and a half was very painful and fast.  At this point, I set my goal of “just keep riding”—the lowest of the six goals.  I told myself to conserve from then on out and only attack one time per lap.  I resisted the urge for a while, and then it became unbearable.  And just so you know, attacking doesn’t necessarily mean I’m attacking by myself off the very front.  Usually there is a small group ahead at any given point in time during these races.  Usually they don’t last long, and attacking might mean bridging the gap and passing them, or just attempting to bridge.  The back of the pack is not a great place to be if there are 40 or more people in the group that you are in, but if the group is around 25 or so, the back is the easiest place. 

Anyways, I made the lead group (30 riders or more) after about 9 laps.  From then on out, I started feeling better and better, but tiring at the same time.  I guess I was feeling better compared to the other riders, which is usually what happens to me during races.  So as I began to feel stronger, I did more work.  And I’m pretty sure that all the work and attacking I did had no impact on most of the riders I was with.  Everything was chased down eventually.  If I were smart, I would have just sat at the back and let everyone else do the work, which is what a lot of guys did.  But you never know, sometimes it could work.  Sometimes a split is made and you get stuck on the bad side, pissed off that you weren’t further up in the line when things went down. 

But today all my attacks were futile, including the three times I went on the final lap.  After my third failed attempt, I sat in and decided to conserve for the last 3 kilometers.  That’s when a group of five got away.  And then a group of four.  And I forgot to mention that there was a break-away of three guys that had a minute on all of us that were still left. 

Things got very strung out in the final few K’s and I ended up taking 16^th, instead of the possible fourth that I could have taken.  But considering the strength and size of the field, and the fact that this has been the third race this week, I guess 16^th isn’t too bad.  But come this Sunday I’m going to win damn it!

Non-racing news-wise, I’m kind of pissed that my brother isn’t allowed to spend any time here at the house.  He has been sleeping in a small room three kilometers out of town, but has been spending time here, with us because there’s nothing to do in his hotel room or anywhere around it.  There is a rule that no family members or friends can be at the house, because it interferes with training.  I thought it would be fine that Galen could hang out here and ride with us since he’s the same age as a lot of the riders (plus I didn’t know about the rule).  But some of the younger guys have apparently been bitching that it’s unfair that I have my brother here when they can’t have any family members.  So the coaches were forced to enforce the child-like rule.  Galen is going to leave tomorrow morning instead of on the fourth because of it.  I have been getting along great with the riders and coaches, but I keep forgetting about the immaturity of some of the kids here.  I may act like a 17-year old a lot of the time—making mom jokes and aiming my farts at others, but there is an age gap that sometimes rears its head in inconvenient ways.  Gal and Ilan (the coaches) have a difficult job of balancing the strict rule type of coaching used for the young guys, and the informal friend/mentor type of coaching used for us quasi-adults.  Other than this recent Galen-banishing, everything else is super.  Oh, and I found out why Eliad passed me in the final few meters the other day.  I had forgotten about a bet that he, Tomer, and myself had made before Monday’s race: the two guys who got beaten by the one with the best placing would have to clean the “winner’s” bike two times each.  So Eliad is a sneaky little punk, well he’s actually not very little, but he’s still a punk.  He brought it up on the car ride back from the race today, and somehow he talked his way into me sending him a box of Snickers to Israel when I get home.  I protested that I shouldn’t have to clean his stupid bike because I pulled just about the whole freakin way on the last lap, and led him out for half a kilometer, but he wouldn’t have any of it.  I’ll clean his bike but I’m going to do a bad job.

July 31

I just finished the most epic battle in ping-pong ever.  One of the guys and I played about 12 games back to back, each one with a heavy price for the loser.  He wanted to bet on the games, so we bet pushups and jumps.  I did the jumps because I don’t want to work out my arms, and he did the pushups because he wants a bigger upper body for girls.  We started out pretty small, with 20 pushups/jumps.  I lost the first game.  Then I lost the next game.  Then we raised the wager to 25.  I lost again.  The wager was raised to 30 and I won.  By the end of our tournament, he had done 150 pushups and I had done 140 jumps.  And he still owes me 200 pushups, which he’ll do tomorrow.  

Five hour ride this afternoon.

Tony and I need a place to stay in Spain starting in a couple weeks.  I’ll be training and racing in Spain from the 19th of August to the 14th of September.  And Tony will be there for just a week.  If you know anybody who lives in Spain, or if you live in Spain, we would like to crash on your couch.  Preferably someplace where there are races, like in Valencia.

Eliad and I

The whole team

I would post more pictures but they take forever to get on here.

July 27

The race today was extremely fast.  We averaged 32 miles an hour (on a 12 corner 5K course) for the first hour.  I guess I should say “they” averaged 32, because I was off the back after 45 minutes. 

We arrived at the race moderately late because of bad traffic and getting lost in Holland.  After a 15-minute warm up, we lined up at the start.  I was sitting right behind the start line and somehow I ended up 40 people back after the lead car had us move onto a different part of the course. 

It was hot and humid today, 35 degrees C.  And I didn’t drink enough water—only half a bottle in an hour.  So I have the heat excuse and the no warm up excuse.  But neither of those were the cause of my terrible race.  The problem was my bad judgement and of course my poor cornering skills. 

I spent too much time near the front during the first three or four laps—thinking I was strong enough to bridge and attack.  A short while later, I had to retreat, out of exhaustion, to the middle (which very quickly became the back).  Unfortunately, my moment of deadness was right when the field began to split up; I was forced to cover gaps in the long line of riders (plus the gaps that would form after every corner).  The gap from me to the guy in front, while cornering, kept on increasing as time went by and my legs became more tired. 

Eventually, there were only a couple people behind me; riders were dropping out left and right.  Another gap opened up between the tattered field and the rider 3 places in front of me.  I sprinted and covered it, barely.  No one followed.  Then the same thing happened again.  I tried to cover it but I didn’t have anything left.  The end.  Within a kilometer, the peloton(s) was out of sight.

July 28

Today was much much better.  Not only did I finally finish a race, but I won some money too! 

In my warm up, I hit 1,450 watts in my first sprint, so I knew I was going to have it in my legs today.  The race was much smaller than yesterday (50 riders compared to 80 something), and the corners were less harsh.  But don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t slow.  The average speed was actually faster than yesterday.

The way these kremises work is like a fast crit.  Except instead of going for an hour, they go for 70 to 100 miles.  Today was 125 kilometers (a little under 80 miles).  And it started out fast, and slowly crept up to blistering fast.  I was able to attack all day long, and also spent a lot of time up at the front pulling back break-aways.  I felt strong at last. 

I kept finding myself up front, pulling and sprinting off the front during the final six laps.  I wanted to rest because my body was going into shock from overexertion.  I would tell myself that “this is the last time I’m going to pull until I have a decent rest.”  But one minute later I’d be back up there.  For one thing, I just like to pull.  The other thing is that if you are near the front and don’t pull through, even if you just took two or three turns in a row, the other riders will yell at you and push you forward.  I had one guy jam on his breaks in front of me to try and make me crash because I wouldn’t pull while I had a teammate up the road.  Ridiculous.  And one time when I was in a break away and a teammate of mine wouldn’t help pull, some guy HIT him in the head and knocked his glasses off his face.  Other close encounters included getting my pedal jammed in somebody’s spokes again (I’m pretty used to that by now since it’s happened at least once in every race), and I also ran into a guy while I was sprinting/about to bridge, and he was swerving to get a feed.  I rammed him with my shoulder from the side into his ribs.  We were going fast, and I have no clue how he didn’t go down.

With a lap to go there were 11 guys a minute and a half off the front.  The paceline was dead and there was no hope of catching any of them.  So it was do or die time for the last ditch effort to break away.  I saw Eliad, my teammate and another couple guys attempting to break off the front.  I bridged up with a prolonged effort and yelled at Eliad to grab my wheel as I came past him.  I took off.  He followed, and shortly afterwards another guy caught on.  I did the majority of the work; Eliad did a good amount too, but the other guy hardly pulled at all.  The peloton was right on us.  The third guy was suffering, and it showed on his face.  He took a short pull and I took over again.  Four kilometers to go.  550 watts and rising.  One kilometer before the end I screamed at him to “take one more fucking pull!!!”  He did, then Eliad and I attacked and he was dropped like the useless baggage he was.  I didn’t know how fast the peloton was closing on us or if the weak guy had managed to grab onto Eliad’s wheel, so I went as hard as I could for 900 more meters.  The finish line seemed to be an infinite distance away.  I had to sit down.  Then I stood up again for the last 200 meters.  Eliad passed me right at the end (I’m not completely sure why but it doesn’t matter).  He took 12^th and I took 13^th.  There was only one other U23 rider in front of us in the break.  13^th doesn’t sound like much of an accomplishment, but it feels better than winning back at home.  Tomorrow the whole team is going to be tourists for a change as we take a day off and visit Holland. 

In other news, my brother, Galen, just showed up here today.  He was visiting a friend in France and has been riding his bike around from city to city for the past two weeks, and now he’s up here in Belgium for his last week in Europe.  A week that will be filled with painful bike training.  Mwahahahahahhahahah!!! 

I’m sitting here with Mr. Tony Guisto, AKA Fatty McFaterson.  While the Israeli riders have been munching on green beens, potatoes, and dry pasta, Tony and I have been eating eggs (with the yolk), peanut butter, Nutella, and pasta with olive oil.  Needless to say…..so I won’t say it.  No just kidding: needless to say, the Israelis have become quite jealous and condescending of our diet.  They have been calling Tony fat, although he is anything but.  And they are constantly licking their lips as we eat our “heathen food.”

Today Tony and I went on a pre-race/hard interval ride.  It was the same workout as the last pre-race ride: cadance drills followed by “all out” for one minute, five times.  Then six sprints after a short rest.  Tony managed to beat me on one of the sprints.  I blame the bad potholes that were on my side of the road.

We got a compliment on one of the 1-minute intervals from a sports car.  We had just passed through the busy tourist village of Dubuy, a cobble stone lovers paradise, when we began our fourth interval.  Humidity reaching 100% and the glow of the hot sun piercing down through the overcast sky couldn’t hold us back from breaking a new land speed record today.  We started the interval with a medium level sprint (coming out of a minute of 120 cadance and a minute of 75 cadance).  I sat down; I could here Tony pedaling like a fool behind in my draft.  The pain commenced.  My quads began to tear themselves inside out as I pushed harder after looking down and not being content with the 600 watts I was producing.  I was already in my biggest gear, 53-12, and we were on level ground.  With 20 seconds to go, I gave Tony the signal to try to come around me.  I grimaced as I stood up and threw my bike into a knackered sprint, leaning wildly form one side of the bike to the other, willing myself forward with one thought: “Be the horse, Kennett.  Be the horse!”  Tony’s powertap is broken, and mine doesn’t read speed anymore, so I don’t know how fast we were going.  But I’m guessing that it was over 40mph.  30 seconds after we hung our heads down in exhaustion, the sports car passed us and gave us a honk and a thumbs up.  A lot of Belgians love cyclists and give you thumbs ups and encouraging honks, but there are others (just like in the US) that are complete idiots, passing on blind corners and awarding you only inches of space between you and their bumpers. 

After the workout part of the workout, we stopped for a Coke and water in Dubuy.  The price was six euros, which is about $10.  We were shocked.  Our waitress did throw in crackers for free, but still—that’s quite a bit for a can of coke and tap water.  And she didn’t seem to mind too much when I showed her that I only had five euros.   

And then I pet a giant Clydsdale pulling a carriage.  His name was Noris (maybe) and his lips were bigger than my head.  That horse was amazing.

Race tomorrow, race on Monday, and race on Wednesday.  oh yeah.  Hammer time.

Yesterday was a four-hour ride. But first the whole team rode out to a small village for ice cream Sundays. It was pretty cool seeing how big the team really is—with everyone in their kits and riding together. There are 27 of us. Here are some pictures, although I would like to post a video of us, and some other video too, WordPress requires that I spend money on upgrading my blog first. Maybe later.

As far as this week’s training has gone, it has been pretty easy. I expected it to be more intense, but the coaches here believe in lots of rest and recovery, with only a few hard efforts a week. Of course this completely goes against everything I stand for. Rest??? Recover??? Only 2 hard rides a week?? Gilad, I want you to make a workout for me next week. 25 hours. One 5-hour HARD ride on Monday after Sunday’s race. Rest day on Tuesday with two, one-hour easy spins. Wednesday: steep hill intervals in the morning and a recovery ride at night. Thursday is a sprinting/flat interval day with recovery in the evening. Friday, pre-race ride. And I think there are two races on Saturday and Sunday. Tell me what you think.

The weather has turned around at last. It is humid and sunny here, and this giant brick mansion we’re staying in is hot and full of flies, buzzing around the kitchen and bumping into our sweaty faces as we attempt to sleep at night. Finally some summer weather! Which means some good tan lines.

The guys here have switched to a different car racing game—“Need for Speed.” This one is worse than the last, because it only involves one player at a time. So the arguing is worse than before. The game is on all day. Nonstop. I’m planning on stealing the CD and hiding it somewhere. Or accidentally scratching the back of it.

Tony and I have been playing a lot of ping-pong lately, and have both made huge improvements on our games. We are now at the point where we can challenge some of the better players. What else is going on here? Oh, the Tour of Liege passed by a few days ago, right by our house. We were supposed to do it, and it would have been our biggest race of the year, but Poland took our spot. It was pretty cool to see it and the huge peloton of cars, motorcycles, journalists, and support vehicles that drove in front and back of the racers. There must have been two vehicles for every rider.

Never mind.  No pictures for today.  We’ve been to all four of out internet Wifi areas and they are all running extremely slow.  And we got kicked out of one of them by some old guy with a cane.  And a dog barked at Tony earlier and he got scared.  The pavement we’re sitting on in quite warm from the sun earlier in the day.  And it’s still warm and light out, even now at 10:00PM.