The Best Medicine

Update OK, I got it wrong. "P" is for posterior, so I've got the screw going in the wrong way. Damn my ass is flat. No wonder I can't find the problem...

Saturday night, at least once I laughed so hard it hurt. I don't even remember why. I haven't been laughing enough lately, and it felt good. Maybe if I laughed like that more often I wouldn't be in this mess. Anyway, I've been off pain meds for 48 hours. Still taking some ibuprophen sometimes, but no more percs. Getting the wound repacked is almost as painful as the original procedure. I can look forward to it daily. The first time, they told me to get doped up as a pre-emptive measure, and I went in there feeling awesome, but it turned out to be a waste of good narcotics, because the shock of the pain snapped me sober and honestly I don't think the drugs did a damn thing to make it better. I think it was overzealous packing. It was done by a surgeon, and they're not used to working on people who aren't anestheticized. This time the caregiver was a nurse, and I pleaded my case with her. She first measured the depth of the cavity, which is still over 2.5 cm, so this is going to take a while. She then did the repack, and fuck does it hurt, but still better than last time. Going back again tomorrow night, and after that I should be able to have someone from the VNA come to the house every day. Ughh.

I've been trying to find some positives in all this. Of course, more than anything I'm hoping for a positive outcome without further complications. That part is pretty scary. Some people were trying to convince me that oh, you don't have to stay off the bike for two months, don't listen to the doctor, you can come back. I told them dude, you don't understand, but I don't give two shits if I never see my bike again if it means not having to go through this again. It was that bad. I love riding but I also know that you can get back to fitness very easily once you start training again. I'm not afraid to let this heal, but most of all I want this to be the last of it. I've only been off the bike for eight days so far. The last time I took an entire week break from workouts was 21 months ago. To find a two-week break, I had to go back 45 months. So this might be a good thing. This will be a good chance for any tendonitis or other overuse issues I have pent up to do some healing. It's also a good mental recovery. I was getting pretty sick of the roads around here.

Of course, it was running season anyway. Showering and other daily hygiene is such a big project for me right now, I still haven't tried to run. After all, I'm only 72 hours out of the ER, and 48 off pain meds. In a few more days, if the wound heals a bit, I might try it. It will still be a pain in the ass (pun intended) until the packing is done and the wound is closed. With any luck I'll still be able to race Canton at the end of the month. I know this wasn't much to laugh about, but laugh whenever you get chance and enjoy every day of your good health. I feel pretty lucky to have the resources to deal with this and I'm looking forward to laughing some more with all of you. Thanks for reading.

Whoa! Lotta Puss!

Those were the surgical resident's exact words when he sunk the knife
into my perfect hairless ass and the puss geyser shot across the ER
and almost cleared the curtain.

Unfortunately, his next words were "hopefully we won't have to go back in for sphincter
surgery later." After that came the "no riding for 8 weeks."

This was hopefully the end to a long and ugly week. When we left off, the original general surgeon, who I thought was A-OK, had decided to give this a few more days to "come to a head" because it just didn't look like a run of the mill perianal abscess to him, and it still didn't on Wednesday. So Wednesday night I got a pelvic MRI at NEBH, and early Thursday morning I got the call from Doctor B that he thought this might be an intersphincteric abscess, something he didn't want to handle. By now it's growing and I'm barely mobile, but I trucked in, picked up my MRI CD and headed over to the B&W emergency room. I guess in Doctor B and my PCP's pipe dream, a colo-rectal specialist would magically appear and schedule me for surgery that afternoon. Or maybe they just didn't want my blood on their hands.

I spend about five hours waiting in the ER. I can no longer sit down. Finally I am taken out back, and of course everyone back there is pretty pro. But of course there is no colo-rectal specialist surgeon. They have a two month wait for a reason. Instead, I get examined by some doctor whose function I'm not sure of. She comes back with Dr. Z, a slightly older, confident looking dude who introduces himself as the head of the ER. For you out of towners, this is one of the bigger big-city hospitals in a city that is full of big-city hospitals. I'd guess over 50 patients are being treated in the ER at any one time, maybe twice that. They go off to view my MRI while an awesome nurse gets me a bit doped up (but not nearly enough). They come back and he says they can't really tell. It's either the mother of all perianal abscesses, or it's something worse, and I may have to go up to the OR if it is. We wait for a surgical resident, who by now is busy patching up a knife or gunshot wound or something. All I know is that about a dozen police and security guards went out to meet an ambulance, and they broadcast something about "Code Grey" and then they told me the surgeon was tied up with a trauma case.

Eventually Dr. Funk (his real name) shows up. He looks about half my age. Whatever. He says they thought about it, and I have no fever or other symptoms of an intersphincteric abscess. And yes, I got yet another "physical inspection." This was by far the most action I've had in the past two months. They decide to go ahead and treat this like as a perianal abscess and hope for the best. That's the ER way, and this is all I've really wanted all week long. So the female doctor comes back, they do some prep, taping my butt cheeks apart in a move know as the "reverse Emilio" and they go to town. I'm like dude, you going to use any novacaine or something? and he is like "or something, little sting coming up." FUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!! I'm clutching, grabbing, clenching my teeth, and writhing in pain while Ursula the Russian agent doctor pins me down. Of course, I've got no idea what is really going on back there, but he's pretending to be injecting lidocaine. About ten fucking times. Then one right in the coccyx just about made me pass out. I say pretending because I never could tell when the numbing ended and the cutting began. There was no pause in between.

What I did get was Doogie saying "there should be a little puss... WHOOOOOAAAAHHHH, LOTTA PUSS!!!! as the geyser shot across the ER and painted the curtain. Even a set of my good work clothes, carefully hung on the chair in the corner were not spared. Good thing Doogie and Ursula had put on full welding helmet-type facemasks. "You want to see what it looks like?" he says, holding a blood and puss soaked wad of gauze up at my end of the table. When they were done, the table, my johnnie, and even the floor were covered with blood and puss. Nice.

Of course, even with the alleged numbing agent and the world's skimpiest morphine drip going, the instant waterfall of relief that rolled over my beleaguered ass region was worth it. The bad news is we weren't done. The dynamic duo did some more cutting and cleaning, digging a hole over 3 cm deep and 1 cm across, because that's how far down this thing had grown inwards. Once they were satisfied, the "packing" began. Oh my fucking _ _ _ (insert who/what you worship here). I've never had a 3/8 X 2" lag screw run into my butt cheek, but I'm pretty sure that I now know what it feels like. And the best part is I get to go in and do that part again tomorrow, this time without morphine. But I can sit down now.

Not sure about the eight weeks no bike. That might be pessimistic, but this is going to require some rigorous follow up to prevent reoccurence. So looks like a bit of running and a lot of trips into Longwood for various appointments. I'll be on the lookout for JB. Thanks for reading.

Pain in the ass

Yesterday I got to experience the good part of the American health care system. You see, I've spent the past five days in what can best be described as FUCKING AGONY. By this, I mean the kind that has me stumbling around Target and Walgreen's buying a "Sitz bath" and an "inflatable ring cushion." As most of you already know, one of the occupational hazards of being a bike racer is the various bad things sitting on a bicycle seat for hours at a time can do to your anatomy. We laugh about it and harden the fuck up and all that shit, but last week I found myself with a new definition of "pain cave." And yes, that is a double entendre. Never mind that "pain cave" is the stupidest fucking expression to come out of Connecticut in a long time. I'm still trying to figure out how that state got in the union. But I digress...

So things aren't going so well for your hero. Luckily, as I started with, yesterday I spent the afternoon with medical professionals who not only knew what they were doing, but who actually gave a shit. I've spent a lot of time at a lot of hospitals, and NEBH is the best. But I'm still in fucking pain. Why? you ask. Since this is a bike blog, let's talk about recent "winners" of the tour.



At first I thought this issue was caused by something that rhymes with "Floyd." These things usually have a way of taking care of themselves, but after a few days of missed workouts and sleepless nights spent in excruciating pain on the sitz bath, I called my friendly PCP on Monday morning, and after a few minutes of voice mail hell, was told he did not have an available appointment until Friday. OK, where do I go for urgent care then, because I can't wait. "Can I take your number?" Sure. Within twenty minutes my doctor himself calls me up, and tells me I can come in at 4. When I got there the office was deserted, so I know he stayed late, and this is a Boston office we're talking about; this stuff doesn't happen with most of them.

Dr. V is a nice guy, but he's a PCP and doesn't do much heavy lifting. He looks at my problem for two seconds and figures it's a thrombose hemorrhoid. I'm not so sure, because it feels like a cyst to me, but he's the doctor, right. So we go back in the office and he makes some calls, but again, this is Boston, and most specialists have a long wait for appointments. We discuss the pain and all that, and I'm standing for effect, and he can tell I'm not here just to get the afternoon off work. He discusses the cons and risks of surgical removal, and I tell him I am game, if he can get someone, anyone, to lance (see, another Tour winner reference) this thing today, I'm there. OK, and he calls a general surgeon up at the NEBH Ambulatory Care Center, and the guy says come on down. Well, up is more like it. I make a beeline down Huntington and up the 25% grade Parker Hill Ave. Within minutes I'm johnnied, braceletted, and on the table. Everyone here is so pro.

I like surgeons. They are not drug pushers like many doctors, and they seem almost blue collar to me. No bullshit. Let's fix this. I like that, and I've had pretty good luck. I like this guy right away. Dr. B takes a look, sends me screaming with an internal exam, and says dude, that's not a thrombose hemorrhoid. I don't know what the fuck it is, but it aint' that. It's close, but it's on the outside. I tell him it feels like a cyst to me, and he says yeah, but he's never seen anything like it. The bad news is, he says it's not ready to be lanced... FUCK!!!! We discuss what we can do, but I already know we're talking more drugs and pain, and no fucking training for a few days.

So (yes, I know, this blog has way too many paragraphs that start with "so") here I sit on my inflatable ring cushion, loaded up on antibiotics and percocet, just trying to make it until tomorrow. Hopefully things will come to a head and we can "cut to the chase." Near as I can tell, this is like a bad-assed (pun intended) saddle sore that just happens to be on the opposite side of the crater from where you normally find them. I blame the double-stage at the Bob Beal, with racing in the dirty rain Saturday morning, followed by five hours of sitting around without a shower, then doing the TT. I guess we won't know for a few days. If he can't take care of it then, I might be in for a biopsy and another time tunnel video. I'll see if I can get a copy of it for the blog this time. That ought to really give the Boyz something else to forward all over California and out to Hawaii. Thanks for reading.

Don't just sit there

It's been a few months since CTodd began selling clothing on spreadshirt, with a portion of the proceeds going to the MSPCA.

So how many of you cheap fucks have gotten off your ass and actually bought one? What's the matter, too busy watching CTodd's low rent music videos, or adjusting your $500 Zero Gravity brakes? I think it's time you took the plunge and got out the plastic. In fact, buy more than one. They make great gifts. How about putting a picture of you wearing one on that pathetic blog of yours? He has long sleeve styles for 'cross season, so no excuses.

Yes, I know you really need your handmade French tubular cross tires, your 300 gallons of jet fuel trips to hear some string concerto, your Iphone, your overpriced coach who insists that you need to hire a professional to do the job right but then does his own web page instead of hiring someone who knows what the fuck they're doing, your five powertapp wheels with carbon rims, your gold-plated Norwegian boiler, and of course that new carbon fork to replace the one that you cut too short, but make room in the fucking budget for some chic Bike Racer CTodd clothing. This goes for you rump ticklers down on Long Island too. Thanks for reading.

Ups and Downs

Stocks - way the fuck up
Readership of this blog - way the fuck down
Comments - also way the fuck down
My weight - down considerably
My interest in cross - flat
My checking account balance - way, way the fuck down (thanks bicycles!)
My target price when new car shopping - down and dropping
My resting heart rate - down a little (44 yesterday)
My blood pressure - Not down far enough
Temperature outside today - up and still rising
Running mileage - up
Chances of me doing well at the Pinnacle Challenge - up a little
Ideas for decent blog entries - down (wasn't that obvious?)

Thanks for reading.

End of the Road...

...season. Well, probably anyway. There is a race in RI on Columbus Day that I've never done before, but I suppose it could happen this year. The 2007 Bob Beal Master's Weekend Omnium is now in the record books. This is another stage race scored on points, with a double stage of a road race and 3 mile TT on Saturday followed by a crit at Ninigret on Sunday. The race is unique in that it is masters only, and they use five-year age groups rather than the normal ten, so the fields are a bit small. It is also the last race in the season long MCRA series, and since the series champion for each age group gets free entry at all MCRA races next year, that counts for something. My teammate JG was in second overall going into the weekend, with a slight chance of overtaking the leader, so we were focused on that. The 45-49 group had no CCB nor Gearworks riders, but Bethel, Mystic, and Denos each had a few riders, along with a bunch of others to make a field of around 45 starters.

The road race also featured a course change this year. We would only do two laps of a 19 mile circuit that included a neat little climb, short, steep, and very bumpy. I thought it was cool. Of course, it rained pretty steady on Saturday morning and the potholed descent on a seriously crowned road was a bit treacherous, claiming at least one victim whom I saw being spatula'd into an ambulance. Our plan was to keep it together for a field sprint so that JG could gain as many places as possible over MCRA leader Eric Pearce of Bethel. We knew Pearce would be dangerous in a break, especially if he hooked up with other strongmen Todd Buckley (Arc-en-Ciel), Tony Settel (Deno's Wonder Wheel), or Bill Thompson (Celtic Builders). We'd ride tempo and keep any breaks in check, unless Pearce got in them, in which case we'd contain it ASAP.

Right off the start a move with Buckley went away. I went to the front and kept the tempo up. Duano came through for a turn, but then he retreated because of the looming climb. I took it all the way into the climb, with the break at ten seconds. The front of the field surged past me on the steep part and absorbed the break, while I pulled it together and tried to stay on the line. The climb was short and I got back up to the head of the bunch and descended on Buckley's wheel, and the course led back out onto RI Route 2, a wide, smooth state highway with the gentle grades characteristic of this seacoast area. This took us back onto the old course layout with a short stretch on US 1 before turning onto the twisty and winding Kings Factory Road that led back to the start. Moves kept going, mostly at Buckley's impetus, and I stayed up front with Tim-mee! to keep things close. No sign of Duano or JWR4 at this point, as along with much of the field, they were put in difficulty on the short climb and basically that was it for them.

Once we got on Kings Factory Road the field was down to less than 25 riders. Buckley was away alone at 15 seconds, and a group of four was chasing him. Timmy and I brought back the four chasers, and at that point Todd was just dangling a few seconds ahead. Chris Burke (Bikeworks-Hallamore Trucking) jumped across from the chase group, and he and Buckley started to extend the lead. I was taking a breather, and not too concerned because they were still in sight. Coming back over the railroad bridge at the end of Kings Factory Road, I was conferring with JG about how much rope to give the escapees when he looked down and realized he had a rear flat. Fuck!

JG knows what he is doing and he signaled the SRAM support car in advance of pulling over for the change. Nobody else in the field but me recognized his plight. We were just turning onto RI 91 and I sat up and waited, hoping that JG would get a quick change and we'd get back on. The official's car came up next to me and she said something I did not understand, but then she raced ahead. I immediately pulled out into the middle of the lane to keep the car traffic behind the race blocked in, giving John a little "caravan" to motorpace off of. Sure enough, he'd got a quick wheel change and came out around the last car just before we took the left turn onto the new section of the course. Lucky for us, the pack was sitting and doing nothing much as everyone was apparently wondering why BOB was not up front chasing the break as we'd been doing all day. JG and I were about 20 seconds back and it took us a bit over a mile of chasing to make contact. Sweet. Going through the start/finish Mike Norton informed us the break was now 25 seconds up. They were out of sight. We needed a rest after chasing back on, and then there was a little crash in the group that resulted over some confusion about which right turn we were supposed to take (pace car and the break were out of sight now). We waited for the fallen, and then took the turn but JG and I were still resting. We eventually got a second pace car for our group, and the final time up the climb was uneventful.

Back on Route 2, I was recovered and went to the front and rode some hard tempo, but this road has some long sight lines and the leaders were gone. Buckley is too strong. They stayed away and Burke took the sprint, along with the 30 omnium points. Todd of course took second, but we found out later he had family obligations and would not do the other stages; so much for him. Back in the field, Pearce tried some attacks but we came down to the finish road grouppo compacto. Settel went at the final turn, but Thompson brought him back. I was up near the front, but then it got quite slow, pushing me back a few spots. We were getting very close to the end. I'd paid attention on the way in the first time, and when the right side of the road opened up, I jumped away in the 12. I kept looking down and saw no wheels until I was just about on the line. JG was closing fast, and I thought about tapping the brakes and letting him take 3rd place points, but it was too late and I rolled over. Pearce was right on his wheel in 5th, pretty much ending any hopes of JG taking the MCRA title.

The skies cleared and the roads dried out just in time for the afternoon TT. The wind really picked up too, but for most of the one-way 3 mile TT course it was a tailwind. I rode OK, getting the 53x14 up to 115 rpms (maybe too high) at the start but then slowly fading and kind of dieing at the end. Average cadence ended up at 94 rpm and average speed 27.7 mph, a time of 6:29.8 which was 6/10ths too slow to take second in my age group. Settel killed it with a 6:06 to win. JG did a good time too, and Burke was 8th. So going into the crit on Sunday, your hero was now the race leader by a slim 1 point margin over Burke. Tom Luzio (Denos), second in the TT was 3rd overall, and JG 4th, just 5 points back. So anyone in the top 4 controlled their own destiny, with a crit win ensuring the overall victory. Not so good for a crappy field sprinter like me (Burke is very good), but looking good for Team BOB with JG as the second card to play.

The crit at Ninigret was windy as always. Lots of moves were tried, but everything got brought back. The pace was very choppy, not good for me. I was fine when it was fast and single file, which was not very often. All the accelerations were killing me. I had superb legs in the RR Saturday, but Sunday I was only so-so. This has gone on long enough, so I'll cut to the chase. With one to go I tried to attack, but they did not give me much leeway and taking the bell I looked back and the field was close so I sat up. Going into the second to last turn, JG had Burke's wheel, so I backed off, but then Duano came roaring by to setup the leadout. I got on his wheel and we roared down the mini-straight, and then out around the sweeper that leads into the final straight, where a stiff headwind waited. I'm second wheel, and I think JG was now right on me, and Burke behind him, but I'm not a well-poised sprinter and I did not look back. Duano had taken it from a long way out and was starting to fade in the wind. There was one lane open on his left, and I thought I'd waited long enough, as we were about 150 meters out. I sprinted by on the left, and put my head down with a clear shot to the line. But my top end sucks. They started coming around and I fought for every inch. JG yelled at me, because he was trying to come by on my left and I'd drifted over and made him check up. This cost us the victory because Burke had taken the right and unleashed his sprint. By the time John got through, it was too late and Burke took it by a bike length over JG. Luzio got 5th and I could only hang on for 10th. In the end Burke of course won the GC, which he richly deserved after winning two stages with only one teammate. JG took 2nd, Luzio 3rd, and me 4th. Kind of a letdown. Looking back, we should have just forgotten about my GC place and setup a pure train for John. Live and learn. At least I had good form. Not sure what I'm going to do with it now. Thanks for reading.

Guest Sermon

Gewilli says I should post more. Sorry dude, I'm taking a break. However, not to let you down, I'll pull out the oldest trick in the Gewilli book and just link over to another blog. This is a must read. I watch this same scene unfold before my eyes every day, and Strangelife's thoughts mirror mine exactly. Thanks for reading.

Gmail Ad of the Day

I'm not sure what led to me getting this one, but I suspect something from one of the Dynamic Threesome was the cause. BTW, who else knew that Freddy still maintains a solo act? Thanks for reading.

In honor of Bolder

On Sunday, the one and only BolderinBoulder completed his second Ironman Triathlon in just ten short months. Even though we know he is a bike racer trapped in a triathlete's life, we here at solobreak support his mission and quest for hours of suffering. As a show of support, on Saturday when I went out for my annual Long-Assed Ride Around the Neighboring Towns (tm), at the five hour mark I had about 92 miles in, and was about 10 miles from home. I had $4 left in my pocket and three empty bottles on my bike (I used the old toe-strap the bottle under the seat trick for the third bottle. Email Il Brucie if you don't know what a toe-strap is. I had to get one off (huh-huh) of my roof rack. And there goes parentheses inside of parentheses again. That syntax is ok in the languages I live in every day...). It was up to 90 degrees in the shade, and since it was just after high noon, there wasn't much shade. Your hero could have just topped off his bottles and rolled home (btw, this is the same convenient store where KL and I stopped on the ride back from Colt park and had to beg for a $1.49 bottle of water when I only had $1.21). However, in honor of our man Bold, I instead decided to soldier on and go for the full 182k, 112 mile Ironman bike leg distance the gilded one would be pedaling the next day. My $4 was just enough for another gallon of Monadnock Springs, plus a can of Red Bull (sorry Bold, they didn't have Rockstar). I poured it down, got my wings, and headed back in the other direction to start another seven minute, 4.4k effort up 140 from Taunton into Norton (I'd already done one the first time through. LT efforts when four or five hours out are the best). I finished that one up, bowed toward Colorado and Wisconsin (they're both out in the same direction) and took the long loop home. End of ride stats 183.4k (~114 miles) 6:18 riding time, 6:30 total time, 16 cities and towns. Thanks for reading, head over to Bolder's blog and check out his race report when it goes up.

Trying harder, or a new low?

Loyal fans may have noticed the entries get shorter and less frequent. Sorry kids, but not much to write. I don't follow pro cycling closely enough to comment on it, and haven't been excited about cyclocross since long before everyone else discovered it, and we all know we're not supposed to write about the past here. The other guys all have the equipment scene pretty much covered, and my value-oriented critiques aren't generally well received anyway. The humor, well, that doesn't always seem to get through. That leaves training.

At Stillwater I had the revelation that I sucked because I just wasn't working hard enough. Part of this was the lingering tendonitis in my right knee that has bugged me ever since I bumped up my weekly mileage by 400% for ten days back in May. With that, the the only hard stuff I've done since were efforts at Wompatuck and some weekend races. No climbing, no long intervals, no sprints, nothing. The bathroom mirrors at the ultra-plush Best Western in lovely downtown Troy, NY also revealed some serious muffin-top action that I'd somehow managed to overlook up until that point. I always had some love handles that wouldn't go away, and since my weight was almost down to where it was back in my early 30's, I figured I was OK. Mo's evaluation of my legs as skinny toothpicks made me step back and realize that even though my weight was the same, my muscle mass has gone downhill with the years and now at 172 pounds my body fat percentage is no longer in single digits, and not really even that close.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I've always felt that in September, if you aren't losing weight, you're gaining. It's just one of those things that comes with the season winding down. Winter around here is bad enough without packing on weight right from the first day the leaves start turning color. So, even though there are only two weekends of road racing left, and neither includes significant climbs, I decided the time was right to try and push the weight envelope and lose the dough in the middle. With the loss of daylight, I'm not riding so much anyway, so I don't need to fuel up as much and constantly be pouring down supplements to facilitate recovery. I got a jump start on my winter running this year too, starting two weeks ago, so almost a month earlier than last year. That should help.

I'd thought about setting a weight goal and vowing not to blog until I reached it. That might provide some added incentive, and nobody wants to read another weight loss blog anyway. If you don't see a post for a week or two, you'll know what happened. So far things are going well. I've adjusted to eating less. I've changed the foods I do eat a bit, and so far I've been fine on my workouts and not unbearably starving during the day at work.

Oh yeah, training. I was at the bbq last weekend and talked with a guy I used to train with a lot. He's an excellent rider, won dozens of masters races when he was in his 40's, and on the sleeves of his kit he wears the stars and stripes piping that only former national champions are allowed to have. He used to host a Wednesday night throwdown ride which was as hard or harder than any race. It was invitation only, no waiting, no holds barred. I was lucky enough to be able to participate once in a while for a few years, and still remember the suffering. I asked him, do you still do the Wednesday night ride? He said no, he'd got tired of it, and now in his mid-50's the kids that were showing up were just too much for him. He said, "I do most of my training down in the basement now, just watching the power meter." Ughhh. So much for enjoying the bike; it had become just training.

I can understand that after work traffic can be a real downer. I'll admit, in the winter I grow to enjoy the hassle-free days on the trainer, away from traffic and all the assholes who come with it. But I still love to ride. Last night though, I wanted to do some repeats on Big Blue. Since I work literally at the base of the hill, even though I don't get off (huh-huh) work until 5:45, it's light out until just after 7, so I'm OK. The Blue Hills used to be such a great area to train that we would even meet at the old Howard Johnson's (now another friggin' Dunkin Donuts) for after work group rides. No more. Even the reservation roads are practically gridlocked until about 6:30. In the waning light, I just can't get into riding in heavy traffic. Of course, the Big Blue access road is not open to cars, so you can ride it right up until dusk with no worries. Problem is, where to warm up? Doing repeats on cold legs just doesn't work.

I caved and setup the trainer in the parking lot. I only had 75 minutes, so even though it looked and seemed stupid, I probably got in a better workout. I did 25 minutes of spinning at specific intensities, then hopped off, hit the hill, and did three repeats. The best was a 5:17, and the cumulative for all three was 17:04, which I'm pretty happy with because usually I find making more than one good run impossible. When I was done I got back on the trainer and cooled down for 15 minutes, then drove home. I told you this was a new low. Now you know why most days I'm not even bothering to make an entry. See you all at Haverhill Sunday, hopefully. Thanks for reading.

Recurring theme

You know, I wouldn't mind, but the fucking things cost over $100 these days. It took me all of last month to realize the "squeak" my pedals were making was not coming from the pedals at all; it was the edge of the torn leather trying to slowly ruin my bibs with each pedal stroke. Bike noises suck. The aluminum frame works like an amplifier too. One more thing to like about running. That has been going pretty well, and I've got over a half dozen runs under my belt since starting back up a few weeks ago.

I didn't go to the Green Mountain Stage Race. Instead I rode with the Cronoman on Saturday, then went to the Wells Ave world's on Sunday, even getting a chance to ride with the legendary man about town CTodd. There was a small but quality field, including newly crowned national junior criterium champion Gavin Mannion, and D3 pro Pat Walsh, who I got to know later in the afternoon at a bbq hosted by an Olympic gold medalist. I don't get to do that every day. The race was aggressive and the BBQ was fabulous, so all in all a pretty good day. I won three primes totaling $25, plus a can of Shaklee protein powder, and got 4th at the end, woo-hoo. I haven't done a training summary in quite some time, so let's just say it's been a bumpy road this summer but right now I seem to have backed into some decent form. Just two more weeks of road season, so I may as well keep pushing. That's it for today, thanks for reading.