It’s time to head to Nepal for The Yak Attack, one of the “5 toughest races on earth.” I don’t feel in top form, though not too bad for a guy who hasn’t taken a day off of work in 16 months, and hope I' ready for
Experience Nepal up close and dirty, no luxuries!
Just you, your bike and 400km of some of the most brutal terrain on earth.
From the hot and dusty lowland foothills,
To the snow covered, oxygen thin, Thorong La pass (5416m)
The race, however, hasn’t been on my mind at all. I figure it’ll reset my de facto adventure mode, making it the easy part. The crux of this endeavor has been how to get away from the grind for two consecutive 2-week periods without being connected to the world. We’re about to find out.
The Yak Attack looks like an amazing adventure and I’m getting more and more psyched as I read quotes like these:
"Its not a race of man versus man, its man versus nature and nature has the upper hand" - Phil Stasiw (UK) 2007.
"This is totally raw mountain bike racing" - Steve Rysedale (UK) 2010.
"This is the toughest race I have done, its the sh**s, I love it !!!" - Henri Lesewitz (Germany) 2012.
Updated race reports will be spotty because most of the race lacks connection.
Along with the race I’m going to chronicle the entire trip, beginning with a short visit with my brother in India and followed by a trek up the Khumbu Valley. These, along with some race training, a bike review, and perhaps some “normal” blogs will fill the time between now and the race reports. They’ll often by launched while I’m incommunicado so if your comments don’t post it’s because they’re waiting for me to sift through the spam.
Happy 2013! Exciting new year ahead. Let's make it a good one. We can start by hoping AG2R wins all their races. For me, altitude training starts today. Now time for some exercise...
Cool vid of hittin' the trails, roads, and bike parks around SLC and Park City in winter, from local company Boo bikes, a bamboo bike maker. Local is a world prospective, as Boo is located in Colorado, but they're main riding, Tyler Wren, hails from Utah.
This is a lot like what my winter's looking like. Some of the Yak attack's going to look like this and I've got to be used to it.
Here's a short but inspiring vid about the guy who set the Tour Divide record. This has to be one of the most grueling physical challenges out there. It also seems a bit boring unless you're wired like this guy. Given it runs more or less through my backyard, one of these years I might have to try and get enough time off work to give 'er a shot. For more about the race, you can now stream Ride the Divide (a documentary about the TD) on Netflix:
Ride the Divide
Since October’s the best month of playing outside I’ll end it with one more classic ride: The White Rim in a day. I did this a few weeks back with my friend Jeff (partner during last year’s 25-hr Frog Hollow race) and we caught perfect conditions for this stunning tour of the Canyonlands.
The White Rim Trail is one of the most scenic roads in the world. Except for a few miles on the mesa you’re never not looking at postcard view. Unfortunately my phone broke en route, which is probably good for this post as I’ll use other, much better, photos, which also will provide reference links for anyone interested in more info on this classic adventure.
Doing it in a day is not requisite and, in fact, while a fairly-common tick for ultra geeks, is probably not the best way to do it. If I were going to pay a company to SAG for a long ride this might be the one. As Jeff said, “I can’t imagine there’s a better mountain bike tour in the world”. There are many Moab outfits happy to do this, like this one.
We, both ultra geeks, opted to skip the booze cruise option. If you found your way here it’s your lucky day as I’m going to provide some key beta. Jeff is a Moab local, spends an inordinate time exploring, and has thus learned many tricks for efficiency in the desert.
Look at the above topo. Now move the start to the bottom of the big finishing climb. We parked about a mile down this road, meaning that we had most of our climbing done before breakfast. We also stashed most of our water at the park entrance so we were able to climb without a ton of weight. Since it’s the least scenic part of the ride we also did it in the dark so that sunrise hit just as we were entering the good stuff. This piece of beta both gave us a nice warm-up during the chilly morning but also allowed us to finish on the flats along the river, instead of with a brutal climb. It was aesthetically perfect.
The riding on the White Rim, while technically easy, is challenging over the course of a day. Miles of slickrock beat you down and, by the end, my hands hurt more than anything else. At one point I made a comment on training for Paris-Roubaix and we spent a few miles mulling over the possibility of doing it on a road bike before dismissing it as nothing more than self-flagellation. You can ride the White Rim on anything but the more suspension you have the happier you’ll probably be.
For us the ride was more style. Doing the climb in the dark also allowed us more time for sightseeing. We spent close to 2.5 hours poking around and still finished well before dark. We even got lucky and found this.
Jeff is the most interesting man in the desert, surely. He knows everything about the canyonlands and its history. Not only can he suffer but he’s also an excellent climber and has spent the last few decades on the trail of the Anasazi and Fremont. He’s is constantly filling in the authorities on locations of new archeological sites, which means I had a first rate historical tour of the White Rim and everything you can see from it. This, I suppose, is another reason why you might want to do this one guided, even if you opt to do it in a day.
So much on the agenda that I almost forgot about a Psyche for this week. For shame. Well, here's a good one that takes no intro and is a nice alternative to my last post. It shows the beauty of bike riding, although if you try this at home you might end up needing a blood transfusion for a different reason than US Postal. I certainly won't be trying this on my Bosberg, or any bike for that matter. Mighty fun to watch though.
80 miles, 3 iconic climbs, epic scenery, and not a single stop light; it just can’t get much better.
I’ve ridden my bike all over the world and this is one of the better rides I've done. If you have a free day in SLC, some fitness (8’000-ish feet of climbing), and prefer roads over trails, this is the one. The only caveat is that you have to be willing to get your precious road bike dirty a couple of times. Otherwise, it’s pure Nirvana.
The ride begins at Blue Star Coffee in Canyon Rim (in SLC at 23rd and the 80). They have fresh juice, roast their own beans, and make fantastic bagel sandwiches. It’s also the home of Wasatch Bike Support so not only can you fuel up you can pick up supplies and maybe squeeze in a last-minute tune (don't tell Tyson or Chris I said they'd have time to tune you bike on the spot but they probably will if it's nothing major). They carry Hammer, Honey Stinger, and assorted other foods for your ride.
Begin heading east on the frontage road. Turn left on a small path by the baseball field to access the bike path through Parley’s Historic Nature Park. Ride through the park, over the 215, and turn left (north) on the bike path junction.
The bike path delivers you onto Foothill Blvd for your only foray into traffic, which lasts less than a minute. At the light (you see a few lights but always have a right turn), turn right and immediately left, following bike path signs. Ride north through a neighborhood, then climb up through a golf course. Make a left at the top of the hill and descend to Sunnyside Dr (Emigration Canyon Rd).
Climb Emigration Canyon. It’s a fairly easy 7-mile (approx. 1,500’) climb leading to a nice summit, aka Little Mountain. Emigration usually has some traffic but it has a great bike lane, is usually busy with cyclists, and almost always very pleasant.
Descend off the back to East Canyon. Turn left. Climb Big Mountain. This one’s a bit stiffer, feels more isolated, and offers an outstanding summit.
Drop off the back of Big. Now the ride feels remote as you’re looking at open space as far as you can see. If it all looks familiar, it's because the Tour of Utah rides it (in reverse) most years.
at the summit of big. weather can be a little spotty at times.
Near the bottom of the descent look for a right turn (might be a sign to Jeremy Ranch, which comes and goes) on a dirt road and get ready to Paris-Roubaix out for a few miles. Training tires/wheels (with plenty of air to avoid pinch flats) recommended.
When the road becomes tarmac again you’re in Jeremy Ranch. At the gas station, turn left on the frontage road (more scenic than it sounds). Take this past the next junction (hwy 224 and I-80) for another half a mile and turn right, go under the 80, and immediately left onto Highland Dr. Hop onto the bike path and follow it along Highland to Silver Creek Rd. Turn left and cross the 40, then right onto the frontage road (again, much nicer than it sounds).
If you need fuel there’s a gas station here with a pretty decent restaurant inside.
Take the frontage road to the next junction. Turn left (away from Park City) and in about a quarter mile turn right onto the bike path. Follow this into Park City.
When you hit White Pine Touring (bike shop if you need anything) you have a choice to make. It’s faster to jump on the road here but I prefer to stay on the bike path and cruise up through Old Town. Stay alert for a small sign saying “Deer Valley” which takes you through a tunnel and off of the bike path at the round-a-bout (there's only one), where you take Deer Valley Dr (not Marcac) uphill. On the streets you'd go left at White Pine. Left at the light (ugh, a light you might have to wait for!), and left at the roundabout.
Just before the ski area turn right onto Royal Street. Take this iconic climb (for locals anyway--it's a perfect climb: winding, scenic, great tarmac, not too steep) to just before its end (at Silver Lake) and take the short descent down Guardsman Connector to Marsac and keep climbing.
Your first really steep pitch just before Empire Lodge, a taste of things to come. If you need water, supplies, or a bathroom you’ll want to stop here. Empire Lodge is very bike friendly all summer but closes in Sept. Fuel up as, even though you’ve only got a few hard miles left, you’re about to earn your ride.
You can bail from here, ride down the main route through Park City, Jeremy Ranch, Summit Park (a short climb), descend Parley’s Canyon (on I-80), and get back to SLC with hardly any energy expenditure. But if you’ve come this far you might as well dig a little and earn your beer.
Leaving Empire the ride is different. So far, even though there's been a lot of climbing (probably 50 miles and 6,000'), it's been pretty civil. The road now, for the first time all day, is seriously steep. At the top of Deer Valley (only a mile or so), you have a brief descent, and then start heading up Guardsman’s Pass road. Get ready to rumble.
view to the east
NOTE: the next paragraph is now in the name of lore, this section has been paved. It's not nice pavement, and it's still steep, but much easier to ride than it once was. Some might even say it improves things. Not me.
The road quickly turns to dirt. Steep dirt. Steep, slightly gravelly dirt. And not all that compact (varies with the season). Some sections are smooth. Others not. It will force you to pick lines and, for some reason, there always seems to be more traffic than you want, which is none, because it both kicks up dust and reduces your ability to choose the best line. It's only a couple of miles but it takes fitness, technique, and mainly the desire to do it. But hang in there because you’re about to be rewarded with a 20-mile, 5,000' descent--well worth a bit o’ toiling about.
view to the west
Enjoy the descent of Big Cottonwood canyon. Yee-haw. If you're parched, cold, or hungry you pass Silver Fork Lodge a few miles off the top. They have both local coffee and beer, a lots of assorted diner-style food.
At the bottom of Big, turn right at the light and then make another right at the next light at Wasatch Blvd. Follow Wasatch a couple of miles and turn right just before an obviously up hill on Fortuna Dr. You can finish your ride on Wasatch but we’re avoiding stop lights in the name of aesthetics so...
Climb Fortuna (steep for half a mile) and then descend it to Jupiter. Go left and take the first right and then the first left (both come quickly). You should be on Hale St that will hit Parkview shortly. Go left and down to the Mill Creek junction (4 way stop). Go straight through the stop and turn right on Wasatch. Turn right at the light, which winds around left. At the end of Wasatch Blvd is the bike path you started on. Take this down to the right fork, go back across the freeway (215) and through Parley’s to finish at Blue Star. Then hope George has got his beer license sorted out.
I really wanted to quit the Butte 100. I wanted to quit a mile 10. I wanted to quit at mile 50. And I really wanted to quit at mile 80. I wanted to quit so bad I even tried to before I left home. But I didn’t. And I’m glad.
“Why are you so worried about this race?” asked Romney. “You never worry about this kind of stuff.”
I was worried because it was going to hurt. Bad. I wasn’t sure how bad it would be, exactly, because I’d never been to the area. But as they were throwing around tag lines like “hardest 100 mile race in the US” I figured it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk no matter how fit I was. But I wasn’t fit. Not for endurance racing at least, since I’d only had time to eek out a couple of long rides this year.
“Die or do something. You’re not dead yet, so you might as well do something.”
This campy line, uttered by Dr. Conrad of the Jackie Robinson Sports Institute in the film American Flyers, became my mantra for the day. Each time I wanted to quit I’d do a body assessment. I wasn’t injured. The stuff that hurt was all GOOD pain. And as long as that was the case I would have no choice. I wasn’t dead, yet, so I’d might as well do something.
life at the jackie robinson sports institute
My friend Mike says he likes to start his seasons with “an eye opener. Something so ridiculously hard that you know you’re going to suffer like mad that will set the tone for anything else you do.” Butte was my eye opener. I had to get through it to transform into the proper mindset for Nepal. Here’s a little recap.
Blast It!!!
It began the night before at a suspiciously bad Mexican restaurant. Montana is, as Josh says, “not exactly known for its Mexican food” and this experience would echo that in spades. Josh sent a pic to the gang that came back with replies like “Blast It!!!”, a line from a friend’s surf film.
mining the waves for stoke
This was prophetic enough as I spent a good deal of the race alone in the forest. Curious aside, we saw Tinker Juarez (probably the most decorated distance mtn biker in history) at the restaurant and wondered if he chose it on purpose to make him uncomfortable so he’d go faster. Could be, since he obliterated his own course record.
Part I – A sadistic sightseeing tour of Montana
As it wasn’t a race for me I began comfortably in the back of the pack, only going fast enough so that I was in last so there would be people behind me in case I got lost. This turned out not to be a problem as the course was very well marked. Josh said the first section—a series of steep sandy fire roads to spread the field—was awful and, well, I guess it was. But it sure was pretty.
I’m very geographically oriented, especially when I’m outside, and almost always know where I am. In this race I hadn’t a clue and was enjoying the weird sensation of having never been in the area or even looked at a map. Since I wasn’t really racing, the experience was like a sadistic sightseeing tour of Montana.
I rode a lot with Josh, who was having a worse day than me. Not sure if it was the Blast It! effect or something else but he wasn’t regulating very well as the temps got high, which had me a worried about him when I rode away on the final long climb of the first 50.
Part II – No threat to the growler.
I got the halfway point at 5:30. I’d heard the second half had “more single track” and was slower and harder but this seemed way ahead of my planned survival pace. I considered re-stocking at my van but didn’t because I was worried that the lure of beer and a bed might be too much. I also heard the Tinker was already hours ahead and rolled through this point without stopping, asking only for a banana, which seemed so crazily IN-sane and had to see the entire course. So I headed onto the second half chatting with a guy about how slow we could ride and still make the cutoff times.
tinker after losing his first butt 100. he has lowered his time nearly 3 hours in two years since. wild.
The next few aid stations went great. I didn’t even want to quit. I was tired but the only thing that really hurt was my butt, not surprising given I’d already eclipsed my longest ride of the year. As I was chilling in the shade at talking about cutoff times a guy told me I was in 55th, elaborating on that as “no threat to the growler.” Apparently a growler of beer was awarded to the last place finisher of the race, which sounded so good I started to ride even slower.
Part III - Sandbagged!
Anything advertising itself as “the toughest…” has to include something understated that is truly hard. In the Butte 100 it’s the section between check points 7 and 8 (or was it 8 and 9?) Anyway, it looks the same as any other section in the race bible. In reality it’s really friggin’ hard.
The bible warns you of the 4-mile (sometimes un-rideable—though we think Tinker rode it) climb but the rest of the section looks pretty benign, so I did a double take when the course official at the top of the climb told me “two more major climbs” before the aid station.” I was not alone. I ran out of water at least an hour before I got there. It was grim but I was passing people looking a lot worse than me. I think it was the longest 10 miles of my life.
The Highlands aid station resembled a triage unit. Riders were strewn about, all complaining about the same thing as me, some dropping out. Here, I did want to quit—especially when a squall rolled through transforming my state from overheated and dehydrated to hypothermic in an instant. Thankfully I was far enough ahead of the cutoff time I was able to spend about an hour drinking and warming up.
Part IV – Finally, a good excuse to quit
The rigors behind us forced some comradeship for those who ventured into the next section of the course, ominously dubbed “8 miles of Hell”. I was the last to leave of my group and, by now, the cutoff time was looming. When in less than a mile in I was forced off of my bike to walk almost an entire climb I started doing math calculating my chances. At this time another American Flyers line came into my head. I’d better pump.
more fun from american flyers. “better pump.”
This kicked in some adrenaline, as there was absolutely no way I was going to do all of this riding and not be allowed to finish. I picked up my pace and passed our entire group. Then, as I was about to crest to final climb “of Hell” I ran into a situation.
A woman in the 50-mile race had stopped sweating, for some time, and then become hypothermic when the storm hit. Someone had stopped to help but they didn’t have a phone. I did, but calls for a rescue weren’t answered. So I called Josh, now hoping he’d dropped out. He had, answered, and we got things in motion. Unfortunately, most of the course does not have cell reception and it was hard to organize so we had to come up with a plan.
Obviously I didn’t care about finishing any longer. However, the best tactic was for me to ride for help and the shortest place that might be was ahead on the course. Sarah, another rider from our group, had also arrived on the scene to help so I left them with my phone and took off, riding harder and much faster than I had all day. I soon found a course official but he had no service, so I filled him in and rode on.
Josh had set things up and there were paramedics at the aid station and we strategized about what to do. Soon Sarah arrived with a report and, eventually, a plan was hatched that didn’t include us, meaning we had nothing left to do but finish the race. We hung out for a while, then “cruised” (relative at this point) that last 9 miles to the finish together. The end of an epic day and a perfect eye opener for what lies ahead.
Notes on the Butte 100: Tinker raves about this race on his blog, not just as a race but as a challenge for any recreational rider to finish. I have to agree. While the course isn’t as pure as the 99.9% single track of the Park City Point 2 Point, the fire roads are always engaging, technical, and stunningly-beautiful and there is plenty of excellent single track. I told a few course officials that it would be an amazing 100-mile ultra run course and think the combo would kick the crap out of Leadville, at least from an aesthetic and difficulty perspective. The Butte scene itself is positive and very supportive, which seems to be spearheaded by the Leipheimers, all of whom gregariously introduced themselves and shared about anything I felt like listening to. The event feels like a family affair (I didn't ask but race director Gina Evans is probably a Leipheimer somehow), which is getting more rare these days, so get after it before it turns into Leadville!
Congratulations to Alexadre Vinokourov for winning the Olympic gold. Vino’s always been one of my favorite riders. His crazy attacking style is exactly what makes bike racing great. I can’t think of anyone in the peloton who I’d rather have seen win, yet it’s almost 100% unexpected. Borat jokes aside, glorious nation of Kazakhstan has every reason to be very very proud.
What’s most amazing about this victory is that one year ago he “retired” from cycling after a horrific crash. Not only didn’t he retire, he somehow managed to race again by the end of last season. Always one of the toughest guys in cycling, that comeback pretty much sealed the deal.
He raced this year under the guise of helping develop younger riders, which didn’t seem like propaganda. By all accounts it was his most quiet year to date. Finally he emerged in the Tour, one of the only races he never won but was always a major player in---as one of the few who’d flip Lance and the Disco boys the bird and attack whenever and wherever he damn-well felt like it. He didn’t win a stage but became more ever-present as it progressed.
So the Olympics shouldn’t have been a surprise. But they were. A bit like a movie where an old guy comes out of retirement to show the young bucks a thing or two—stuff that doesn’t happen in real life. It was an amazing moment in sporting history and a great excuse to dust off this old article with a bit of Vino’s backstory. Click on the excerpts for some good reading from The Daily Peloton—-a Monday Psyche if you will.
For the first time in 100 years we have an English champion of France's finest sporting event. The Brits took second, won six stages, and with the likes of Team Sky--what amounts to a national team of sorts and perhaps, with a fine assortment of the Queen's subjects, even an Empire team--fair Albion has stormed the Tour like Henry at Agincourt. However, as is usual when the UK dominates the world, something is rotten in the state of... in this case cycling.
As I mentioned in my Tour intro, Bradley Wiggins and team have set a new template for how to win one of sport's greatest spectacles. But this new idiom has not exactly set the world on fire. Like the dominance forged by the Welsh longbow, calculated technology isn't always what the world wants to see. And, gentle reader, this brings me to today's most important topic. How are we going to save the world of cycling? For Queen. For country. And for all the rest of us.
The problem, it seems, is that many have found the calculated cool of Team Sky to be boring. Our hero, one Wiggo of down-the-pub, does this no favor in the above interview when he starts throwing around numbers that make racing seem like little more than a computer program (click here if the embed doesn't work--seems geo restricted). Without the chemical enhancement that we've seen in years prior, particularly the 90s when most of cycling's records were set, human limits are established and with a peloton full of data all one needs to do in order to cover a move is to assess the numbers. Can you sustain a 500 watt output for 20 minutes without a haematecrit north of 50? No? Therefore, no reason to chase. And so on.
As a physical trainer I find this fascinating. As a sports fan not-so-much. Give me Tommy Voeckeler any day. Sure, his cavalier riding will never with a Tour in this day and age but, man, it's fun to watch. And with this in mind just what is our beloved sport supposed to do? For the answers we turn to the same panel as my mid-race recap: Bob, Sam, Josh, Reed, Aaron, Dustin and moi. Take it to heart.
"Bring back dope. Seriously. Have a divisions for doping and no doping and let people watch whichever they want."
"I agree with Bob, it was kind of a boring tour. I think Sagan made it pretty interesting at times, as well as Cav, but there wasn’t a lot of excitement. Cadel and Nibali did attack, but they just didn’t have enough gas to make it stick. I don’t know that Van Garderen did either, but it would have been nice to see him try. I had hoped for more and thought Cadel could bring it, but I was wrong, wrong, wrong.
But the Cav sprinted out of the group yesterday was insane. I was gobsmacked.
Actually the most exciting parts of this tour have been the finishes while I’ve been waiting to see if the break is going to get swept up or make it to the end. Those are always great, but it seems like this year they were the highlight."
"Random doping control where you inject some riders and not others so that everyday is a crap shoot."
"Or maybe we could just have a realistic parcours. 120k stages, 2-3 climbs, let folks recover and be fresh for the next day. Fucking Horner said he had to let go of the leaders on peyresourdes because since gc wasn't an option, he needed to save his gas for today. Boring."
"I have to agree.
It’s a boring tour. Bring back more DOPE!
I re-iterate, not random drug testing ,but random drugging."
"Prefer clean riders, but they need to re-consider the parcours to make things more interesting. Obviously, the profile for this Tour did not result in compelling racing, at least among the GC rivals.
Big mountains are not likely to shake things up either. Without the dope, riders simply ride hard tempo and slowly shed the weaker riders. If a GC guy has a bad day (Evans) he loses time, if not, then the time gaps between riders are manageable.
I think they need more classics style stages that reward risk taking and are far less easy to control by the dominant teams. You can’t do away with the Alps and Pyrenees, but I think the Tour should put in more lumpy stages with cobbles, dirt, and time bonuses to make it interesting.
It might actually bring more riders into contention, which is a good thing."
"Or . . . This just dawned on me: do away with teams altogether. Everyone relies in neutral service.
That would be interesting."
"This is actually productive. We could save cycling.
Do away with measurement shit for sure. No watts et al. And no radios. I like teams but maybe not team cars. Neutral support and lots of it so you can't complain (or pay them off). Team cars can ride behind with spare bikes but that's it. No talking to your riders.
I really like Sam's idea about the parcours. Remember when Lance was complaining about having to ride cobbles, like it's a different sport. Fuck 'em. It's bike riding. Make shit hard but not just with endless miles on good pavement. I want to see some of those wimpy little GC fucks climb the 20% cobbles in Cordes. Guys like Boonen or Cancellara could gain minutes. Dirt. Sand, construction sites, super winding intercity courses. Back roads with wild boar. Courses are now so boring the peloton crashes all the time rolling down a dead straight road. Liven it up and they'll ride better. Bring back pub raids. Everything will be better. You won't even need dope. Just a few brews at the end of each day to take the edge off.
Henri Desgranges"
"Cobbles. Any race that has cobbles, or at least dirt, especially dirt climbing, is instantly better. Maybe Gilbert missed an opportunity to change things when he freaked about the dog instead of applauding its insolence in knocking him sprawling. But we don't want the dogs getting hurt. And what if we fucked with the riders, instead of late or early drug tests, make them go to the club on random nights and dance le velo techno. Be good for morale at least. And no more bank team sponsors, occupy cycling. Now just beer, bikes, or lingerie (why not? imagine the podium. and you know Cipo would love it, probably wear it too.)."
"You better put that on the straight dope. And shit, while you're at it, what's your platform for President. We still have a few months before people vote maybe there can be a write in!"
If anyone needs a power meter, heart rate monitor, watch or any other measuring device to calculating your riding mine are all for sale. I’m going Tommy Voeckler. Who decided we needed all the crap anyway? Just ride your bike and let everything else take care of itself.
On Eurosport today someone wrote in, “If it wasn’t for Voeckler this would be the Tour de Snore”. And while I don’t agree, necessarily, it sure would be a lot less fun. Everyone loves an attacking rider. Especially one who starts grimacing in agony with 60k and three climbs still to ride. Throw in lack of most techo gadgets thought to be indispensible for even recreational riders and you’ve got the definition of panache.
There was a moment today that made me so nostalgic I wanted to cry. Our hero, attacking on the day’s final climb, asking a fan how big a gap he had. No radio. No team DS. Just a guy on the side of the road. Probably took a swig of wine from him too. Maybe even a drag off his cigarette.
For a moment it was 1986 all over again. A lone rider attacks an entire peloton, against the sage advice of anyone who would listen, with no calculation whatsoever about whether or not he might make it or completely blow up. All he knows is that he’s going to put his head down and mash on the peddles until either his soigneur or God himself pulls him off his bike. Win or lose, that is how cool people race their bike. You just know The Badger is smiling.
Oddly enough I’m not the only person in the world who’s thought of doing challenges that mimic grand tour bike races. For your Friday Psyche I present a couple of other versions, one for motivation/cool-ness and another for practicality.
Starting with the latter I present the Velo News Tour training program. This is a great opportunity to, not only mimic what’s going on in the Tour (in very little time each day), but to get a solid cycling training program for free. I can’t believe it took me so long to hear about it but I’m sorry to say that VN has been one of my old daily indulgences my busier schedule has caused me to give up. I think they did it last year, too. Ugh, I feel shame.
look better than whatever you're doing this month?
The psyche part is that this is obtainable. Anyone can ride the route of the tour, as you’ll see in their blog they aren’t alone. Sure it’s a challenge on many levels, not just physical. But it would certainly worth some organizational headaches to try. There’s simply no way it wouldn't be a life-altering experience. To help them raise money click here.
I did some yoga to start the day and am pretty psyched to have a day off of my bike, except I’m not. I’m starting to finally feel decent after a week of some amount of misery. Let’s do a little recap, on both the race and the challenge, and lay out what’s ahead.
The actual event has been crazy, with crashes galore—ga-LORE! I’ve been following the Tour for nearly 40 years and have never seen anything like it. In lieu of boring reporting—after all this is a blog with no political restraints—let’s recap citing some spirited banter of my friends. Special thanks to Sam, Reed, Josh, Dustin and Bob.
“Wtf!? Has everyone in the peloton completely forgotten how to ride a bike?”
In spite of crashes and some serious fashion misgivings, the sprints have been excellent, spurred by the demise of the HTC train that at one time included most of today’s fastest men.
“Those helmets don’t look very cool.”
“Horrible helmets!”
“Well, I think Cav has put the “he’s got the best train” argument to rest. Like Steve said, he won that won McEwen style.”
“It should make for an interesting week. I've never seen such a deep sprinter field. If Cav wins them all he'll start making a case of best of all time. I don't think he will but he's smart so maybe, especially if he gets Greipel's wheel everyday.”
Unfortunately Cav got caught twice by crashes (such is life without a train) and, so far, Sagan’s been the revelation although Greipel probably won the rubber match if his last lead-out man doesn’t drop his chain. Anyway, the battle for the green jersey is still completely up in the air, as well as Cav’s place in history.
However, the best moment in the race so far was a transition stage where a breakaway held, animated by director sportif Marc Madiot’s enthusiasm. Check out the video above.
“I think it should go to the FDJ DS (most aggressive rider of the day award)—he was going crazy in the car!”
“He seems more enthused than I would expect a 2-time winner of Paris-Roubaix, but then I think that makes me appreciate it that much more.”
And on the race for yellow…
“Enjoy these lumpy stages, because the GC is battle is ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.”
“It's a long time since the days of Cippolini and friends. Any chance Sagan will show up in a leopard striped skin-suit? Doubt it.”
sagan, take some fashion tips, please
“I think what all of you Wiggo/Evans detractors are saying is that you miss dope. Well fuck, I miss it too. Shit, wasn't baseball more fun when every game you went to was like a home run derby? Who doesn't like seeing Discovery leading Big Tex onto Alpe d' Huez like the launching Cav at 200m?! It's fucking rad. Shit. I miss Ricardo Ricco. I miss Raimondas Rumas. I miss Simoni's grandmother's cookies and Festina. Willy Voet where have you gone?”
“Evans attacks way more than Armstrong ever did. The only difference is that he can't make it stick. Okay, he has a whinny voice but he rides with a fuckload of panache. And Wiggo trains like a Spartan and drinks a ton of beer. And he swears. In his first interview in yelllow he said it was "fucking great". Tonight he called his detractors "fucking cunts". The Texan would never do that because it would hurt his corporation. How is that boring? Nibali attacks on every single descent. Who the hell has ever done that? These guy aren't boring. They just aren't jacked full of EPO. And they're not Cipo. But, well, nobody is Cipo. Anyway, if he were in the race he would have won four stages and dropped out already so no use talking about him."
Cyrill Guimard “
“I fucking hate Cipo. He races the first week and now he’s already down on the beach in the French Riviera while I’m trying to hold onto the grupetto.”
All of which has provided sufficient motivation to stick with my own challenge. It hasn’t been easy. Psyche has been low, it’s been crazy hot, and I’ve been tempted to pull a Cipo and pack it in almost every day. Yesterday, however, I actually felt a bit better on the bike, which has renewed my enthusiasm for the weeks ahead, which looks like this:
Wed and Thurs are simulated Tour mtn days. On the slate is an 80-mile ride with over 10k of climbing on the road bike, followed by a mtn bike day featuring 4X 20 minute climbing intervals. Then I get two recovery days where I’ll ride trails staying as aerobic as possible, followed by another long mountain day and then a shorter interval day leading into the next day off.
Of course there’s other supplemental training. Primarily yoga and foam rolling, easy climbing (too hot to climb hard so sticking to active rest or ARC training), and one resistance—usually Asylum Strength--workout per week, following the 3 Weeks of Hell plan. During the next rest day the final week will be determined.
In closing, the Tour’s ads have been much better this year, especially on the European networks. This Specialized ad is truly inspired. Now get out there and ride!
To me, by far the most interesting storyline in this year’s Tour de France involves Bradley Wiggins. On the road he might be deemed a boring racer but when you lift the hood and see how’s he’s prepared for this year’s race it’s a fascinating story that brings back memories of creating P90X.
I’m inspired by training systems. Not just the day-to-day efforts that athletes use to prepare for events but the entire scope of training for a goal. During our P90X development Tony was generally focused on making the hardest and most creative workouts he could while I was strategizing how we’d integrate them into a system. A lot of how it came to fruition was stuff I’d learned from the Tour.
In fact, I have a memory intrinsically linking the two. While Tony was putting the hurt on the first 90X test group in LA I was in a hotel in France digging through data I’d been compiling from un-official test groups through our Message Board community attempting to do the opposite. I vividly recall a conversation with my colleague Isabelle, about stress tolerances of athletes vs lay people. We were both in Europe on different agendas but each had Beachbody projects foremost on our minds. She was there working with some Olympic athletes in Italy, but also had a program she was working on for us. I was there for the Tour, to witness Lance Armstrong attempt tp re-write history while trying to create a fitness program that might do the same.
Armstrong won his Tours by forever alerting the template cyclists used to train. Instead of logging thousands and kilometers and then racing into shape, his team devised a periodizational training plan focused around one big peak, the Tour de France. In his mind, no other race really mattered.
This is exactly what we were trying to do with P90X, alter the template for home fitness. Instead of making another sweat-fest cardio program, the idea was to systematically break down your body and build it back up over time, targeting all of your physiological factors in one program. On this balmy night in Grenoble my challenge was how to modify the training system we’d created for the broadest demographic. This required some hedging on the tolerance levels of regular folks vs athletes to accommodate the greatest number of people without injuring or overtraining them.
iconic climbs/iconic no helmet fashion
The results of that trip were that Armstrong made history, I wrote a couple of articles on the Tour, cancellation of Isabelle’s proposed Beachbody program leading to her wedding our CEO, and P90X Lean. All of which comes full circle around a guy called Wiggo.
Maybe he’s the P90X2 of cycling. Riffing off of Armstrong’s template only took Wiggins to the podium of a grand tour. Not satisfied, he’s re-shuffled the deck of cyclist training card with an audacious new plan using a coach with a swimming background. Like P90X did with home fitness, they’ve scrapped pretty much every traditional notion of how to train for bike racing. No “base miles”. No “racing into shape”. Not even Armstrong’s throw away races. Just blocks of training followed by a test race taken seriously, periodizided to include a few minor peaks leading to a major one.
Preliminary results are stunning. He’s won every race he’s targeted as a test, something even Armstrong never managed. And if he can indeed parlay that into a Tour victory he’ll have once again altered the training template for those harboring Tour dreams. And while he still has many detractors who dig up his past failures or say he’s peaked too soon, most of the industry “experts” said we’d never sell P90X.
Of course he hasn’t done it yet. That’s precisely while I’m watching. The first big test is tomorrow. For me, the drama will be more than what we see on the grimacing faces of men pushing their bodies to the limit. It will be the validation or failure of a new training system, which is something that excites me even more than sport.
With Le Tour and the Tour Challenge going on it's clearly bike month so let's celebrate the world's most iconic bike race with a classic short film from famed director Louis Malle. It focuses not only on the bike race but the culture around the race. Having been there I can say Malle has captured it very well and, in fact, even though Vive Le Tour was filmed in '62 it's amazing how little the spectacle has changed. The bikes are more techie (though probably less cool), the doping excuses more sophisticated than "bad fish", and feeding is more strategic than "pub raids"; but from the daily lifestyle of a town when a stage rolls through to the pre-race parade and the riders' extreme suffering, Tour still looks very much like it did in the 60s.
The Straight Dope is a balance between work and play, indoor training, nutrition advice, and outdoor sports, and it’s got followers on every side that’d prefer it to be more of one and less of the other depending on their personal perspectives. So for all of you, today’s post has a bit of everything: training, diet, work, sports and even birthday challenges.
The Beachbody Coach Summit is always a challenge for me. My de-facto job is one of a walking FAQ and I spend my week basically roaming around answering questions, which usually leaves me drained of energy and an audible voice by its end. This year, with 5,000 attendees and 2 days of P90X Certification tacked on, it promised to be a colossal task. An impending race and training schedule heightened it, which I amped up slightly by decided to attempt a “birthday challenge” on my way home.
Vegas in June is no picnic when you’re trying to train. Rides would have to be early and, en route, I did an interval session on a dirt road outside of Mesquite as a test. Finishing just shy of 8am, with the thermometer already north of 90, I concluded that late nights would not be on the agenda—or planned agenda anyways.
Summit is actually quite fun. I don’t mind answering questions. In fact I love it. Helping people better understand fitness is something I can go on about endlessly. In the moment it’s not tedious or tiring and I wouldn’t mind spending my entire job doing it. I did my best to clean up my plate of projects so that I could be as available as possible all week long. The key was then staying ultra hydrated and fed, kind of like a race, to sustain my voice and keep my brain turned on (your brain runs on glycogen, making the entire event not so unlike a week-long ultra).
much easier to hear and converse in the latter setting
Thursday I had two presentations, which I actually found easier than my general schedule. It seemed efficient to speak with a group instead of one on one, I had a microphone that saved my voice, and, most importantly, I didn’t have to speak over music or a crowd or anything else. Made me think I should just have an area where I answered questions all day but that would negate some of the coolness of Summit, which is a social environment where anytime you might run into Carl or Tony or someone else you’ve seen on TV.
louder than a bird or a plane, it's super workout!
Things went more or less perfectly until Sat, when a screaming crowd interrupted a perfectly peaceful dream at 5am. At first I thought it was partiers but looking out my window I saw that there were already hundreds of people gathered for the Super Workout that wasn’t starting until 6:30. Did some yoga and made my way down, which was the start of a long, long day punctuated by a “business” dinner with Dr. Marcus Elliott sometime after 2am.
with super coach and X2 cast member monica and super trainer and long-time friend marcus
The Finale
After sleeping far too little I rolled out of Vegas early. I was now hammered. Training is not just about recovering from muscle breakdown but hormonal and nervous system balance and the latter two were clearly in distress. Still, I was keen to keep to my schedule and I had a hard ride planned that day, which you can read about here:
I figured that a good long ride, especially if I could keep it somewhat aerobic, would bring things back towards homeostasis. I’d planned on over 5,000’ of climbing but given it was a 13-mile climb it seemed reasonable. However, Tiger’s challenge was, well, challenging. It ain’t birthday pretty hard.
On Utah Mountain Biking Dark Hollow is listed as a downhill trail. There isn’t a single mention of it being ridden uphill. This would have kept me off it if not for Tiger’s account. In fact, while he said it was hard his report didn’t sound too bad. Since it’s also a “must ride classic” I was expecting gentle meandering single track, perhaps tightly wound around Aspens. Instead, I was greeted with steep, loose rocks and dirt with big wide tire tracks, at least when it wasn’t mud or trees draped over the trail, or both.
Dark Hollow’s a big bike trail. While rideable on anything its forte is clearly for those who like to point it down and let er rip. Tiger’d ridden it on a light Moots hard tail, similar to what I was on, which while way less fun for the descent was crucial on the ascent since it’s easier to carry, and there was no shortage of bike portaging.
I spent most of the last 5 miles carrying my bike. If it weren’t for my Nepal race I would have bagged it. Not knowing how far I had to the summit, or if the trail would ever be more rideable, I wanted to turn around the entire time but was simply too intrigued about Tiger’s adventure not to keep going. “who would do this for fun?” I kept thinking over and over. It was the kind of shit they add to adventure races to make you hate them.
Near the end I finally hit some proper trail. It was beautiful, making me glad I’d persisted. And while the little adventure added to my overall fatigue it did kick me back into my default mode and out of the bizarre reality that comes from any trip to Vegas. And while I survived another Summit in reasonable fashion, one of this years I'm going to nail it and finish stronger than when I started.
There’s no contest for this week’s Friday Psyche. Along with my acceptance into the Yak Attack in Nepal comes this video of the 2012 edition. Seems like there will be some good suffering involved but also, as the last guy says, it looks “awesome!” I still can't believe that I'm actually getting to go. It's the chance of a lifetime.
As an added bonus here’s an extra video on riding in Nepal, which looks a lot more serene than the madness of the race. Beautiful though. Thanks, Sonya!
I just receive word that I’m one of 25 international riders to get into the Yak Attack, a 10-stage mtb race around Nepal that goes over a Himalayan pass at nearly 20k feet. Can you say psyched? Instead of me yammering on about a race I’ve never done check out Sonya Looney’s account. She’s a professional mountain bike racer, and first female finisher ever, but was still was so broken down by the rigors of the endeavor that things came to this:
I don’t know if I can promise such detailed and candid race coverage but my friend Rebecca has vowed that “if any of you cry I’m videoing it and pasting it all over the Internet”. So there you have it; if I lose it because I can’t finish the race you’ll get a video courtesy of “The Queen of Pain” that Specialized will make sure gets plenty of action. It very well could happen.
Not that we’re making fun of Sonya because she’s as tough as they come and will kick my ass on a bike any given day. In fact, her blog is so rad it's the highlight of today’s (mid-week ‘cause I was too busy to write anything up last weekend) Psyche. It’s truly a fantastic account of the race and Nepal in general. Having been there I can say she captured it exceedingly well. So sit back, grab a cup o’ chai, and enjoy the ride (or hike-a-bike)...
Even though the Psyche isn’t always a weekly feature I was admonished by a friend for not posting one this week. That’s because I’m down with a little cold, which is nice timing since my backs not back to 100% and Finnegan--my furry daily psyche reminder--has an injured foot so we’re out of commission anyway. But I always have trouble with creativity when I’m ill and just keeping up on work is hard enough. However, thanks to Reed, Sam, and a lag in posting I’ve got a good ‘un for ya on this weekend's racing in Europe.
Varmarcke attacks on 15% cobbles this is an awesome display of power. it also shows why bike racing outside of europe might always pale in comparison. we just don't have the roads they do in europe.
Got an email from Sam on Sat stating “for me bike racing season starts today” because it’s when the big names start to show. Nowadays professional bike racing is almost a year around sport, with cyclocross and winter 6-day races getting coverage and southern hemisphere events like the Tour of Oz and San Luis attracting major riders. But let’s face it, nobody really cares if Contador drops everyone, Greipel outsprints Cav, or Valverde returns from two years off and wins out of the gate until it happens against the big guns. And those guys tend to start their season now.
I don’t ride my bike a lot during the winter. As a weekend warrior who participates in many sports I train seasonally even though I want to perform at a reasonable level, which I think is the best way to train. In fact, I think I should be more diligent towards time off. Year around training for a sport, in my opinion, is not only a waste of effort but a hindrance. The best riders in the world take time off and amateurs should follow suite. When Contador says “I hardly rode my bike between the Tour (France) and December" there is a lesson there. You can’t peak all year. Choose targets and train for them with a purpose. I like my training to revolve around big events because it’s easier to keep your psyche up.
Last K of Kuurne-Brussel-Kuurne hard to see but note the sky train (blue stripes and helmets) leading cav to the 200 meter mark perfectly, making winning a formality for him. textbook
above: highlights from omloop. vanmarcke and boonen are clearly the strongest two in the race as on or the other is on the front almost the entire race. note vanmarcke's attack on a flat cobbled section with 20k to go that splits the field. ridiculously strong riding.
After getting destroyed at the Ritte team training camp it seems like a good time to address the difference between being in shape and getting into sports-specific shape. It’s important for any weekend warrior or aspiring outdoor enthusiast to understand and plan around this difference. Today’s post is a primer.
A sport doesn’t exist where you can simply train in the gym and then compete at a high level without a period of integration, where you transition the fitness gains achieved into real world scenarios. There are various factors involved in the answer. The obvious is skill, as every sport has its own technique, but the more subtle issues that tend to get overlooked involving specificity of sport.
The easiest example to understand is skin conditioning. Skiing, running, climbing, biking, horseback riding, you name it; all require that your skin be in a specific condition. Do any of these things too long off the couch, no matter how high your fitness level is, and you’ll wind up with blisters at best. Push it too far and a real injury can occur.
Skin is the leader of the integration chain—the obvious link that breaks down fast but adapts quickly. Following are a slew of physiological processes that all require neuromuscular adaptations of varying levels in order for you to be efficient. I like to lump these under a made-up word for neuromuscular patterns that blankets this entire category: engrams.
Engrams are the patterns a sport engrains in your physiology, like the “once you’ve ridden a bike you never forget” saying. Though you don’t lose them at a basic level, such as how to ride, run, ski, etc., you absolutely lose them in the realm of high performance, especially when you’ve made physiological improvements in fitness level.
Fitness gains made in the gym take some time to integrate, which is why athletes should only try and make big physiological changes in body composition during the off-season and, conversely, the closer they get to their performance goal the more specifically targeted their training should be. An outdoor athlete should be spending virtually no time in the gym (living room gym, whatever) close to a big event. But if you want to improve year to year you should spend a lot of time in the gym during your off-season. Check out my 2011 training synopsis and see how my gym training sessions tapered close to each big event.
For an example of what happens when you don’t do this let’s use at the Ritte camp. In SoCal, where Ritte is based (click here for awesome Wired article on Ritte), racing season begins in early Feb. This means that camp, at least for some, is a final tune up to race season.
My race season begins in June and ended in November, putting me in the very midst of off-season training. If I were a professional I would not mix my training with such a group because it will cause too much breakdown and interfere with my program. No coach would ever advise such a thing. But I’m not a professional racer. I’m a professional lab rat and wanted to mingle with my team, most of whom I’d never met. So I showed up in very good gym shape but with almost no time on the bike in two months, knowing full well I’d spend the weekend blurry-eyed and hanging on for dear life under the guise of anecdotal evidence.
If camp had been about who can do the most pull-ups, core movements on a stability ball, or probably even one-leg squats I’d likely have fared well as most of the team had left the gym behind in November. Specific integration often means you lose some of your training-specific strength in favor of, in this case, your ability to turn bigger gears at the same cardiovascular output where you turned smaller gears in the off-season. This gear difference makes a rider a racer. The example works the same across all sports, and is how we differentiate between in shape and sports shape.
