The Atheist Training Bible for Old Bicycle Racers, Chapter 19: The dreaded off season

August 7, 2016 § 13 Comments

It’s August. The sun is still beating down. There are still races on the calendar. February is so far away it might as well be in Micronesia. Yet for all that, people are already starting to ponder The Question and its bastard variants, i.e. “What should I be doing for the off season?”

Glad you asked.

First you should take out a calendar for 2016 and see how many races you did. By “races” I don’t mean NPR or Telo or coffee cruises with a sprunt or Strava contests or any ride that features a “sag,” “rest stop,” or a floppy bag filled with goodies.

By “races” I mean events where you pay money, pin on a number, get shouted at by an official in an ill-fitting golf shirt, get pushed around in a pack of doped-up insane people, run the risk of crashing and getting a brain injury, and ultimately either get dropped, get chopped in the sprint, or finish cursing the day you were born and swearing to never do a another one as long as you live or until next week, whichever comes first.

So after toting up all those races you can effectively plan your off season as follows:

  1. 1-5 races: There is no off season.
  2. 6-10 races: There is no off season.
  3. 11-15 races: There is no off season.
  4. 16+ races: You should have taken a break back in April, because there’s still no off season.

“B-b-b-b-b-but!” you complain. “I’m tired! I’m worn out! I’m mentally fateeeeeeged! I gotta rest!”

All of that is true, but it’s unrelated to the three races you did back in March. In other words:

  1. You are tired because you are old.
  2. You are worn out because you are old.
  3. You are fatigued because you are old.
  4. You gotta rest because you are old.

And guess what? Next year you will be what is known as “older.” This will require even more rest. It will not require an off season. Off seasons are for ski resorts, not chubby hobby bike profamateurs.

The single biggest obstacle to rest is what we colloquially refer to as the “weekend,” but is more commonly known as “the opportunity to do 200 miles of riding in 48 hours.” This may sound like a mere warmer-upper if you do events like RAAM or have a nickname like “Metal” or “Mr. 10,000.”

For old people, though, it will not work cramming all your weekly miles into a couple of days, somehow hoping that it will compensate for doing little or nothing the rest of the week, and somehow hoping that ((beer+shitty food) x (Mon + Tue + Wed + Thu + Fri) – Big Century Ride = Fitness.

The only thing that will remove your non-season’s season-ending fatigue is an old trick used by hunter-gatherers who had to scrap for every meal every fuggin’ day. It’s the old “get up early trick.”

Yes, your August doldrums are not the result of too much riding but of sloth, and your off season training plan shouldn’t feature anything special at all except this: Get the fuck up early enough to get in your weekday rides, and go the fuck to sleep (there’s a book on this) early enough so that you can get the fuck up early enough to ride again the next day.

Please email the reasons that you can’t go to bed early or you’re a night person or whatever else to: sloth@slothful.com; don’t email them to me because I know why you can’t go to bed early and get up early: You’re lazy and you’d rather pound the extra carafe of tequila or watch the BIG GAME, you know, the game that’s so big they will never have another one like it ever again until next week.

Go ahead, set your alarm for 5:00 or 4:00 or 3:30 or whatever the magic number is, and go the fuck to sleep so that you get the necessary 6 or 7 hours of beddy-bye time. You’ll run into people like Craig Hummer, Doug Murtha, Jim Bowles, and the MB Morning Crew, and never need another off season again.

END

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In George’s words

November 2, 2015 § 27 Comments

Craig Hummer’s book, The Loyal Lieutenant, does a great job of revealing the character of George Hincapie. The book is filled with quotes by Lance Armstrong, Jonathan Vaughters, Frankie Andreu, Christian Vande Velde, Michael Barry, and Jim Ochowitz to name a few.

So what kind of guy was silent, loyal, smiling George?

“When we as a group made that decision to play ball, George and I, along with the others on the team, crossed over that threshold together.” Lance Armstrong, who wrote the Foreword to the book.

“I honestly felt I would never have to deal with my drug use.” George Hincapie.

“Milan-San Remo ended up being the final straw where [a number of us] decided we’d do it.” Lance Armstrong.

“I couldn’t compete on a level playing field without some assistance.” George Hincapie.

“I felt it was my only choice.” George Hincapie.

“I didn’t reach these decisions without careful consideration.” George Hincapie.

“I could tell from his tone and his protestations, that he’d already taken the infamous step, and that moment produced an epiphany for me. I had to do the same.” George Hincapie.

“Back then, those seemed like the only choices.” George Hincapie.

“I don’t have a choice. We have to do it to survive. Everybody’s doing it now. I don’t have a choice.” Frankie Andreu.

“I felt a little guilty.” George Hincapie.

“The thought of cheating never crossed my mind.” George Hincapie.

“I couldn’t make eye contact as I told them it wasn’t mine.” George Hincapie.

“I nervously asked for the drug.” George Hincapie.

“I exited the bathroom a changed man. I felt completely at peace.” George Hincapie.

“I also felt proud that I’d committed to the next level.” George Hincapie.

“I always tried to take the bare minimum.” George Hincapie.

“Where other teams had been good at simply cheating, we strived to be better at being professional in all aspects as required to win the Tour.” George Hincapie.

“I didn’t take any EPO that Tour because I started with a high hematocrit, or red blood cell count (my mother suffers from polycythemia vera).” George Hincapie.

“What also made Jonathan different, however, was that he was actively searching for new and better ways to dope.” George Hincapie.

“From a self-preservation standpoint, I felt it was important to know if there were any side effects.” Jonathan Vaughters.

“The biggest result of the 1999 Tour was that we started the gradual process of teaching a new generation of Americans about the sport, what it entailed, and what it took to make Lance the best.” George Hincapie.

END

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Shadow riders

November 26, 2013 § 11 Comments

Whenever I get bummed out about all the douchebaggery in Old Foks Racing a/k/a “masters,” I think about the shadow riders. The shadow riders, you know, they perk me up.

They are the men and women who ride in the shadows of the d-bags. They often don’t race, or if they do, it’s occasional, and whenever they show up on a ride — if they show up on a ride — they remind you what legs, lungs, and unfettered ferocity mean on a bike. The shadow riders didn’t get the “fast riders are assholes” memo. They smile and go hard and beat you up the hill because they’re just plain old faster.

Craig Hummer is one of my favorite shadow riders. He doesn’t race at all. In between his crazy-busy schedule as a national TV sports commentator, he throws on a light, rolls out at 5:00 AM, and charges around the PV Peninsula.

The first time I met Craig, I didn’t even meet him. We were going up to the Domes and he was going down. “That’s Craig Hummer,” someone said.

“Who?”

“Craig Hummer. The TdF announcer.”

“Whatever.” I didn’t have a TV and wasn’t interested in people who talked about the Tour de France.

“He’ll rip your fucking legs off.”

Now … I was interested. I looked him up on Strava, and he had some mythical times on some mythical segments. “Ah, so what. Anyone can chalk up times on Strava.” So I thought.

A few years later I did my first ride with Craig. He ripped my legs off, which was bad, but he crushed my fragile ego, which was worse. All the way up VdM he was chatting. All the way to the Domes he was gabbing. I never got a word in edgewise, not because he talked too much, but because I was coughing up a kidney.

Wanting to make sure it wasn’t a mistake, I rode with him again, this time with Tri-Dork and Ol’ Scabies, who is 70 going on 95. Ol’ Scabies rode better at 70 than I ride at 49, and it was only through the combined half-wheeling of Tri-Dork and Craig that we shed him. If I can ride 1/10 as well as Ol’ Scabies when I’m his age, I’ll surrender my AARP card and take up Elite road racing.

Craig dusted my broom again, hairy legs and all, chatting the whole way like we were at a quilting bee. Then he honored me by saying he looked forward to our next ride. The sun was up by then, but it was only 7:30 AM. The next time we talked, by message, he was jetting his way to NYC, out of the shadows and into the limelight.

Damn ugly jersey dude

The first time I got ground up into gristle and pooped out the back by Tony Manzella, he was wearing a terribly ugly jersey emblazoned with the names of famous bike racers. He had come down to the South Bay to sample the Donut Ride, and the bite he took was big enough to eat the whole damn thing.

Tony was obviously too big to climb well, so when he dropped the whole fuggin’ wankoton and soloed to the college, the problem was simply that he didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to be able to do what he did. Fucker.

The handful of times we rode Mandeville together on the Holiday Ride, my goal was simple: Stay with Tony until I gave birth to a small vomitus. Then quit. Each time I achieved this goal.

Tony’s the guy who decides to race ‘cross, shows up, does the most competitive races and places in the top four his first race. Then the top two. Etcetera. He’s the guy you fucking hate, except, you can’t possibly hate someone that good, that honest, that friendly, that fair, and that willing to take a pull. Then, to really make you feel like a POS, he’s the guy who can chat you with you before the ride about … art.

Tony’s a shadow rider par excellence. He loves to ride, but his integrity and decency and perspective show you, by example, that the master’s racing scene doesn’t have to be what it is. There are people out there who have that rarest thing of all, common sense, common decency, perspective.

So what if he ground me up and spit me out on Seven Minute Canyon? So what?

Up the Hill, and down again

November 16, 2012 § 10 Comments

PV Bicycle Center is celebrating its fourth year atop the Palos Verdes Peninsula with, among other things, a hill climb featuring the legendary Switchbacks. The race goes off at 9:00 AM at the bottom of Palos Verdes Drive East. Victims meet at 8:45 AM to sign up and receive last rites at the parking inlet off Palos Verdes Drive South, just west of Palos Verdes Drive East. The first rider goes off at 9:00 AM and then successive riders leave at thirty second intervals. Category winners of the hill climb will receive a $50 gift certificate to the shop, and a supply of Athlete Octane.

At 10:00AM riders will regroup back at the shop for prizes, product demos by Marc Pro, free samples from vendors such as Athelete Octane, and for the chance to check out the shop’s 2012 clearance sale.

Guest of honor

This is all well and good, of course, but the real attraction to this event is that you’ll finally get to meet Craig Hummer. Craig is best known to Tour de France fans as the dude who provides color commentary with Bob Roll during the annual July extravaganza that is the Tour. However, here on the Hill, he’s known for something else: Not mixing with the proletariat.

Despite being a phenomenal athlete, the dude refuses to do the Pier Ride. Never shows up on the Donut. Avoids the Holiday and Wheatgrass rides like the plague. Instead, if you want to hang with Craig, you have to troll the Hill or Westchester Parkway long before sun-up, where he’s most likely to be found doing what he lives to do: Search out and destroy your Strava KOM’s.

Yep, this wanker likes to find an area KOM and then devote his life to claiming it. In fact, he used this stealth technique to steal one of my most-prized segments called “The Big One,” a segment I created and owned until it was discovered and ridden by another rider. In short, although Craig wouldn’t be caught dead riding with you, he’ll snatch and crush your Strava dreams under cover of darkness, and his coup stick of KOM’s dangles with numerous climbs around the peninsula.

Although I don’t have any intel on whether he’ll be hanging around after he blazes up the Switchbacks, chances are good that if you have a motorcycle or a net you can delay him long enough to get answers to your most burning TdF questions. I know I’ll be hanging around to find out when he’s going to show his stuff on the NPR.

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