I tried starting off this blog with artificial positivity, but hell, this blog is all about the cold hard reality of us skinny kids playing around on our bikes. That is what thee shall get.

Took a week off after Philly. It would have been really fun, but I was down for the count with another sinus infection, and I just didn't want to go on with another course of friggin antibiotics. Then, my Dad visited later that week to have another surgery to address complications from previous surgeries for his iliac artery fibrosis. This followup surgery wasn't major, but after his spinal anaesthesia he suffered the typical paralyzing headache side-effect from the postdural puncture. What this meant for me was that I served as a male nurse for a very cranky Dad for several days. Poor guy can't catch a break. It was a long weekend.

Last week's return to training was a mental battle of epic proportion. I think I had one day when I felt good, all the others it was like pushing glue through my arteries. No go. And, for some reason, my taint is no longer compatible with my saddle. So uncomfortable on the saddle lately. Uncool.

I am getting kicked out of my perfect downtown apartment. The building owner sold it to some business and they're converting my chic pad to offices. It's a travesty, really. I found a new place with a handsome new roommate, but the lease doesn't start till Aug. 15, and so I have found a temporary place for 2 months. I am extremely excited to move TWICE in 2 months. The last several days have been spent breaking my back lugging boxes to the temp pad. Btw, the temp pad is awesome and worthy of a blog- more on it later.

Moving really does kill one's enthusiasm for life. I hope that 150 trips up and down various stairwells will replace the proper training that I should have been doing for the upcoming Fitchburg. Needless to say, suffering will be the theme at Fitchburg. I guess that's usually the theme. Cool.

E11even is presently taking her comps. Talk about a hard test- a week of hell. It's stress-city up in there. I think I am absorbing some secondhand-stress. She's a smart cookie, though. Doing what I can to support her.

I just received a letter that my final insurance appeal for one Dr. I saw during my February 2006 visit to the Santa Cruz ER was rejected. You wouldn't believe the story so I won't even tell it. 16 friggin months later. I don't think anything in my life has infuriated me more than dealing with these medical insurance claims. I can liken the painful process to biting the inside of one's mouth... you get a little chunky nodule of healingness, and then when it's 70% healed, you bite it again because it's sticking out. Has anyone else experienced the repeat-mouth-bite problem? What the f am I talking about.

My calf blew up 2 Thursdays ago again, but Jay Dicharry at the SPEED Clinic put an end to my problems. Dude knows his sheeeite.

I got what I believe was a spider bite at the edge of my armpit about 10 days ago. It was like a giant mosquito bite, but then 2 days later a light pink circle grew out 2" around the red lump. Then, it began to itch intensely. I don't think it was a tick bite because it itched and it didn't look like a bullseye. But, it is over a week later now and it still itches, and what was then a 2.5" diameter circle of redness is now a bunch of tiny specled red dots. It is not consistent with Lyme disease, but it definitely had me scourging the Internet for pictures of my rash. This search turned up some pretty awesome images. I would upload a picture of my awesome rash, but I can't download photos off my phone anymore since I attempted to connect Christoph's phone to my MPT software. Lucky for y'all.

Recent fun events include fishing with Christoph, seeing Knocked Up, and attending the awesome Shentai carnival here in town.

I'm off to take the Outback to get a slow tire leak repaired. Someone train for me please.

Yeaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Life. Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.

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Continuing my trend of less-than-optimal race readiness, I woke up Sunday morning, the morning of the Philadelphia International Championship, at about 3am with a sharp sore throat and phlegm aplenty. The phlegm buildup was causing me breathing distress and so I hocked a few loogies an took another hit of Zicam and popped a ColdEeze and went back to bed. I then woke up and popped a Guaifenesin/Phenylephrine pill, and got suited-up.

Having never been rostered for Philly before with Colavita, I was officially ready to do the awesome-est bike race of my little cycling career.

As prescribed by DS Wirsing, my sole job was to get in the early breakaway. Simple... just ride myself silly until I was in that move. Right. Well, no. I felt so friggin' crappy for the first lap that I almost dropped out of the race. It was like my brake was on. I told the guys that I just didn't have it, and I surfed the back of the peloton awaiting my destruction.

The early break went, and Wirsing reported to us in the race radio that pretty much all teams were represented except Rite Aid. Great. That was my job. I just couldn't do it. The peloton was sitting up and letting the break go. So, I decided to give one-last blowout attempt and tried to bridge to the 15-rider break (which was about 45-seconds ahead). My attempt to bridge was like a slow-motion train wreck. I crapped-a-brick and chased for about 30-seconds, an all-out effort, only to look back and see the peloton strung out behind me.

I believe that it was this terrible bridge attempt that made a significant impact on the race. Perhaps had I not made this sloppy effort, the rest of the peloton would have been content with the move. The bridge attempt ignited a peloton surge, and eventually us Rite Aid ballers got on the front and did some damage-control tempo for a while. Eventually, the Nagivators took over for 1/3 of a lap, and the break was caught before the Wall. So, thanks to this sequence of events, the natural order of Philly was changed forever. No long break, just a firestorm of breakaway efforts during the day that contributed to the fastest course speed in the history of the event. All thanks to Rite Aid.

Anyway, I eventually found my race legs and was able to make it over the Manayunk Wall 9 times before I realized that my rear tire was going flat. The flat came at a bad time and my race was over. But, what a great experience.

The team really asserted itself. Alejandro Borrajo got 4th. Jake Rytlewski went solo for a lap, gaining up to over a minute, and everyone else made solid contributions in the race.

Doing a race like Philly, even if you're feelin' crappy, makes it all worth it.

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Did not finish. Did not get dropped. Just another excuse.

Reading started out just dandy. It was a beautiful day. My legs were feelin' great. BUT-- Heavy pressure continuously built up in my gut throughout the race, and with 3 laps to go, it grew to critical-status level. I took a big swig from my bot on the 8th lap, and it caused me so much discomfort that I essentially barfed it up. So, I eased off, pedaled up the big hill easy, and coasted down the other side, dodging unaware pedestrians in the crosswalks. After 10 minutes passed, I let out several voluminous belches and farts, improving my status. I then showered my innards upon a porta-john, and sat on a bench. Not tired, just in a silent rage.

I really would like to finish a race one of these days and feel absolutely exhausted. This has not happened for a long time now, and it is killing my nrg for racing. I've had all these totally crappy but real EXCUSES for not doing well. It has been either sickness, or a big cramp, or a communication misunderstanding, or a massive stomachache, or a back spasm, an overstretched calf, or a dropped chain-- always SOMETHING to f-up the race.

When you drop out of a race with an excuse... nobody tells ya GOOD JOB. Nobody, especially he who just worked his ass off to finish, feels sorry for your race-ending stomachache. Any why should they? It was an unfortunate missed opportunity. That's what it was. Try again.

Frustration has been quietly growing inside me during this season, and I'm starting to reach a point where I'm just gonna flip out if I don't have a good solid race. I'd really like to get to the end of a good road race and feel like I really emptied the tank and gave it what I had. Will that race be Philly? I friggin hope so.

I'm back in New Jersey for a day hanging out with the Fam.

Oh yea, Alejandro got 2nd. He good. He fast.

p.s. Thanks to those who offered their tactical advice during the race and shouted "move up" at me. Somehow I missed that lesson when I was a CAT 5.

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I know, I know... This recent slump in blogging is crackin' my eggs, too. I've been twisting the throttle pretty hard on all fronts lately, and so the icing thins out. Forgive thy skinnypros.

So, what up? Who wants to look at photos of extreme maximum watts being laid down? Yea, that's what I thought. Hi mom!

Raleigh Twilight crit
© Charles M. Herskowitz - Snorting Bull Photo

Bike Jam crit
Did a lot of teamwork, got in the winning break, then cramped-out with several laps to go.

Lancaster in Commerce Bank Triple Crown
This photo validates that I was still there with 4 or 5 laps to go and actually had legs to go with some moves. I needed to take bigger risks in the slick corners, and ultimately, poor pack position killed me.
© Charles M. Herskowitz - Snorting Bull Photo

After this string of races, I need to shower thanks and good feelings upon my teammates and team management. Also, thanks to Charles for the photos- a great dude and a true skinnypro fan.

I'd say this photo pretty much sums up my current disposition (this is tha P-Hen's nephew- hilarious):

Ready to rumble.

Much to discuss on other fronts- but that will need to wait.

3 comments