Noob Alert!

Serving a self-imposed weekend suspension for cumulative, overzealous cycling behavior taxed the soul, at least for ME. No rides this weekend left ME with the twitches. On Saturday, took my 16 year-old for a practice drive (full Aussie), an act of penitence whilst trying to instill a greater sense of safety in the psyche of my precious daughter.

During the drive (50+ miles of Aussie greatness), I witnessed a heaping helping of cyclists in various stages of fitness. Since I can't relate any firsthand HCD exploits, our readership will have to make due with random observations on the rider at large made by ME during the inevitably tedious (sometimes frightening) shotgun ride around ATX.

Topic of the Day? NOOB ALERT. If you are unaware of the definition of a NOOB, you may well be one. Gamers refer to the uninitiated in this scornful term. A NOOB (newbie) is likely to blunder into a firefight with axe drawn, or be the guy running in place into the corner of the building while enemies leisurely toss grenades at him. On the road, there are telltale signs of NOOBness. If you ask ME, here are a few:

1. NEON -  Just ask Stanton. This is his biggest peeve. I agree with him. Rapha doesn't sell anything in neon. Which means it is uncool. If you own some, wear it with pride, knowing you look like your gramps mowing the lawn in knee high black socks and penny loafers.

2. CamelBak - No self-respecting roadie wears a camelbak. Stopping to refuel is part of the social contract of cycling. A camelbak makes a statement that you are like the RoadWarrior, with barrels of fuel hoarded in the back of your NOS-juiced, post apocalyptic steed. Mel Gibson is crazy. The apocalypse is still pending. So stop. Get some water bottles. They are like $5.

3. MTB Helmet - This is a small thing. But significant. that visor on the end of your helmet marks you like a fat kid holding a bag of smarties. Take it off dude.

4. RollerCoaster! - You know a NOOB straight off when you see absolutely no pedaling on stretches of flats/slight declines. On ONLY the fiercest descents should the pedals idle. This ain't a picnic. So turn 'em. Nice and steady. We dominate the downhill because we don't stop workin!

5. Rock-n-Roll - Another tell of the NOOB? inordinate body movement on efforts. When someone is pulling a "Stevie Wonder" on the bike, they either have the worst fit in the world, or they need to learn how to economize. Upper body movement is wasteful and unwanted. Look at Michael Rasmussen. That guy probably doesn't even FEED himself! So refrain from the histrionic shoulder swaying/head bobbing that proved your effort when you were ten, riding that Huffy with the slick on the back. Be still. Let your hammers do the shouting.

6. NO PARTY LINES - Back in the stone age, my parents talked on a "party line." For the sub-40 crowd, this meant that multiple families shared a land line. So one could listen in on their neighbors conversation, and vice versa. On the bike, there are no party lines. No sharing your line, no wheeling into your neighbor's line. You hold your line, your neighbor holds his. No beeboppin' and skattin' betwixt and between. Predictable.

7. First Hill KOM - Don't blow the matchbook on the first climb. This makes for a long day of suffering, and plays into the hands of the "Friends" that invited you out for the Hammerfest. Getting on the podium on Hill #1 can lead to tearful calls to your wife 75% into the ride. This is not an aphrodisiac.

8. Premature Unclipulator - After the inevitable fall at slow speeds due to failure to unclip, there is a tendency to henceforth de-clip early. Disengaging from the pedals prematurely severely limits your options, and just looks goofy. Stay clipped until nearly stopped. Do it for your perineum.

9. Gorilla Legs - No further explanation necessary.

10.Wattage Slut - This is a second level NOOB. Just got your powermeter, and need to share your numbers with the world. Worse, you need to know everyone else's numbers. Constantly. Having worked through this issue myself, I empathize. Power is cool. Even cooler when kept private, focused on training plans and ride strategy. 

The Main Event

So Much Material

Chris Perkins has been given many nicknames. And a guy with his numerous qualities[1] will be given many more endearing or sardonic ones I am sure. However, I have yet to coin a suitable nickname for Chris. Until now.

Yet None of It Works

When I began riding with the HCD, and met Chris, many called him “Coach”. That became awkward as soon as we began training at PH. Coach Livingston didn’t like the confusion it caused in the studio or on the road. Attempting to regain clarity, he tended to put us through the physical or virtual ringer too often. So I quickly stopped using his name in vain. I went with “Perk” for a while. It was simple enough. Rolled off a West Texas sun starched tongue easily enough. It also suited a guy with a penchant for espresso as well. It just didn’t seem to convey the same creative genius spawned by one’s riding skills, heritage, stature, or secret affinity for cartoon fairies. A man, cyclist, and friend with Chris’ character, prowess, and appreciable traits deserves a befitting nickname.

Riding Personality and Presence

If you ride with someone long enough you begin to note unique things about their personality and presence. Over past year I have ridden more times and miles with Chris than anyone else. Ever. So my description of Chris’ riding personality and presence has been forged by personal observations several times over.

The first thing I notice about Chris is that he looks “solid” on the bike; particularly on his Firefly as it’s a perfect steely match to his “stout” build. Let’s be honest: he’s no Michael Rasmussen. Since he’s thinned up a bit this year, no longer encumbered by a spare tire, his knees to hug the top tube while he pedals instead of flailing out like two huge ham hocks. He has created a smooth, steady, and predictable pedal stroke that instills confidence to those who ride beside him or on his wheel. Heck his presence in our peloton even makes some shout out profanities at passing motorists or mouth off to annoying VOP members.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that he is becoming an increasingly efficient cyclist. He has accomplished this by sticking to his assigned ride metrics each and every time. His meticulous adherence to them reminds me constantly of the boxer’s credo: “Plan your work. Then work your plan.”

If you pay close attention[2] on our rides, you will notice that Chris is always pedaling. Up hills, down hills, cresting hills, and on the flats. He rarely, if ever, coasts. I’ve heard him curse. Sometimes when his power meter reads <150 watts. By constantly pedaling, he has stored up vast amounts of energy that he taps into whenever he needs or wants. The rest of us can too.[3] This leads me into the last characteristic and ultimately to the way I came up with his new nickname.

Have you noticed Chris has become a little more “judicious”[4] about the amount of time he spends up front? Since I like to ride beside him, I often get to hear his thoughts regarding the “equitable distribution of time in front”[5].  Because he is more aware of the efficient use of his stored up energy, he has now become more concerned about giving everyone the opportunity to “learn proper peloton etiquette”[6].  “Thanks for being so thoughtful in my development as a cyclist.”[7]

That’s a feigning tactic used by greyhounds, thoroughbreds, and more appropriately, a prizefighter. Effortlessly they float in and out of the competition, responding to each move with an equaling counter. Then, in the last minute, with a flurry of activity and unexpected energy, they hit you in the mouth with two jabs and a roundhouse punch to snatch victory from your grasp. Chris has become a rider who doesn’t need to win the insignificant sprints or climbs, but he’s still there, always in the mix. Then, when it really counts, having mastered his energy output throughout the day, he’ll turn it on with a burst of power and will sustain it until he’s free of the chase.

Why Do I Feel Like I Was Just in a Fight?

For those of us less athletically gifted, with full-time jobs and mouths to feed other than our own, cycling often becomes a battle. We struggle with motivation, time commitments, fitness and weight levels, technology malfunctions, and mechanicals. That battle continues into the rides themselves. Retrospectively, most ride memories evoke a sense of competing in a boxing match, with the physical efforts required to complete the ride representing rounds of the match.

Because of the afore mentioned attributes, I usually feel like I’ve been in a 12 round fight after riding with Chris. Time and time again he is always there. Strategically waiting for the moment that inevitably occurs on every ride. Based on the route, we know them well enough to predict when and where they’ll come. For example, any Aussie will include plenty of suffering on Spicewood and/or the three climbs on 360 South. No matter how strong I feel on a ride, I know Chris will try to dig deeper than me. He seems wired for the showdown. Any showdown.

Wait For It …

So my nickname for him is: The Main Event. Or Main Event. Or M. E. Or M.E.ⁿ (where n=the number of times when something he’s accomplished becomes the defining moment of the ride).

A few thing things about the Main Event that are analogous to Main Events in Boxing:

•   It has the most buzz surrounding it since it is generally the most prestigious match on the card. All promotion, advertising, and enthusiasm generated are by the Main Event itself.

• It’s something everybody wants to see. While some of the under card fights might be interesting, the Main Event is what everybody hangs around to witness and experience.

• It always happens. Traditionally, a Main Event takes place as the final match of a title-match-tournament in boxing. It’s inevitability hovers over every site. When it starts, people stand, light bulbs flash, and voices hit a crescendo.

• As with most sporting events[8], improved sightlines and ticket prices increase the closer you get to the action. You got to pay the price if you want to see the Main Event.

• (And finally) The winner of the Main Event commonly receives a pimped out championship belt for his herculean effort.

So for all the times before, and times certain to come, here’s a belt fit for a winner. Our Winner. Our Main Event.

---

[1] His untrimmed hair turns into a curly reddish afro, has connect the dot freckles, calves the size of oil cans, an accounting degree from UT, three kids, a lovely wife, four bikes, a mild obsession for all things and guys that wear Rapha cycling gear, and unceasing wit and humor are only but a few choice material elements for a nickname.

[2] stopped gasping for air while reaching for your water bottle and secretly hoping it’ll slip from your sweaty hands so you can stop long enough to catch your breath.

[3] Just not as many times.

[4] ticked off

[5] beast of burden that he’s become

[6] Rule V it  and get their a$$es up here.

[7] Horse cuss!

[8] unless you are attending a UT men’s basketball game

Johnson City - Intervals of Sunshine

ME, Hoodie, Wulf, Ullrich, Ty, VJ, Scheibs, Garreth and his buddy Nick met at the trash dump on 290 and Fitzhugh for a 70 mile loop to JC and back.

Instructions from the coach for me and Hoodie: sandwich a 90-minute wattage interval at tempo between endurance pace start and finish. We started at a leisurely pace underneath perhaps the best skies of the year. Temps in the high 50's, with a slight tailwind ushered us into the loop.

Such a sweet pace on the way out. At least for ME. Apparently, W/KG in the Hill Country translates to about 9% more Watts for Hoodie than me. By the time we stopped in JC, The Hoodster had already finished his 90 minutes.

At JC, Scheibs, Ullrich Wulf and VJ turned back around for various reasons. These included: desire to ride recovery pace, anxiety about the impending interval. However, the best alibi? One guy had a 1pm appointment for a pedicure. I am still speechless.

281 was as pleasant as it can be. The ride for ME from that point to 12 and Hamilton Pool went like this:

Flats and Downhills - The Badger tucks in
Uphills - The Badger comes up and keeps ME company

All the while we watched Nick slowly float away off the front.That kid is talented, and Einstein is smiling upon him. Speaking of W/Kg, let's just say hills are his friend.

Two incidents with canines on Cypress Mill. One canine almost sunk his canines into Garreth's calf. This means the dog had a BIG mouth. Apparently, the dog was laying in wait, drooling over the prospect of a shaved leg tartar. ME and the Badger missed this attack. I guess the dog was holding out for a Choice cut, and we are ground chuck.

Post interval, we regrouped and coasted to the finish. Beers on my patio ensued, at least for the HCD old timers. Big tanks, bigger stories. Good times.

Pedal (kinda) Hard

Soggy Saturday here in the ATX. While there were a handful of hardmen on the road today, I was not amongst them. Perhaps it was the rain, or the lightning, or the wind. Big deal killer was the postride cleaning. I just don't like skanking out the bike, then having to clean it up right after a big ride.

Such lethargy drove ME and Ullrich to the 10am PedalHard class. Andrew "Mighty Mouse" was running the show solo this morning, and did a great job. It's amazing how efficient those guys are at setup, course selection and most importantly, music choices. Some great tunes today. Hoodie-style.

SUPERFLUOUS OBSERVATION: PedalHard is the only format where someone like Andrew/Colton/Stephan would EVER be in a position to bring a schmo like me a water bottle. Someone once asked me if there was a noticeable difference between me and those guys (I will include KL and Brant in that group as well). Uhhh, yeah. My response: Imagine a matchup in the Octagon, Toddler vs Ninja. I am the one soiling his pants....

Here's to hoping for some sunshine tomorrow!

The Postman Always Rides Twice

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night"

The beginning of the Postman's Creed. It could also be the preamble to Rule V, which would end the sentence with a "HTFU." There were a number of defections today. I will not call out the roll of the rollovers. Frankly, they were probably home in bed, Hoodie's pulled over their heads, Tye-dyeing some homemade skirts for their next outing.

No, we will focus on who was actually out there, braving the elements. There was me, of course. And Ullrich, who had initially rolled over, then caught a whiff of his own puissance, causing him to man up. And last in the Trio was Scheibs. The same Scheibs that was deep in the HCD doghouse (which smells remarkably like Yeti). That's right, the Scheibs traded in his Vadge Badge for some iron-nailed Blood of Merckx. 

Not many cyclists out there today, but the ones we saw were very convivial. It was a day for the Hardmen of the world to Unite, and pump the fist of Victory when another was spotted. Yes we got some rain. And yes we got a little snow. No biggie. The real teeth of the Beast was the sleet. For those at home, cuddled up with some hot cocoa and the Chihuahua in their lap, let me describe the feeling of descending into sleet at 30mph:

"OUCH!"

That's right. It hurts. Like little pieces of glass strafing your Marlboro Man toughness whilst you remain tucked, refusing to tap the brakes. After all, we Dominate the Downhill, regardless of the conditions. So we rode twice this weekend. Both days were for the polar bears, with or without their winter layers.No PR's recorded in the books. A recovery pace, Belgian style.

Postride Victory espresso at the French Bakery. That's right. I ordered a large. Pinkies up Ladies!

2 Flats, 2 Bikes, to the Beat of "2 turntables and a microphone"

Beck called it today.

Where its At! We got two flat tyres and Sean's alone! 
Where its At! I rode two different bikes and Ty ate a scone! 

Seemed like were were snake bit from the start.

First, Sean (who made his first HCD appearance in 2012), disappears right after we roll down Barton Creek. After the climb out, we stopped to wait for him. But he never materialized. Turns out the broken shoulder has given him the downhill yips. This is familiar to me. Hang in there Sean. While we were waiting, I realized that the di2 battery was low, leaving me only little ring in the front and the rear DR for another hundred or so shifts. Plus, I had some metal lodged in the back tyre. Sheesh.Hoodie audibled an adjusted dam loop, so we abandoned ship on the ride to Drip.

Hoofed it in the little ring back to the House. Hurried so as to minimize the group's wait. When we got back on the road, the crew was nowhere to be seen. Turns out Ty punctured. Bummah. They got back up to us a bit later, and we turned some clunky rotations around to the dam.

On the downhill, guess what? Ty disappears. Like a fighter platoon in the Bermuda Triangle, we had lost another one.So we hoofed it back up the dam hill to find Ty's flat #2, just as he was finishing his business. Double Bummah.

To make something meaningful out of the day, we detoured over to Jester. 3 of the guys (Ullrich, Ty and VJ) had yet to notch that stage for Inigo's Challenge, so Todd and I played cheerleader and waited for them at the bottom. Well done fellas.

Rest of the ride was pretty mellow, save for my self-inflicted thrashing up the hill to Bee Cave.RELEASE THE KRAKEN!!  Got me a 3rd overall, mostly due to the sweet tailwind. And the fact that I had skipped Jester. And the monster wattage. ....

Hurt Locker

We had a breakfast of pain this morning at PedalHard. For HCD members all in a row. And no one was talkin'....

Me and Ullrich on the speed work course, which consists of 2 x 8 sets of 30-45 second huge efforts, with two 4% climbs (3 minute effort) preceding each set. Both me and the German spelunked beyond the normal suffering depth, into that horror movie level.

Hoodie and Scheibs were on a climb course, 1 warmup bump, then 4x8 minute climbs at LT.

Not sure which hurt more, but I think I added a few more grey hairs to the collection.

It was awesome, by the way.