A Slow Start

But we're getting there. Official transition to new bloggery begins now:

http://fancyshpants.wordpress.com/2011/06/19/in-the-aeroplane-over-the-race/

The Death of a Blog

Yes, I reckon it's about time we put this blog to rest. Oh, it done served us well over the past few years, but clearly this site and format simply do not inspire much writing these days. And that is a sad thought, since so much changed just in the last 8 months. I moved out to the Left Coast, moved back to the Right Coast, and then moved again to the Left Coast, this time with some degree of permanence. But I see no reason to retell almost a year of tales here. No no, that simply would not be appropriate. Instead, we will toss the dirt over the coffin of this here deceased blog and put it to rest with all the other forgotten bastions of words circulating the interweb.

But fear not! I'm not quite done spilling my verbose ramblings across the face of this medium. I will be relocating my unvisited home on the web to a new, upgraded site of bloggery, which can be found at this weblocation:

http://fancyshpants.wordpress.com/

Yes, a new hosting site, a new layout, and a new motivation to actually produce things for the fickle audience of the internet. I'm still refining the look of the new site, but I'll begin posting things there within a day.

So from this site, I bid you adieu, but I hope to see you at the new home soon.

-fancyshpants.

Cyclocross National Championship Predictions

Elite Men
1. Powers (58:32)
2. Trebon
3. Johnson
4. Wells
5. Jones
6. Driscoll
7. Craig
8. Anthony
9. Schouten
10. Myerson

Elite Women
1. Compton
2. Gould
3. Dombroski
4. Miller
5. Bruno

U23 Men
1. McDonald
2. Summerhill
3. N Keough
4. L Keough
5. Dombroski 


Make your own predictions (and win some shwag) HERE.

The Game, as Life

Found this in the "draft" pile. It will have to operate as a substitute to actual posting for now... 

"But to say that the race is the metaphor for the life is to miss the point. The race is everything. It obliterates whatever isn't racing. Life is the metaphor for the race." 

-Donald Antrim

I find something very unsettling about this quote. It's not that I think Antrim went over-the-top with his assessment, or that the sentences prove irrelevant for our generation. Instead, the quote rattles my mind because it resonates with my ideals; I believe it whole-heartedly. Each time I read this quote, I immediately reprise my week at the Trans-Sylvania Epic and the ensuing lethargy of the week after. I feel like Tyler Durden after his first bout in Fight Club, desperately trying to recapture the magnificence of the experience when every element of the world seems muted and deflated in comparison.

And what competitor doesn't undergo this experience? It seems almost universal for those truly engaged in their activity. We seem to revere our activities with a level of grandeur that reaches religious sentiment, so much so that we can easily loose sight of the big picture. 

Even though I experience this degradation of importance in day-to-day routines after competition, I like to think I maintain a fair degree of balance. I know my paycheck does not depend on racing, and with that knowledge I am able to enjoy competition for the sake of competition rather than stressing over results (which may also be why I suck). 

In Defense of Page

[For sake of civility, I will declare an important truth about this post: it is NOT a comprehensive analysis of the situation, and the only expertise I claim is as a spectator and participant of the sport. Many stones may be left unturned, and many biases may be present. I am simply adding my viewpoint to the conversation of the greater cycling community. You are welcome to publicly disagree, but please do so in a manner appropriate for conversational arguments. This will be posted on both my personal blog and on my blog on CyclingDirt.org.]

This past weekend, the cyclocross community suffered the massive tremors (or really, minor rattles) caused by the tension between Jonathan Page and Tim Johnson during the USGP races in Madison. What went down out on the course is a truth molded by the story-teller of the moment. So far, velonews.com has the most balanced account of the transgressions, but the true controversy seems to be contained in the post-race interviews and comments from the riders and, perhaps more poignantly, the reactions of fans across the country.

Some commentators contest the methods used by the participants that seem to be liberal interpretations of the rulebooks. The contact between riders is not illegal (to my knowledge) but presents the ethical dilemma of determining what constitutes "fair play." The answer to this particular dilemma is one best left to the elites of the sport; my mid-pack B finish will not be severely affected by having an elbow thrown at me or my line cut-off in a corner (though it may result in a brief chuckle).

But the majority of the attention on this controversy is not directed towards the actions, but rather the reactions. Many believe that Page's post-race comments are little more than grandiose whining over being dominated by the Cannondale-Cyclocrossworld team members. Others are ready to swear off their personal support Planet Bike because they feel Page is a poor representative of the sport. In any case, Page's frustration with the racing tactics from the USGPs this past weekend resulted in, well, frustration towards Page.

I'll be honest, when I first saw Page interject into Tim Johnson's interview I was ready to lead the witch-hunt to decry his name as a pariah of the sport. But there was something unconscionable about that action. The truth is, despite the rhetoric about being a sore loser, Page's reaction to the race showed a very endearing quality. Page was invested in that race, and in the larger construct of the sport of cyclocross, in a way that I (and probably most sports fans) wished more athletes would emulate. In any competition, I don't want to see a group of dandy gentlemen scattering along a field holding conversations about who should lead into a corner. I want to see athletes who are willing to take the risks (within the rules!) to put themselves in contention for the win. I want to see the frustration, the anger, and the aggression that comes from feeling cheated out of a result. I want to see it, because it is the epitome of a purely human response we yearn for in our spectating.

It is easy for us to cry "villian!" from the safety of our homes, but in this case we are rejecting the essence of what drives us to watch a group of athletes ride around a field for an hour. The cathartic feeling of simply watching a leader come across the finish line after soloing to victory is not lost on us, the spectator, yet we are convinced the subsequent finishers be content and docile to their substandard placing no matter what occurred throughout the event. Sure, learning how to lose is an important quality, but it does not mean a rider has to be detached from his result. Let us not be fools to think that rivalry and competition is limited to the boundaries set by a clock.

Thus, I will continue to support Page in his endeavors, not because I want to revel in controversy, but because I know that in every emotional and frustrated interview is the potential for the exhilarated, magnificent pride that will come from the cherished win. And that, my friends, is what makes sport worth while and Page's actions forgivable.

The Trans-Sylvania Epic: Withdrawal Symptoms

[EDITOR'S NOTE: All pictures are copyright A.E.Landes Photography. Do yourself a favor and head on over to his web-location to view some of the best cycling photos, ever! He also does weddings, though we hope this will soon become his side job.]

Monday morning I awoke effortlessly at 6:30 AM. The time certainly wasn't my choice, but after a week of rushing out of bed to chow down on camp food, you begin to pick up a few habits.

Even a few days out from the event, I find myself wanting to play the role of Jack from Lost, frantically trying to convince everyone to return to the "island" of the Seven Mountains campgrounds. The Trans-Sylvania Epic was mountain biking in its purest form, and after a complete cycling immersion I find it more and more difficult to convince myself the real world day-to-day grind is sustainable. This race was the gateway drug to a dangerous [and arguably more expensive] addiction to stage racing, and proved to be a renewal of my love for the sport.

I will try not to dwell too much on the details of my racing, because for me this event was about more than results. It's not that I didn't care, it's just that by the time I started to find my legs it was too late to change the GC. I secured my second-to-last finishing place within the first three days, but whittled away the significant deficit between myself and the next higher rider by the end of the week [from over 2 hours to just under 25 mins].

For the short recap, the beginning of the week was marked by having zero power in my legs. In addition, I fought back severe cramping for the first few days, that is until Rachael Mirvish provided me with a weapons-grade electrolyte mix (as well as company during my darker days). By the end of the week, cramps had gone bye-bye and I was flying! In those seven days, I went from having the worst form ever on a bike [and swearing off riding forever!] to scaring myself with how well I was riding.

Some of the days were less enjoyable:

Sad Tim is sad.

Others were freakin' fast:

I think my mustache gives me lift.

And, though I failed to notice, some of the days were in black-and-white:

The riding was nothing short of amazing, but this was expected. The truly incredible aspect of the event was the organizational prowess of the Dynamic Duo of mid-Atlantic bike races, Ray Adams and Mike Kuhn. These guys toiled for hours each night to make sure the race went off without any major snafus, and their hard work paid off; everyone was ecstatic with the event, and no one died (double success!). 

As Zach Adams put it, the Trans-Sylvania Epic was a summer camp for big kids, with a bike problem, and maybe a drinking one, but mostly a bike problem. I can't wait for the next time I am able to keep Eagle lodge awake with late-night banjo tunes while happening upon a one-man rave. I could, however, do without the hundreds of bugs which kept me up at night, or the small mouse which ate my best Clif Bars, but these were minor incidents compared to the incredible atmosphere provided by some of the genuinely good and funny cohorts in this adventure (not you Evan Plews). Most of these people even have blogs, and are probably providing more interesting content than me, so go ahead and check them out.

Mike Wissell, who confused the Epic for a duathalon at times. 

Peter Keiller, leader of the Misfit Psycles.

Tanya Hanham, perhaps my favorite Canadian.

Rachael Mirvish, most smiley cyclist ever.

Mike Festa, the self-proclaimed "roadie P.O.S."

And, lest we forget, the already infamous Rich Dillen, who you can see in 3-D in this fine video:

Cycling Videos on CyclingDirt

As for me, I'll be looking forward to seeing all these fine faces next year, and for years to come.  Until then, I get to stare at my pretty little medal to remind me of the killer week spent at the TSE.

Trans-Sylvania Epic Preview

Cycling Videos on CyclingDirt


Before you complain about the shaky video, know that it was filmed one-handed while riding. Enjoy.