Hopping last night of winter at Casa de Evo

Tux and Kyson shared a moment..

Kyson posed like a pro.

He chatted with his uncle Garth who is in Cambodia.

Hottie surprised me with a schmacker.

RJ was just glad for a little break

I tried to talk, but Kyson just didn't want to hear it..

Back to it

Isn't this the coolest picture of the coolest Greyhound ever? He was sniffing snow and this is what it looks like.

As my loyal fan may have noted, there were no posts in February. Not a plan, it just kind of happened. I lived all 29 days.

My knee is coming along fine. I did some lunges on Monday and I went deep and bonked my Osgood-Schlatter on the carpet several times and thought nothing of it until the next evening when something went wrong and it hurt really bad. I've been nice to it and all seems swell.

Work has been crazy and I truly appreciate nice people. I work with some great people. I come home to a wonderful wife and loyal pup. Life is pretty fun.

Kyson and Tux are absolutely fascinated by each other.

We have enjoyed visits from Si as well as RJ, Kyson, Sophie and Katie. I visited Kansas and Montreal in February. Hottie is S L O W L Y recovering from her surgery and is understandably frustrated.

On a personal note; although I wasn't out of commission very long, I have so appreciated being able to ride again. The morning of my first post-surgery commute it was dumping rain. I woke up (thanks to my alarm set for 5:30 AM) and could hear the rain running down the downspout. My first thought was, "I get to ride today," I put on my rain stuff and went out the door and smiled all the way to work.

I commuted today and riding with a little light makes a big difference. I'm starting to think we are about to finish this winter thing and get started on spring pretty soon.

Douze SCX #4 2011 Race Report

A Mud Sandwich

Steve 22nd, Evo 12th, Dave F 14th in the slow old guy category

Mud was promised and mud delivered. A slippery run up, lots of greasy corners. Strength sapping soggy grass. It was all there.

My treat was that my daughter and Kyson came to watch along with Hottie and my mum. I had fans galore. It was Kyson's first cross event and he was initiated in soggy Northwest style.

Grandpa is number......one

It was a tough course. Grassy, but really wet turns to start. Then onto a muddy bog which could be ridden, but running was faster. Either way you then hit a run up where I went from tenth to third on the first lap. I do like the run ups.

Then a short grassy section leading to single track that was a muddy rut-fest. If you kept your mo(mentum), you could ride it. Then a slick downhill that was a matter of getting comfortable not being in total control. Then, just as you exhale thinking you are out of it, you round a tree and hit s short steep, and loose, uphill followed by a long steady climb that was just like putting your legs in a vice and letting it hurt you. The climb was there to suck whatever life was left in you...out of you.

When I turned at the top and saw my chasers climbing, I tried to look relaxed like I was in control. I was in fact thinking my heart was about to blow out of my chest. You had to really concentrate as there was a Z turn with a padded post as the penalty for not making the final turn.

Then we had to go around a baseball field and the terrain past the outfield was a swamp. It could be ridden, but I was passing guys when I ran, so I ran it each time. I pushed hard and threw my bike down and started pedaling.

But wait, there was more.

You spilled onto a short cement section, and then you power into a long off camber where you try not to lose altitude. Then a slight climb, and more mud and grass turns. A couple barriers to remind you this isn't hell, it is Cyclocross baby. More technical turns were followed by a long grassy straight, and then through a barn (which is always fun) and finally loose gravel spills onto grass, and you make the corner and then pass the finish line and do it all again....

You almost recover on the grass when you hit the mud, and the run up and then you are once again getting cross eyed.

I was hanging about tenth and saw my nemesis, Spinner John not far behind. He make a lot of noise when he races. So much noise in fact, that after this race I considered changing his moniker to Grunting John. I could hear him struggling behind me and I kept pushing. On the long suffering uphill I noted my gap to he and Dave F. I pushed the second lap. On the third lap I was toast and made some tactical mistakes. A wrong line here and there and I was losing time.

I fought my way up the run up and tried to clear my head and ride smarter. I still had a gap on the suffering uphill, but I couldn't let up or I would get eaten up. I was still struggling and when I hit the swamp by the baseball field, I ran like my High School Cross Country Coach, Coach Berk was telling me to run harder.

On the grass I knew my heart rate was maxed and I tried to keep from exploding. The barriers were okay, but I was caught by a guy in the soggy grass approaching the barn. I looked behind and knew nobody else (Spinner John) was going to catch me. I tried to hold this guys wheel, but he got a gap.

I closed a little at the barn and as we approached the final turn I was gaining fast. I tried to go around him on the right and he swung right, I cut left, and the bastard started to go left. I dug deep but lost it by a wheel at the line. A post race check of the Garmin would revel two things, my heart rate was maxed plus three, and I was going 24+mph at the line. We had to clamp down hard on our brakes to keep from crashing as the course turned not far past the finish line.

I was twelfth on the day and Spinner John came in a distant thirteenth and Dave F fourteenth.

It took a good while to catch my breath.

Kyson enjoyed himself. As did his mama. I am pretty darn lucky as most guys in my age group don't have any fans and I almost always have Hottie cheering (and taking photos). This season my mum has made the almost weekly pilgrimage to witness the spectacle of Northwest Cyclocross.

If you can't do the math, my girlfriend can

In 2011, Hottie and I have had a couple of interesting comments from people we know regarding our relationship. I am assuming it is just a coincidence but they both came at our local YMCA where we work out.

For those of you who imagine the YMCA as a gross place akin to your middle school gymnasium with the smell of mildew, you are so wrong. The Y here is Shoreline is clean, well equipped and staffed by energetic individuals who offer kind words at insanely early morning hours. While I am a fan, and I might break out in song about the "Y" I am not about to dress up AND sing like others have done..

Remember how shocked you were when you found out the Village People weren't straight ?

Looking at the picture now, I can see how easily we were confused....

Anyway the first comment was a couple months ago when the woman who works at the front desk told me my "Girlfriend" had said something funny when she left the gym a few minutes before me. I guess that since Hottie's last name is different than mine, she figured we were not married.

Oh well, maybe I'll grow a mustache and go for the total look..

Sleezy, yet cool in a kind of Zabriskie kind of way

Then today one of the instructors was talking with Hottie before spin class and made the correct assumption that I had been married before Hottie because he had seen photos of our grandson and looking at Hottie he said, "I can do the math."

So now I'm a cradle robber.

If money can't buy you love, why is he smiling?

Kyson putting the FU in FUN !

Kyson sucks his middle finger. Talk about endless photo opportunities..

I was updating my travel profile for work and one of the questions was when my drivers license expires. I didn't know so I pulled it out and checked. It expired three months ago. I looked at it for a minute as my brain filter kept trying to say, "no way," and my eyes kept saying, "way." Before anyone accuses me of a senior moment, I'll step up and take credit for just being dumb.

Hottie and I watched Kyson for a few hours Saturday. This Grandpa gig is cool.

Ride Evo, Ride

I'm going to put my finger in my mouth and blow until my hair stands straight up.

Hottie and I had been debating for a couple of days where to ride on Saturday morning. When the day dawned as promising as we had wished it would, Hottie felt emboldened and suggested we take off from our driveway and go around Lake Washington. That would be 56 miles and a 2,500’ of climbing. We rolled out and the warm sun felt good on my bare arms. After an endless winter of full fingered gloves; my fingertips almost caressed the bar tape as I rode.

Construction on the Burke Gilman trail made our ride an "adventure."

Hottie climbed with ease and soon we were in Kirkland where people on wide surfboards were sweeping the lake.

We rolled through downtown Bellevue on our journey.

Hey, is that Rainier in the distance ?

We stopped and ate bars and topped off our bottles.

With forty miles behind us, we stopped for a treat before the final climb up from the lake.

Hottie was tired afterwards, but not debilitated. She is well on her way to a great summer of riding.

Sunday dawned grey and cooler and I did the usual morning ride with my team. Initially I felt no after effects from the four hours in the saddle the day before, but on the later part of the ride my legs told me it would be really smart to just back off a bit. Sensing that my legs would win any ensuing argument, I relented and backed off. Dave F was happy to join me, and we had ourselves a small groupetto.

An afternoon visit by my daughter and our grandbaby, my mom, and Hottie's sister, rounded out the day.

My mum and Kyson (Kyson is on the right)

A little birthday celebration for Hottie's sister

Last week, Hank had proposed a RAMROD training ride for the 4^th and it seemed like a great idea.

My alarm went off at a reasonable hour and I had plenty of time to fumble with my bike stuff and not be rushed. The roads were deserted as I made my way to Hank’s place. We loaded up his van and in no time we were through Enumclaw and on the way to the Crystal Mountain turn off. We were in a line of seven or eight cars and they all turned off highway 410 toward Crystal to squeeze in some late season skiing. This seemed to indicate we would have light traffic as we rode up 410.

Two guys who should know better...

Soon we were underway and we were in the shade riding on the western side of a long, high ridge. Although the climb was steady the cool air kept our temperature down. Views of Mt. Rainier to our right got better with each mile. I watched my Garmin tick off the elevation and in little time we were turning at Cayuse and heading up to Chinook. We had passed some riders on the way up who were going really, really slow.

The short section from Cayuse to Chinook had snow piled up on both sides of the road, and the retaining walls were made of granite blocks the size of microwave ovens. The sky was a deep blue and the bright sunshine made the snow look like it had just fallen. The whole scene had a Disney castle feel to it.

Evo is going to Mt. Rainier..

The snow was thiiiiis deep....

Riding in the sunshine we could peel off arm warmers and bask in the beautiful views in every direction. The air was clean and crisp, so we were neither hot nor cold.

The grade was steady, but our enthusiasm kept our legs spinning as we took in the setting.

Does this snow make me look fat ?

We stopped near the top and snapped some pictures and soon we donned our arm warmers and began the rapid descent back to the Sunrise turn off.

Organic bike racks !!

The twelve miles of climbing had gotten us used to a slower cadence and the eight mile descent gave us a chance to spin out our legs.

After passing the toll booth, we began the gradual climb from 3,100’. With little perceived effort I noticed the terrain dropping off to our right and our views to the valley floor just got better and better. At first the valley was a hundred feet below, and then it was a thousand feet as the road bobbed back and forth. The sunshine felt good and I unzipped my jersey to keep cool. The grade lessened and I picked up my pace. I was in a rhythm and not suffering at all. My legs could feel the miles and elevation of the long weekend, so I wasn’t about to sprint out of the saddle, but I felt surprisingly strong. The road has three major switchbacks with the last one being at 6,100’, only 300 feet below the parking lot at Sunrise. There is a turnout with a viewpoint at this final switchback and it was populated with people snapping pictures of the view we had been enjoying for a couple miles. From this point we had 360 degree views and we paused to take it all in.

The final mile or two was a victory lap and we enjoyed it as we began licking our lips thinking about getting some real food.

We made it !

We each had a deli sandwich and cold drink. It felt good to relax. We had almost twenty miles to go back to the car, but the fact that the car was 3,800 feet lower than where we were sitting meant the trip down would be an easy roll.

Dressed for the descent...

We put on all the clothing we had and braced for a chilly descent. The road surface was rough with chip seal, but there were few potholes or other potentially catastrophic impediments. We were soon leapfrogging each other. We saw a handful of riders struggling to climb uphill as we flew down at thirty-five miles an hour. When we saw a bear on the side of the road we grabbed a handful of brake and I captured it in digital format.

That is a bear !

We continued to slalom the turns, only occasionally braking, and whooping as we went. After finally reaching the valley floor we enjoyed the short climb back to highway 410 as it warmed us up. Four more quick miles and we sprinted (at least what we old men will call a sprint) for the park boundary of a huge log across the road. I came around Hank and he sped up. Neither of us could be sure who won, but it was probably better that way.

After toweling off and changing it was time to head back home.

A cooked Hank..

Happy Monday

I'm the king of the world !!
When Monday arrives and I find myself mentally refreshed and physically exhausted, it has been an ideal weekend. This was one of those Mondays. On Saturday Hottie and I got our glasses adjusted. What a difference. I still consider myself a rookie in the glasses world, and I was stunned how much better everything worked. Yep, I’m getting old. Live and learn as they say.

RJ visited and brought Kyson. He just gets cuter every day. He is more alert and responsive; which is a thrill. The poor fella just goes back and forth between my arms and Hottie’s. He didn’t seem to mind too much. What a sport!

As irony finds me wherever I go, the Sunday morning ride was dry and eventually sunny. So it came as quite the surprise that we only had three souls roll out. Dave F took the shortcut back so only two of us finished the full ride. The bonus was the other rider was Marc who moved to New Hampshire last fall, but was back in Seattle on business. He was a member of our Peloton of Discovery last summer and it was truly great to see him again.

When I tried to work my recent Ronde van Palouse into the conversation, Marc commented he had just competed in the Tour of the Battenkill. That race touts itself as America’s Queen of the classics. He might as well have said he just finished Paris-Roubaix. I was unworthy!! We shared some war stories as the miles rolled past.

I also got a chance to use my birthday gift. Hottie consulted some knowledgeable and opinionated members of my team, and based on their recommendation, she was able to get me a Garmin bike computer at a ridiculous price. I am almost intimidated at the data which is now at hand. I suffer from an inner battle as my romantic view of things says, “Just ride,” while my OCD side wants to know how the grade and pace altered my heart rate. It will be interesting to see how this plays out in the coming months.

Hottie and I caught a matinee and then it was time for yard work.

Short grass makes for a fast racing circuit..
I cut the grass for the first time all year. It was an ordeal. With little sun in the winter the grass in the Pacific Northwest hibernates and doesn’t grow much from November till spring. In the summer you have to cut it twice a week, but this isn’t yet summer. The depth of the “field” choked our mower, which was hoping for a few easy pre-season workouts before tackling the green monster. Inside the washer and dryer were likewise gainfully employed.

As the sun went down, I ironed shirts while we watched sports on TV. I baked and then froze some blueberry almond scones for the week and we still had some of the bread that was baked Saturday morning. We set alarms for five fifteen so we could make it to Monday’s spin class and called it a weekend.

Listen young stunners

Listen young stunners;
wintertime is over.
-Head Like A Kite
Spring has sprung!

Yesterday Hottie and I put in nearly forty hilly miles around the north end of Lake Washington. I commented to Hottie that I had forgotten about my riding companion. When she looked confused, I informed her that I meant that dark silhouette on the ground that looks like a stretched version of me. I couldn’t remember when last I had seen my shadow while riding. The warmth of sunshine on my black clothing was wonderful.

This weekend was the first time this year I spotted people riding who were seriously underdressed. We saw guys with bright red legs wearing shorts and short-sleeved jerseys. We still saw the crowd of bundled riders on the trail. So far in 2011 the riders on the road were generally serious and prepared accordingly.

Hottie and I didn’t drink enough so the ride took more out of us than it should have. We indulged in a couple of Kidd Valley burgers post ride. While I love my vegetarian brothers and sisters, every now and then a burger just tastes so right that I feel like singing. Lucky for everyone who isn’t me, I didn’t.

Tux got a chance to get out and stretch his legs before we rode so he would be a little tired while we were out. He pulled the covers down on our bed so he could lay his furry rump on our sheets. In that blissful state, he snoozed the hours away.

Today I went for my usual team ride and that was fun. I pushed a couple hills and got comments on my strength. I am planning a race next weekend. Stay tuned !! Near the end of the ride John had some wheel wobble and later found out he had a spoke nipple pull out and it cracked his rear rim. John is a beast who can, and does, destroy bike equipment at will.

I love a good omen and after playing HLAK’s “Listen young Stunners” on the way to the hill for the ride. After coffee on our way back we passed Dave (The HLAK Man) and he wished us well.

I am ready for winter to be over. Bring on the warmth.

An afternoon visit from my daughter, her husband and the superstar..
Speaking of warmth. Here is a bonus shot of Kyson:

I hope I am not cheapening my blog using photos of dogs and babies..

I guess I knew this was the plan.

You will have to fight me for these photos.

Like it or not, I passed along the wanderlust gene to my children. My oldest son has lived abroad off and on for the past several years. Every time he left, I took consolation that he would return in a known amount of time.

He got married last summer, and he and his bride are headed off to start a new job in Russia. He speaks fluent Russian and Arabic. He will be working at the US embassy and has a two-year assignment. If he knows more he either isn’t supposed to tell me, or he just decided not to.

After that who knows what or where he will be.

I hugged he and his wife goodbye today and as they walked away, the images you see at the top of this post are what filled my head.

My second son is still in Alaska on a search of his own. I have similar images of his childhood as I check the weather reports for Kodiak Island.

The grandpa thing is super cool, but that is really a part time gig. Ironic that the culmination of being a dad is letting them go. Hottie and I miss them already.

Mason Lake Road Race 2011 Race Report

One cooked Evo.. If you look closely, you can see the crane is holding me up.
The plan had been to ride the Frostbite TT last week and race Mason Lake next weekend. Snow a week ago cancelled the TT, and the miracle we call sunshine made racing today an attractive option. John and Matthew were planning on racing this one as well, so I decided to pin on a number and mix it up.

Last Cyclocross season I tested some carbon wheels for a friend and when he gave them to me there were some road tires on them that I pulled off and hung in the garage. A week ago, I took those old tires and glued them back on the same wheels and I had a set of road tubies and 50mm carbon rims. I pulled the pads off my cross bike and I was set.

I decided to race on my blue Curtlo and I stripped off the lights, saddlebag etc. and it sure looked fast. I put in a good week of training and things seemed to be coming together.

The alarm went off at a horrible time and Hottie, Tux and I were on the road just past six thirty. Tux, once again proving himself to be the wondpup settled down and wasn’t a problem the whole day.

Tux and Sophie
I will paraphrase the directions to the race:
Drive to Tacoma, turn right, follow the road until you reach somewhere, and then turn left. Follow the road until you arrive at nowhere and take a right. After going four miles past anything at all, take a left and ascend the hill and follow the road until you see the sign for the bike race.

It would be presumptuous of me to say that the locals probably give directions that contained phrases like, “when you get to the holler, you done gone too far.” I will, however, say that this was a remote location.

I signed the waiver, showed my license and chewed my Nutella slathered bagel and made my way back to the car. The morning was cold, but the pave was dry. I looked around and just like most races I ride, there were some guys that looked fast. Unlike most races I ride, they all looked fast.

We rolled out and the yellow line rule, combined with the narrow road and sandy micro-shoulder, made picking a good line critical. Five minutes into the race the first breakaway took off. Three guys got fifty yards and my teammate John, chased them down. Our peloton was tight and I was near the back, but I stayed attentive.

For me road racing is managing a series of opposites. Try to go fast, but try to conserve energy. Constantly be attentive, but try to relax. Don’t take your hand off the bars, but eat and drink as needed. Be nice to your fellow riders, but watch out for yourself.

I watched one breakaway after another go and get reeled in. I grimaced as my teammate John did as much work as everyone else put together in bringing back the attacks. Although he is an absolute beast of a rider, he got the George Bailey award for doing the most selfless work.

The race was four laps of a twelve mile circuit around a lake. I started with two bottles of energy drink and a refillable tube of gel. I consumed everything pretty much as I should have. To my amazement, I was still in the pack at the start of the last lap. After a few twitchy breakaway attempts on the final lap, the pace ticked up and our peloton went from short and fat to long and skinny. Since I was still in the mix, I decided to try and move up to help my teammate John. After we made a sharp turn I knew we had about six miles to go, I battled hard and jumped into every opening. There was bumping going on and I realized my hards were tired from gripping the bars too tight.

With less than three to go we came upon some riders who had been dropped by their race in front of us. They were spent and almost wobbly as as approached. As our fast group passed these riders it disrupted the peloton formation. I took the opportunities that came along to move up and found myself in the top twelve. We passed the one-kilometer to go sign, and after a short, steep and loose downhill I was still up there. John was on the far left and I was stuck on the far right. I saw an opening and took it. I pushed to get in front of a rider and when I did I found myself in front of everybody. I powered through the next corner and saw the 200 meters to go sign about fifty meters ahead. I wondered why these guys weren’t blowing past me. I kept going and saw Tom Wick, a race official who rides with us on Sunday mornings, standing at the 200m sign. His jaw dropped as I passed him. He did not expect to see me. Heck, I didn't expect to see me. While I know 200 meters is about 200 meters in length, it looked like a mile. The people looked lat the finish line ike ants in the distance.

While this isn't Tom, but is in fact Kyson, the expression is the same
I tried to ramp up the power and it was like I was flooring a ’66 Volkswagen, there simply was no power. It took all I had to keep upright and rolling. I crossed the line and looked at the heart rate monitor I had strapped to my handlebar. 186 beats per minute is a record for me.

I finished 23rd in the bunch sprint. John took 12th. We averaged 22.5 miles an hour and I was as happy as I could be with the result. I felt like a bike racer. I don’t know that I have ever felt that before. I usually feel like a bike rider who is dressed up in a bike racer's clothes.

I am reminded of what my good friend Kevin told me. A little success can be the worst thing; you try and build on it and you blow up. If this turns out to be the highlight of my limited road racing career; that is okay. Today I was a bike racer.

Today, like everyday since January, I was also a grandfather. My daughter and her family live about an hour north of nowhere. We had to visit..