With that, it's autumn

Fed up with our respective performances at Jackson Park, Naz and I have been going out bright and early during the week for interval efforts and sprints out on Northerly Island. I love early morning riding – with the rise of the sun, I'm getting a workout in and setting a good tone for the rest of the day. I beat the heat during the summer and a crowded LFP, which during the height of the season, fills up full by 8:30 AM.

This morning, I was out on the bike by 6:55 with Naz, passing Mike as he was coming back in after his workout, and the sun was just starting to peek above the horizon on Lake Michigan. And for the first time since about April, I was cold. Kneewarmers and armwarmers were on, but I felt chilly. And it felt great. I love this time of the year, when the air is crisper and smells of fallen leaves and smoke. Well, here in Chicago it smells of rancid chocolate, hot dogs and smog, but elsewhere, it smells of a sweet tang as people burn their leaves. And just two weeks ago it was 90 and humid – now I'm wearing a sweater, feeling a bit of unease as I realize that snow and cold is only a few short months away.

Until then, I'm out riding and trying to bring together some late season fitness so I can finish a 'cross race or two somewhere in the top 10.

My Bloody Bad Seed

The past five years, my weekend priorities have gradually shifted from late-night carousing with friends watching live bands, usually lousy punk rock, and swilling cheap beers. Sunday morning was recovery time and spent on the couch, digesting a lousy breakfast and contemplating a day that wouldn't get going until well after noon.

Then I got into the bike thing and my weekends were upandatem mornings, where I was out riding by 7:00 at the latest, doing 50, 60, 80 miles, or whatever. I have different priorities now than then, and to be perfectly honest and clear, I much prefer the way I feel after a weekend now, with tired legs and a sort of mental clarity than before, where I struggled to return to a semblance of normality after blasting my eardrums at a concert and blasting my stomach on Skyline cheese coneys at 3 AM.

But this past weekend was something of a return to those days, albeit on my own terms and in adherence to the New Me. Two of my absolute favorite bands/musicians came rolling into town for two rare concerts: My Bloody Valentine on Saturday, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds on Sunday. I saw Spiritualized two weeks ago, Wire's coming up, so I've almost satisfied seeing the entirety of my absolute-favorites live, seeing as how Black Flag ain't never getting back together in any semblance of the original band, and XTC is a studio trick today, only.

One of my better friends from back home in Cincinnati, Michael Coates, came up for the MBV show. He, just as much as I, love droney, noisy, experimental stuff that substitutes static and din for melody. Not saying MBV's a sheer noise act, because within the gauzy fuzz there are details, scripts, and beauty, but to take the whole package in on a cursory level, the first thing one'll notice is the diaphanous quality to the music. Coates' likes Mogwai, Godspeed! You Black Emperor, Ride, and other shoegazey, orchestral acts and so do I. That's not the reason why we're friends, but at least I know with him that if I'm forced into his car for a drive, the music will always be within my favor.

Before the show, we went walking around Lincoln Park, just to kill some time and stretch the legs in anticipation of standing around for a long time without moving from a five-foot circle. We got dinner at http://www.yelp.com/biz/hai-yen-restaurant-chicago on Argyle in Little Vietnam and stuffed ourselves superbly for an altogether decent price. We shared shrimp spring rolls, some kind of crepe; chicken coconut curry for him, and an eggy, shrimpy noodly thing made up our main courses.

A short walk and we were at the Aragon, passing all the smokers gathered outside taking in their last drags before admitting themselves. We would have been out with them a few short years ago, but that habit got kicked roundly out of the rotation with the help of the bike thing.

We stood through the opening band, and right at 9:10, MBV took the stage and tore into their set, starting with "I Only Said". The light show was painful, just as the volume of the music itself. Earplugs were gratis and were gratefully accepted. With eyes closed, the combined effect of the flickering strobes and thick, noise made for a certain sensory experience that I have never really felt before. The comparison that I want to make is "womblike", which is not entirely apt, but that's what comes to mind and is probably the most accurate descriptor.

The setlist wandered back and forth between songs from "Loveless", "Isn't Anything" and the "You Made Me Realise" EP, and since those albums are all that I have by the band, and the ones most familiar to most MBV fans (albeit not completists), it was an experience full of familiarity, but yet, so new. "You Made Me Realise" finished the set with 21 minutes of sheer, visceral noise and flashing lights. A guy in front of me started a freakout-dance and I had to push him away. He was onto something, caught up in the power of dozens of high-output speakers cranked to the point of break-up.

Yesterday was a change of pace. Allison and I had tickets to the Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds show at the Riviera Theatre. The Black Diamond Heavies opened things up – I remember being at one of their shows at the Comet about a year or two ago and I didn't go in to see them, opting to hang out on the sidewalk. I missed out. These two guys, one on drums, the other on keyboards, are absolute pounders, kicking out bluesy pounders steeped in gospel, '70s hard rock (Humble Pie, Small Faces, and some Bob Segar?), and of course the garage-punk kick.

After the BDH set, and a short introduction consisting of a reading of a poem titled "Nick Cave", the man himself and his band assumed the stage. I own a number of Nick Cave's concert videos and onstage the dynamic of the band is unlike most - Cave and violinist/guitarist Warren Ellis are hyperkinetic, the rest of the band stays in one place, hardly moving to the beat. To that, it's a perfect pairing – foils and foundation to the seemingly stumbling and aggressive movements of Cave and Ellis.

Unfortunately, I've not yet had a chance to get acquainted with NV&TBS's "Dig! Lazarus! Dig!", so some of the newest songs were not yet familiar. But, with a repertory as large as Cave's, it wasn't long before the hits starting coming in off of the stage. "The Weeping Song" amazed; "Red Right Hand" and "Tupelo" showcased Cave's creep side, which I find so much more interesting than his romantic aspect.

I made no attempt to write the setlist down, but I do know that he closed with "Stagger Lee", which like MBV's "You Made Me Realise" a certain tradition, crowdpleaser, and trademark. Amazing.

Hardcore

Gotta say, having friends such as Ben Popper, who absolutely tore the CrossVegas race up on Wednesday, simply makes me happy. Back in the spring, I was dropping him on nearly every climb – now he's so goddamn fast that he makes me look like I'm standing still when I'm putting in a sprint.

At least seeing him race against the likes of Ryan Trebon, Barry Wicks, Jonathan Page, and yes, Lance Armstrong, is inspiration enough for me to put in another interval effort, not have that second helping of ice cream, and squeeze that workout in before the sun rises. I know full well that I'll never line up and do well in a UCI Pro-Am CX race, but I do know that I could make it to Cat. 2 if I try really, really hard. And I know hard work is what this sport requires. All summer long, Ben was out from 4:50 AM to 6:30 AM training, then running home to shower, eat and get on the train to his job in the suburbs. Me? The guy who was freelancing and had all the time in the world? Well, I would train, but I wasn't training hard. I was lazy. And now it's fall and Ben's racing with the world's best and I'm midpack with the local Cat. 3s.

Next year, though, next year. However, I'm making this year count – I'm feeling better about things and I'm going to be realistic. I have my goals, however lofty, but I know that sometimes I just gotta do the best I can and be satisfied with 14th place and a bloody knee.

Starcrossed

Starcrossed Cyclocross 2008 from bce on Vimeo.

Amazing video from a race that I hope to do sometime. From Race.CX.

CCC #1: Jackson Park

Had a good start, was well warmed-up, in a good position, with a great kick. And then things went downhill.

First trouble spot: I botched a remount on the second lap and ended up with another rider's crankset stuck in my front wheel. Sorry about that. Lost a bunch of places there.

Second trouble spot: I felt slower and slower with each lap. I was putting out good power, my heart rate was plugging along at a gawdawful 180-185 BPM, but I just couldn't get the bike to go. I was getting passed by riders I'd passed earlier in the race and I felt like I was going to explode. One lap to go, Mike and the rest of the leaders passed me and then my race was done. I was lapped. I've never been lapped.

Pulled in and went for a walk stewing in my own juices. After a few minutes of fuming, I walked back to the team tent, got something to eat and decided that it'd be more worthwhile to have fun than get all bent out of shape about a bike race.

Still sweaty from exertion, I rode over to the lake to get water from the fountains. My bike still felt slow, even on the paved path. At the fountain, I looked at my rear brakes and noticed that the spring that keeps the driveside brake in tension had popped out of its proper position, thus allowing it to slam up against the rim. I looked a bit closer and saw that part of the spring was cracked. Could this be why I couldn't get the bike to pop? Why I felt like I was riding in mud when I was on pavement? I put the spring back where it belonged, rode around and all was well. Slammed on the brake and the spring popped back out. So, looks like I need new brakes then. Pauls, maybe?

Still, excuses aside, I could've put in a better effort. My transitions sucked. My remounts sucked. I handled the tricky corners well, but I could've pushed things harder in cornering and made up more distance.

Next race won't be a DNF, that's for sure.

Hell, maybe in a few races I could be persuaded to do the 3 and then double-up and do the 1/2/3 so that I could be absolutely humiliated by people actually good at this bike racing thing. Whatever, I'm always into a good humbling and right now, humble is what I am.

Tomorrow

Jackson Park tomorrow. Here's hoping that I don't stack it on the first lap or end up with a case of the pukes.

The weather calls for 78-75 temps and sunny skies. Like last week, I was hoping for some mud and gruel. I know I'll get my wish soon, but dammit, I want my misery now.

The thing is, is that I know the period key works because it was used to type out the company URL. Not so sure about the shift and caps lock keys.

OVCX#1 Riverview Park, Loveland, Ohio

Oh, god, I need not ever again eat half a Dewey's pizza and a serving of Graeter's raspberry chocolate chip the night before a race. Those things are wonderful most times, hell, all times, even, but let yesterday's performance in the first race of the 2008 Ohio Valley Cyclocross Series at Riverside Park in Loveland, Ohio be fair notice that gorging on said items won't lead to a podium finish, but rather, a final result somewhere in the teens to twenties, with the hot shivers, an ashen pallor, and a bit of bitter disappointment.

I came down to Cincinnati on Friday night with Allison after she got done with school. She wanted to work on some photographs at her parents' house; I wanted to race my bike. So I pre-registered for the Cat. 3s, got the rig together and we got in late after a pleasant drive through Indiana. The ragged remnants of Ike suggested that the weekend would be a sodden mess – I'd come down prepared with arm warmers, knee warmers, my fleece jacket and wool socks. Little did I know that by Saturday night, the forecast was tipped-over and reversed: Sunday was calling for highs in the 80s and wind. At least I had my sunscreen.

An easy ride on Saturday morning went disastrously: I was about to bomb the short, steep descent down Eagle Creek, when my rear tire blew out. The bead to the three year old Ritchey Speedmax had finally decided that it no longer wanted to stay in good repair, so it went to tire heaven at one of the more inopportune times. At least it was the day before the race, on a slight ascent rather than at 40 MPH, and on a day that a bike shop was open. Tried to do a field repair using some duct tape and patches, but no luck. A quick call and the SAG wagon was on its way, i.e. my mom had to come and bail me out. While waiting I was called "Lance" once and had offers of help from three cyclists. Funny to see so many riders in the Westside, when a few years ago I could go weeks without seeing any other riders.

Later on, took a trip to Campus Cyclery, my old team shop, and hung out for a while. Got a killer deal on a complete set of Vredestein Campos – $60 for 'em, plus new tubes. Arranged a ride with Michael Chewning and a bunch of other guys from Campus the next morning at 8:30 in Clifton. After checking out a bike polo match, I had the aforementioned dinner at Dewey's with Kenny Roa, Shorty, and his girlfriend Vivian. And after eating ice cream, I got myself home by 10:00, and in bed by 10:45 with an aching stomache.

Woke up at 7:00, showered, had some coffee and tried to eat something, anything to get the blood sugar up and myself ready. Got a banana down, but the pizza had hardly budged from the night before. Loaded up and got on the bike to ride to Clifton. The legs felt decent, especially the climb up Straight, which is a bit of a kicker and nearly impossible to ride easy. On the way to the race, I had some more coffee and a bowl of oatmeal from Starbucks which didn't seem to help things in the gut. Since I'm the Oatmeal King, I had to have some or risk completely psyching myself out.


From here.

We all got to the racecourse nice and early, giving us lots of time to do practice laps, hang out, and for me, catch up with some old friends. As for the course, well, it was reminiscent of the course last time I rode it back in 2005, when I came in 2nd in the Ohio State Championship. The course started off on a slight uphill, jogging to the right, then hairpinning to the first set of barriers. Down a short straight, then hooking left and then right through some trees and over a protruding manhole. A short pavement section sweetly promised a chance to recover, but due to a terrible headwind, this wasn't so likely. After the paved section, a couple of hairpins through a stand of short pines, and then back onto a paved driveway to the far SE side of the course. Over some gravel and up a short ascent was the runup – it was rideable if you were strong, but having done the same runup before, I knew I'd be off the bike through that portion. Descending down back into the course, there were several more hairpins, including some wicked off-camber corners. After that mess, it was back through another set of barriers, a badly rutted section and some more hairpins. The course was technical, slow-going in spots, and just a good shock to the system after a year spent screwing around on a road bike, going mostly in a straight line.

Dave "Auk" Aukerman showed up after a little while and we got to talking about the course – both of us agreeing that it was going to be a bit of a soulcrusher. Watched Brent, Tim and a few other Campus guys absolutely crush the Cat. 4 race and then warmed-up again with Kerry. Got a Hammer Goo down the hatch, drank some water and psyched myself up. I was positioned next to Auk, in the second row back; not quite the ideal place to be, but I was late to the start and I'm not one to bully my way to the front of the line, preferring instead to pick 'em off one by one in the ensuing laps.

At the start, 45 seconds, 30 seconds, 15 seconds...heart rate at 120, sweat on the brow. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...and off I puttered, like I was going off from a traffic light on a recovery ride, as opposed to sprinting off the line in a CX race. My heart rate shot to 185 BPM and stayed there. My dinner from the night before lurched menacingly and eventually settled down as I got into some semblance of a groove.

For the next seven laps and 47 minutes, I was in my own personal bit of hell. The wind had picked up enough that barrier tape, signage, and tree branches were all coming down, and all the recovery points I'd plotted earlier in my preliminary laps were rendered useless by the weather. All I could hope for was to stay in the race, pass a few riders and avoid being lapped, with a good finish just whipped cream on the pie. I passed more than a few riders and not a single rider came around me again, so on those accounts the race was a success. But during the exercise, all I could do was hang on for dear life, stare at Auk's rear wheel and butt and hope that I didn't pass out from sheer exhaustion.

I was most challenged by the run-up – with each lap, I was getting off my bike lower and lower on the hill. The first time up, I made it nearly to the top before I lost traction and had to unclip to run; the second time I made it halfway; the third, about a quarter. Each lap after that went from running, to jogging, to walking, to near crawling. Misery quantified is about 35 degrees, 30-40 feet long and slick with dog doo and grass worn by foot and tire.

As for how I did? Well, the results aren't even up yet. As I find 'em, I post 'em. I'd guess I got 20 out of 30. Maybe I'm optimistic? I know I didn't do as well as some of my friends did, but no matter, they have hills to train on. There, that's my excuse – hills – something just about out of my control.


(45+1 lap of hell, graphed. I'd include the power data, but I was losing the signal due to a badly placed transmitter and I want to save a semblance of face.)

This weekend is Jackson Park, part of the Chicago 'Cross Cup and I'm looking forward to a grassy crit.

Electric Mainline

From here, among other great shots.

Monday night, with sodden feet earned from wandering around downtown Chicago with Kenny Roa and Kevin Warwick, I saw Spiritualized play a brilliant and incendiary set at the Metro in Wrigleyville. First saw Jason Pierce and etc. five years ago on the "Amazing Grace" tour and pined for their return ever since. Almost never got a chance, due to Pierce's coming down with a nasty case of double pneumonia and nearly dying.

But I nearly almost didn't go, just because I didn't want to fork over the $20 for a ticket. Yeah, I know...$20 is pretty much a drop in the bucket, but I've been hemorrhaging cash lately and discretionary spending is down.

Glad I decided to pinch the pennies and go, because the show was an absolute kicker. The show five years ago was better, only because the setlist then was based more around "Lazer Guided Melodies" and "Pure Phase." This time around, "Cop Shoot Cop" didn't make an appearance, neither did "Electricity", but "I Think I'm in Love" and "Stay With Me" did. Oh, opening with an explosion of noise that segued into "Shine a Light" was magnficient and set the tone for the rest of the show. Right at the moment of the climax, as the sound exploded into the slide-guitar intro of "Shine a Light", I couldn't have been happier.

I think I need to start going to more shows. I've got My Bloody Valentine's reunion show and Nick Cave on my calendar. Anything else I should dig?

PRO

Dang, I look like I should be getting paid to do this bike thing. I guess it's also obvious that my seatpost was slipping throughout the race. Fixed it on the go, albeit at the loss of some spots. Whatever.

Thanks to Naz for the sweet shot.

Palos

Helge e-mailed me earlier this week and said that due to a knee injury he wasn't going to take part in the Palos Meltdown mountain bike race held yesterday in beautiful Willow Springs. Said "Yeah, you can use my bike – jack that seatpost up to accommodate those spiderlegs of yours and see what happens." I was planning on going out anyway to support my friends on the team, so I said sure. Thing is, I've never raced offroad before besides cyclocross, and I sure as hell have never ridden fast through singletrack or on big scary rocks, waiting for me to fall and rip my skin to shreds.

I once owned a Specialized HR Pro mountain bike, but I used that thing as a commuter and I'd only taken it off road a handful of times. I sold it back in 2005 back when I was really into the roadie thing. However, as of late, racing off road has taken on a sort of allure - the scene's a bit more low key, most of my friends do it, and I've always lusted after some purple ano.

Yesterday, I woke up at 4:45 AM, got ready and got Allison to drive me over to Helge's place in Humboldt Park. We loaded up his bikes: he was bringing along his Voodoo Limba to ride with the HACT guys in the beginner's race, and his Jamis, which I was riding. A couple cases of the brew came along for the ride, too.

We got to the park, unloaded and we all hung out to watch our guys in the beginner's race. They tore it up – beating out a bunch of dudes on full-suspension MTB and other kinda inappropriate rides, the HACT smoked it on their 'cross bikes. Dave and Naz both took first in their age group, Adrian 2nd, same with Amanda. An awesome showing for the blue and white. Dan got lost and crashed, but was none the worse for wear, albeit coming in a bit later.

After a bit, I was up for my race: two laps of eight miles apiece, all over some serious terrain that I'd never seen before. I was a bit nervous only because I was going in completely blind – not only haven't I ever rolled fast over steep downhill rock patches, but I knew none of the corners or trouble spots. My plan was to follow someone and do what they did, just so long as it didn't involve crashing. That's how I roll, generally, but y'know, the best laid plans don't always come out as intended.

As we took off in the grassy, slow and hilly staging area, I hung out midpack, passing some riders but mostly looking ahead and waiting. We got into the woods and onto the dirt, and once the trail tilted upward, I started really passing riders and got more confident with each pedal stroke. I started bombing some corners, attacked on the uphills and just tried to stay smooth and upright. When I came upon the first of the three ravines, I practiced my dismount skills and ran it, same with any big logs I came across.

As I came around for the second lap, I put in some serious efforts and became a bit braver in the corners and on the rocks. Helge's bike was capable of so much, time for the rider to take advantage. The ravines I ran? I bombed them at speed. Logs? Ran a few, but mostly hopped over without bobbling. Near the end I passed a group of about four riders and worked with a guy from ECM to finish strong. Results were posted and I got a solid 6th (maybe 10th? huh?) in my age group, 31 overall, out of 225. Yeah, I was surprised, too. My first lap was taken in 45 minutes, the second in 40, so my confidence showed.

Is it necessary to say that I'm on the hunt for a mountain bike of my own now?

Despite the bounty of food in the fridge, I'm half-contemplating a dinner of tater tots, covered in tahini and ketchup, and served with a side of edamame.

I think I'm living in a nightmare.

Stuff

I think I've been bit by a bat and caught a curse of '80s Goth:

The evidence for:

For the past couple of years my playlist has been dominated by Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus, Medicine, My Bloody Valentine, Swans, and old industrial stuff such as Pigface, Nitzer Ebb and Einsturzende Neubaten. Pretty much anything morose, theatrical and tragic I am into.

Not only that, but I feel so much more serious.

I bought a pair of high-top black steeltoed Doc Martens awhile ago.

The evidence against:

The lack of white frilly shirts and crucifix necklaces in my wardrobe.

I was listening to Screeching Weasel yesterday.

I go to bed and wake up too early.



I'll elicit the opinions of the choir here.