Interbike 2010 - Follow Up Picture

This is a follow up picture to this post. At the end of the post there's a long discussion about Greg Lemond, his La Vie Claire TT helmet, and a card that my mom got for me. The card didn't have the La Vie Claire logo on the eggshell - I put that there in tribute to Greg Lemond.

I was going through a bunch of papers while sorting things out in our yet-to-be-finalized office area at home and voila!, there it was, the card, post signature.

Picture of the card

I suppose I'll scan it properly when I have the scanner set up. For now, though, this will have to do.

Equipment - 4iii Sportsiiiis

One of the things I saw way back when, in the 2010 Interbike show, was a new, still developing product by a new, still growing company named 4iiii. I put the picture of part of the interview here - a bit when one of the guys had some humorous problems trying to say something in front of the camera.

I alluded to the fact that I felt it the product of the year, but I never expanded on that thought. I didn't want to talk about some product that couldn't deliver, that didn't deliver, and then try and backpedal and say, "Well, I thought it was for real" and all that.

(And I know that I'm going to catch some good natured flak for that, but so be it.)

Well, today, in the mail, I found a box addressed to me.

The SDC nominated 2010 Product of the Year, the one that I never disclosed, had arrived!

Now, before I get into this thing, let me review some things I've learned about myself in the last few years of racing.

1. If my average wattage goes over 200 watts for a race, I usually don't have a sprint. I can't psyche myself out because I don't scroll through the numbers while I race - I only have second by second power readings available, and even then, I barely look at the computer while I race.

2. If my heart rate is over 168 or so when I launch a sprint, it's below par. Significantly below par. At 170-172 bpm, which is about my redline, I have no sprint - it's hard for me to even get out of the saddle. However, at 164 bpm, I have a ferocious sprint.

3. When I jump at about 95 rpm, I have the best peak power number. If I can stay in that range, by shifting whenever I get out of it, I can sustain a very high number much longer than normal.

I got all of these numbers by analyzing the power data the SRM gave me through the download. I didn't look at the computer while I was doing jumps or sprints or at the bell or whatever. I can't - I'd crash or something.

The only way that I could get this kind of data was by recording and reviewing my performance on the bike.

Let me say that again.

The only way that I could get this kind of data was by recording and reviewing my performance on the bike.

In an unfortunate coincidence, I can't use the data I got either, not easily.

And because that's important, let me say that again.

I can't use the data I got either, not easily.

It's hard to focus on the SRM screen, read my HR, read my cadence, all while barreling down the second last straight, while jumping out of a turn, while trying to surf the pack just right.

Ideally I'd have a system where I could have some way of telling me I'm at, just below, or just above my ideal points, without forcing me to look anywhere but where I want to look.

Let's get think about this. I can manipulate some factors, others I can't. Ultimately, average power is average power. I can't help it if I had to put down serious power to stay on wheels. Trust me, I'm not making attacks when I'm dying just staying on wheels - I don't flagrantly blast away at my reserves, not if I'm trying to do well in a race.

Another factor - my heart rate. I can somewhat take control of that. In the lead out in the final 2010 race, the Francis J Clarke race, my heart rate dropped 5 bpm during the lead out.

It dropped 5 bpm.

Heart rate is something where I can trade a few spots for a few bpm, with the idea that I should be able to get back those spots, with interest, in the sprint.

This means knowing my current heart rate is important.

The third factor - cadence, or how fast I'm pedaling at the moment.

This one is huge for me, just huge. I see, in different experiments, pretty consistent evidence that I lose as much as 200-300 watts when I veer away from my ideal cadence. Seeing as my race-end sprints tend to peak at only 1100-1200 watts, losing 200-300 watts is huge.

If I can jump at my ideal cadence, I should be able to stay much closer to my typical race ending 1200 watt jump.

If I'm really good, I may be able to rip out a training ride kind of sprint, one that bumps up that 1200 watts by at least 20%-25%. I haven't done that in a race ever so that's a pipe dream, but still, I can dream.

I'm putting things in terms of myself, in the descriptions above, but I can't imagine that I'm very different from an average regular racer. We all have our optimal power bands, our best cadence, our sweet spot heart rate. For me, I look for what I just described. Others may look for other things. A time trial kind of rider may focus on a narrow band of power output; a climber may focus on a similarly narrow band of power, or of heart rate.

We all have our sweet spots and we all need to be able to instantly and safely check them.

So what's all this got to do with the Product of the Year award, a belated year and change later?

4iiii came out with the product that accomplishes just that - it safely and instantly tells you if you're in your own sweet spot.

I talked with the folks at 4iiii at length in 2010, and a little less at length in 2011. The latter year was more interesting, with more off-the-floor talks, and an attempt at getting together to ride (I couldn't make the ride, and from what I could gather they'd be hammering anyway, something I don't do well except in a race).

The girls at 4iiiis.

I call them the girls with all due respect. They were a good hearted bunch for sure. One is the wife of their spokesperson Ian, and all of them are athletes. They also took their "booth girl" duties seriously but with a grain of salt, enjoying the camaraderie with the people interested in the product (the girls use them), while at the same time understanding that some of the guys at the booth had no idea what a Sportsiiii was, and never would, and didn't care.

The show booth glasses, with a Sportsiiiis mounted to a pair of sunglasses.

The heart rate broadcaster is on the right, the speed/cadence on the left.

Ultimately, although we kept in touch, I still had reservations on how this product would work (and if it would work at all). This is why I never put up a post about the product - I didn't want to be talking about a dream.

I wanted to talk about reality.

Well, reality landed in the mailbox today.

Inside the box.

This is a Sportsiiii with HR.

(Disclaimer - I'm getting this as a tester so I didn't buy it. But I'm going to test the heck out of it, believe me.)

The packaging is light and simple. The device itself weighs next to nothing. It charges up pretty quickly - by the time I got the software loaded and going, it was pretty well charged. Once I started playing with the settings, it was done, fully charged. Not much to charge; I'll be curious what the battery life is on the thing.

(Cue the wistful "well it would have been great to use in SoCal on a Palomar attack, with 6 or more hours continuous use to fully test the Sportsiiii".)

The lower back of the unit.

The round thing is a little speaker. If you want to know exactly what's going on, the Sportsiiii tells you. The red thing is, um, some red thing. I just looked it up. It's actually a touch sensitive power/function button. There's a black cap over the micro-USB port.

Micro-USB port open.

You can see the stuff that came with it in the background. Two mounts for glasses, so you can mount the thing on two glasses. A heart rate strap. Micro-USB adapter. A small quick start manual.

And that's it.

Because of a number of reasons, the first ride of the unit won't be until tomorrow, and it'll be on the trainer. But for now, with the setup and all, we can see some of the features.

We'll start with my focus, the heart rate and cadence things.

(With no Ant+ Sport power meter on my bike, I can't take advantage of power. As it is I need to get a cadence/speed pickup to broadcast that info to the Sportsiiii. Out of the box, with no Ant+ Sport pickups on the bike, I can only use heart rate.)

Picture of HR screen

Note the full charge indicator in the lower left, the big green battery. Note also the big yellow button "Ready to Upload". This uploads the settings into the Sportsiiii.

In this shot I've focused on my peak HR zones, the spots where I want to be just before a sprint. The green LED tells me I'm in the right zone (156 to 162 bpm, ideally just at or below 156), the yellows to either side alert me that I'm a bit out of it, either with more reserves (to the left) or going into the red zone (literally, as the LEDs move to the right).

The reason the interface has those music-print like lines across the screen is you can tune (pun intended) the LED colors to your preferences. So, for example, if I want the first two or three LEDs to light red, I just click and drag the musical notes to the red bar. After the settings upload, the appropriate LEDs will light red, not yellow or orange or green.

Incredibly, with the click and drag interface, I can make one bpm adjustments to the ranges. It's that sensitive. For a time trial type rider this would be incredibly valuable.

Cadence screenshot

Here I've adjusted the cadence range to a very minute, very fine range. The green LED will light when I'm between 92 and 95 RPM. The yellow before will stay lit in the 85-92 rpm range, prompting me to shift up. The yellow after will light from 96 to 100 rpm, warning me I'm starting to stray out of my optimal range.

Going into the sprint I want to see green in front of me. I'll shift as soon as I see red, then keep going.

If this sounds like it looks like the F1 steering wheels, with their LED shift lights that light up just before you need to shift, you're right. This is exactly what they were thinking when they made this set up. An intuitive, never have to look closely, no numbers reading, no focusing, just catch the color out of the corner of your eye.

For the rest of it I'm not as concerned. I know that my best time trailing and FTP type efforts happen at 111 rpm, so I set the red LED to go off at that point.

I expect that for most of a race I'd be in the upper yellow or orange zone, between 96 and 110 rpm.

For a hillier ride or a hilly crit, I could change this to focus a bit on a lower rpm range. This would let me focus on not bogging down too much on a power climb.

So, at this point, just before I use the unit, I'm going to sign off.

Sorry.

Tune in tomorrow for a ride report.

Interbike 2011 - Indoor Day Three

I got up a bit slower and later than the previous days. The Sinclair party tired me out a bit more than expected, and, honestly, I didn't think I'd be hitting the sack at two in the morning. Or 2:30. Or whatever time it was.

Nonetheless I roused myself out of bed around 8 AM (or was it 9?) and headed down to the show.

This guy looks like I felt.

The head above is from the SRAM pART PROJECT. SRAM gave bits and pieces to a bunch of artists. There was a rollerskating robotic Aliens/Predator kind of guy too, but I missed it. Full list here.

I tried to boost the attendee count. These are my SprinterDellaCasa mates.

Those folks above were part of the assortment of weird stuff I found in the show office. No idea where they came from but they'd sometimes disappear for a bit, returning from destinations unknown at a later point. They look more fit than I do.

A 70 tooth ring!

The largest chainring I'd ever dealt with before was a 59T, on a teammate's dad's bike. He and his son would ride up to New Hampshire from southwest Connecticut, a 19-24 hour ride (depending on wind, weather, and fitness). When the dad described the massive descents and trying to hit higher top speeds, I jokingly suggested getting a bigger gear.

I should have known better because he already got a Specialized TriSpoke wheel to increase top speed (he learned the hard way to skip the front for those gusty 55 mph descents). I happened to be looking at chainrings and spotted some oddities, like a 60T. I let it slip that these 60T monsters existed.

"A 60 tooth!?"
"Um..."
"Order me one!"
"Um..."
"When will it be in?"
"Um..."

Since I brought it up, I finally gave in. I tried to order a 60T but it was out of stock - I had to settle for a 59T.

I think I already posted these pictures but I can't remember.
These are from back in the day.

On the bike.
I think it's a 45T for the small ring, giving a 14T difference.

Anyway the large 70T ring caught my eye. I'm glad they weren't around when I had the shop - even with really aggressive gearing the small ring would have to be as big as 53T or so (for a difference of 17T between the small and large ring - it's kind of like shifting from a 53T to a 37T. To ride to New Hampshire with a 70/53 would be a bit much.

My main goal today, with not much on my agenda, was to go really fast at Circulus. They closed at noon so I had to get my act together. Unfortunately my stomach wasn't cooperating - apparently the late night at Sinclair was a bit much for my fragile (pronounced "fra-gilly") body.

Nonetheless I persevered, getting to Circulus at about 11:30 AM.

Fans.
From left (with camera at face) Kevin, Rich, Julie, and...
The guy with the white shirt, I forget his name but he's the one that convinced me to do this.

It's not bad. The surface looks slick but it's pretty grippy, treated with a secret agent that really improves traction, to the point that I was thinking of it for things like garages and other polished floor surfaces.

They even treated the concrete just inside the wood, helping those going up or down from falling when their front wheel hits the slick looking (but not) concrete.

It's the Circulus track, a small (50 foot diameter) track built by the pdw folks.

Here are some stills from the helmet cam footage I took. I didn't do any on Day Three as I'd lent out my helmet cam mount out on the evening of Day Two and hadn't retrieved it yet. But I did do some on Day Two, just slower than Day Three. Ultimately I'll have a clip together, but that's ultimately, not right now.

My view.
Actually taken on Day Two, when I was warming up to the idea of going fast.

The camera's view of the same shot (iPhone low res, from Kevin).
Again, Day Two footage, therefore I'm going pitifully slow.
I'd lean more if I were going faster.

Note that I'm going backwards. Yes, if you go backwards you help unwind the dizziness.

At least that's what I told myself.

So how does it work?

It works well. I mean, obviously, right? I'm here, writing about it. I didn't fall off the banking, even when I got going a bit faster. Here's how I got going on the thing:

First, ride around in a circle on the flat part. It takes only 4 mph to stay on the wood, 11 mph to go "fast". I'll get to the "fast" in a bit. 4 mph is not that fast so it doesn't take much to get up to speed.

Second, when you want to get on the Circulus, you need to kind of aim up it. The guy there said to do it like you're "walling" on a BMX bike. I nodded like, "Yeah, I know what you mean," but I've never done that ever. I figured it's like riding up a... wood track.

Third, once you get going on the wood, commit. It takes power to commit, at least for me on the BMX bikes. They didn't have any allen wrenches nearby (and I didn't feel like walking around to the tool booths to borrow one), so I only rode the low-seat-height BMX bikes. On those bikes it takes a lot of quads and hamstrings.

Fourth, once you want to stop, fight the "Holy smokes I'm going to crash!" vibe. Instead, coast and allow the bike to slow. I found that I'd come down off the banking a little too fast to stay on the concrete so I'd let the bike veer back into the banking, go up, then really turn a bit to come back down. By then I'd have slowed down enough to avoid going back up.

Fifth, if you want to go fast, stay below the blue line. It's not as glamourous but it's a heck of a lot faster. For a 5 lap sprint it's about 6 seconds slower if you're up the banking versus down near the floor. It helps to be able to extend your legs a bit more than I am in that picture above.

Sixth, stop after 10 laps or so. You get pretty dizzy when you stop. I found it helps to go backwards on the track for a bit (clockwise) to kind of "reset" the brain. If you've never ridden the track then do a backwards set as soon as you finish your first forwards set. This way you don't get your body hardwired to only go counterclockwise. If you keep going in just one direction, and it's easy to fall into that trap, it get to be pretty difficult to stand up without tottering like a drunk.

Speaking of which...

Seventh, and this is strictly optional, do NOT drink a lot of vodka cranberries the night before. Or tequila or rum or beer or any number of fuzzy brain drinks available around here. I set out on Day Three to do a couple flying 5 lap time trials, trying to come close to the 20.3 second time set on Day Two's competitions. When you do a hard effort, on a 50 foot wide circle, leaning at some absurd angle to the floor, on a bumpy surface, pedaling with the saddle too low, going totally anaerobic, it hurts if you've had fuzzy brain drinks in the recent past.

Although I felt pretty queasy for a bit after my first flying 5 lap effort (I mentally calculated where I had to run to get to the bathroom, or, worse, a garbage can), the feeling passed enough so I could do a second one.

Day Three footage was a bit faster but I never broke 20.3 seconds. Unfortunately I rode about a second a lap slower. I think my final two laps were much slower than my first three, due to the low pedaling position. I couldn't stand because I wasn't able to control the bike at speed while out of the saddle.

Kevin giving it a go.
He's tall enough to use the fast bikes with 700c wheels.

With Circulus on the way to Quality Bicycle Products (if your order has some weird errors in it, you may wonder if the picker just did a few laps on Circulus), I don't know when I'll be able to ride it again. But if I do, I'll know to come prepared with a few allen wrenches and a full helmet cam setup.

And, I have to admit, I got that hankering to get a BMX bike again, just to practice wheelies or walling or bunny hops. I'll probably get over it but still, I hadn't thought about that in a while.

After Circulus I had to chill a bit, literally, as I had overheated a bit. I got to talk again with some of my "IB2011" finds, the products that I figured were really cool. I'll write about them coming up, but they have to do mainly with small companies offering innovative products. With a bit of development, usually a cash injection, and a network for distribution, these products have a chance of really affecting the market. I also thought of some future trends for the industry (okay, one, for the road market), although again I'll write about them in future posts.

At 4 PM a voice came over the PA. I didn't record it, maybe I'll remember next year, but basically a female voice (IB staff) said that we'd finished up Interbike 2011. I could hear small cheers from around the hall. Small cheers because, by now, most of the vendors were close to losing their voices (like I did one year, with 15 minutes to go). Those folks must have applauded because I heard some clapping too.

All the hard work for the show management folks had finished, at least 99.9% of it. A few details, a post-show meeting or three, and that would be it. They could start thinking about and working on 2012. But, ever so briefly, they could think about relaxing just a bit. For the Interbike folks it's really hard work, putting things together for the whole year, culminating in just a few days of show, all their efforts for this one magical week in September.

Two of the Interbike ladies, Lindsay and Jenni (I hope I got that right), in the show office at the end of the day.
Those are foot massage things under their feet.

For the attendees it was like when a movie ends - the lights go on and everyone files out. All the scenes and music and parts and bikes and emotions and excitement from the show become a bit muted. Dealers stand around, blinking a bit, wondering what just happened. They could now relax with the only immediate task ahead being not to miss the flight home.

For the exhibitors it's the beginning of the final bit of the show - packing and leaving, like what race promoters do when the races finish up for the day. Having been there I know that some of the hardworking souls would be there until the wee hours of the night, working hard to pack stuff up before the show floor had to be cleared. The years I worked with an exhibitor ended up the hardest years of Interbike, and the hours following the show were the hardest of the hardest.

And, yes, I've lost my voice at Interbike, although it went with only 15 minutes to go. Dismissed for the rest of the show (all 15 minutes of it), I immediately headed over to the race DVD booth and, using hand gestures, bought a few DVDs.

When many of the lights go out you know it's done, and when that happened, we finally accepted that it was all over. As we walked out booths start coming down, revealing the mystery of the wizardry, the guts of the booth magic. It's a bit of a let down each year for me, this disassembly, at least until I worked with an exhibitor. I liked seeing the booths full and complete, nice displays and all. Seeing them start to come apart... it just meant that the show was ending.

In contrast to the Sinclair party the night before, Friday night ended up very tame. A bit exhausted, Kevin, Julie, and I went out for dinner at the Grand Lux (Venetian one, not the Palazzo one). Rich, caught up in some business, missed out on our early dinner, so we finished without him.

Kevin and I called it a night at that point. He had an early morning departure time (4 AM) to get home for real life stuff, and I had a slightly less early breakfast date. We talked about stuff, did some packing, packed away the various schwag, and texted and called and emailed friends and family.

I only had to get home to return to real life again. As magical as Interbike always is, it always has to end. Magic can't last forever because if it did it would become just "life".

Or, as the various vendors joke to each other at the show, where the incongruity of being surrounded by your passion yet working your butt off...

"So how's it going?" (preferably asked when booth is half set up or half brought down, or when it's 2 PM and the crazy busy booth has obviously kept the vendor from eating any regular food for 5 hours).

"Livin' the dream," with a big sigh.

Eyes meet. Grins all around.

"Oh, right. Livin' the dream."

Laughter.

Still, though, it is a dream. It's got to be, right?

Once again, dream or otherwise, I got to experience the magic of Interbike.

Here's to a great 2012 for all the exhibitors and attendees, to the media, and, finally, to the show management. I heard someone talk about coming back to Vegas. Therefore...

Viva Las Vegas!

Can't wait for Interbike 2012.

Interbike 2011 - Indoor Day Two

Day Two dawned bright and sunny. I probably groaned a bit when I got up, but I had some time to work with as it was 6 AM. I remembered that I hadn't texted the first appointment (9:30 AM) to David and Kameraman Kevin, an appointment I set up yesterday. I wrote the text but decided not to send the text out just yet - it'd be better to send it out an hour or two later. I heard that someone broadcast emailed welcoming folks to Interbike the day before - everyone's smart phones beeped bright and early when that email arrived - at about 6 AM local time.

So, for me, no texting too early. I'd wait to send it.

I had to run an errand in the morning, before the show, so I set out bright and early. I walked over to the Venetian's garage.

Early. Sunny. Vegas.

I stopped to take some tourist pictures.

There's a Blue Man Group self portrait thing.

I'm standing in the lower right corner of the screen. The left hand of the left guy is holding what looks suspiciously like a painted ContourHD, just bigger.

At the garage I got into a big boxy SUV, my errand runner for this trip. As much as I like riding, I also like driving. I even like driving boxy vehicles - when my friends moved using a U-Haul truck (a smaller one), I offered to drive it for them. As a kid my mom drew a "city" on the back of a table cloth, setting up lanes and parking lots. I'd "drive" my Matchbox cars all over it, carefully staying in the lanes. My favorite cars had squared off edges, for precise lane positioning, and springy suspension, for replicating cornering forces. I liked driving without "spilling" over the road lines, the same term I used when I filled in my coloring books.

I'm driving a wide boxy vehicle and trying to stay inside the lane.

After some severe navigational challenges (I'm surprised I didn't end up in Arizona), I got back to the show, a second person with me now (someone else's Missus, and, yes, he knew about me picking her up because I was driving his car).

My tasks today would be to set up the schedule for the rest of the day for David, talking with vendors and such. I'd also note any interesting new things for David to cover. I also promised some folks I'd try out their display, which I'll get to in a moment.

I headed over to the media booth leisurely, setting up shop, checking emails, stuff like that. I saw David, wondered why he wasn't already on his way to his first interview, and asked him when he was heading down to start the interviews.

"You headed downstairs?"
"Why, what time is the first one?"
"9:30"
"Um, it's after 9:30"
"What?!"

Then I realized the forgotten, not-sent-yet text.

Luckily Kamera Kevin was there so the two of them split to start their morning. My heartrate appropriately jump-started, I headed out to make the afternoon appointments.

Normally I'd walk up to a booth, wait for someone to notice me, and then go from there. Sometimes I'd end up talking with a junior person, sometimes the boss. Since technically I can wait, I choose to wait instead of cutting into a potential customer's time.

One big booth had a lot of busy people, with the only free staff person sitting at a table. Posters and brochures covered the white surface, and the girl sitting there looked up as I approached. Normally I'd just ask who to speak to but in this case I paused.

Something wasn't quite right.

I realized I was looking at various versions of the same face - one on the poster, one huge one on a larger-than-life standup thing, and the one on the girl.

"Are you... her?" I asked, pointing at the poster.

She laughed.

Ends up Angela Naeth is a pro triathlete, a sport of which I know appallingly little (in relation to rules, anything-other-than-bikes, and personalities). It was her first time in Vegas, first time in such a big trade show, the first time signing stuff.

I asked my new favorite pro triathlete for a signature, and later, a picture for the blog.

She admitted that she hadn't expected such a big poster of her.

I also, in the midst of this, managed to set up an appointment with her sponsor (she ended up interviewed for InterbikeTV by David).

By lunchtime I'd completed my main tasks, booking the entire afternoon for David. I set out to do some stuff that I wanted to get done -main on my list were visiting some booths in particular, check out the Levi signing, and listen to Greg Lemond at the Look booth.

Although I checked out this one booth in detail, even doing a ride in it, I don't want to give up too much. I'll cover it more on Day Three, when I returned to the booth with a vengeance.

Hint: the booth is about 150 feet wide, 5 feet tall, and is made of wood.

I made a point of checking out Action Wipes. They saved me after the rainy Lake Mead ride, enabling me to wipe down even though I didn't have towels and such. Martha Van (as everyone refers to her) owns the company, and she's a great person.

Pickles? At Interbike? Martha Van here prepping cramp relieving pickles.

She was setting up a "Pickle On A Stick" giveaway. Hey, it makes sense, right? Tests have shown pickle juice to be as effective as electrolyte drinks in relieving cramps. You know, there may be something to that craving so ubiquitously credited to pregnant women, that of peanut butter and pickles, or something like that.

Rachel, a racer on a team that Action Wipes helps sponsor, relieving any potential cramps.

In the meantime I'd gotten a signature from Levi, at the USPro Cycling Challenge (aka Tour of Colorado) booth. With my friend Julie still in line I struck up a conversation with Rachel. Since the Action Wipe and Levi (USPro Cycling Challenge) booths were next to each other, we watched the long line of fans, Levi's polite and cheerful signing, and basically people watched.

At some point Rachel wondered out loud if the blonde to Levi's right, at the table, was his wife. I pointed at the woman standing right in front of us, like two feet away, doing the same thing we were doing.

"That's his wife, Odessa Gunn. She's an ex-pro, photographer, had a column in CyclingNews... she's really something. In fact I think she was better known than Levi back in the day. Usually she's in cowboy boots and hat, at least that's what it seems like from pictures I've seen of her. Strong rider."

"Oh."

Rachel promptly introduced herself to Odessa, and then me to her too.

Levi, signing posters for... Odessa?
She explained to us afterward that she was getting signatures for friends.

I headed upstairs to try and catch the Look presentation of Greg Lemond's Tour win's 25th anniversary. He used carbon fiber Look frames, racing with La Vie Claire. He did a Q&A session first, answering questions about his Tour and racing career.

Very interestingly the poster in the booth showed him and Hampsten climbing together side by side, a picture I'd never seen before. Conspicuously absent was Bernard Hinault. It was taken the day Lemond counter-attacked Hinault's big attack the day before, taking back a huge amount of time and closing up the race between the two teammates.

Lemond explained Hampsten's attack during the Q&A session. From reading the race reports and listening to the commentary, Hampsten's attack seemed like a dig at either Lemond or Hinault, as he went so fast at the beginning he'd have taken the yellow if he'd continued the pace. Ends up that Lemond told him to attack to keep Hinault back (he'd come off a bit earlier) and so even if Hinault bridged he wouldn't be able to go (chasing a teammate etc). Then, when Hampsten had a gap, Lemond went, decisively, bridging quickly to Hampsten, letting him make pace, then going again when he'd recovered. Lemond would solo to the line and he'd go on to win the Tour.

If I had a poster I'd put a picture of it here but I don't so I won't. I'm satisfied with my picture from last year,

Then some of the Look booth staff came over to our table. Apparently we were leaning on the "signing table". I looked to the right at the long line of people waiting for Lemond and his Sharpie. As we "cut" when we leaned on it, we weren't "in line", and we had to move off.

Lemond. He has a strong and loyal following, including yours truly.

By the time we got out of the Look booth the end of the day approached rapidly. There were a few events planned for the evening. For some it'd be the Mobile Social, a ride from Interbike to Fremont street. Apparently 150 or so riders went, mostly on eclectic bikes.

Three of the riders met up. In front of us.

David, Carlton Reid, and Josh.

David is the guy doing the InterbikeTV interviews. He also does the Fredcast, and, along with Carlton and others, does the Spokesmen. Carlton has his own thing, BikeBiz.

What's funny is that Mrs SOC commented that she loves David but really loves Carlton. Of course I told both of them, and, being the good friends and such that they are, they both cracked up about it.

I have to admit that Carlton did ask for a screenshot of the comment. All in good nature of course.

They are all riding Tern Bicycles (by choice - they all seeked out the Terns themselves, although Josh has an alterior motive - he's the guy behind Tern), a sweet folding bike that is about as rigid as a bike can get. I rode one at Outdoor Demo and it was incredible. The small wheels took a bit of getting used to but the bike responded so crisply I overgeared myself all the time, thinking "I just accelerated way too easily, I need to shift up".

For me and Kevin it'd be a dinner with Psimet and his crew, shop owners out from Chicago-land. We had dinner at a pretty chic place, a bit more than I expected anyway. Great conversation, a bike geek's dream. I sipped my water (maybe I had a Coke too?), had some pasta (thinking I'd be riding tomorrow morning), and had a great time.

Kevin wanted to check out the Sinclair party so he and Psimet and crew left. Someone else, a jaded Sinclair party veteran, described the thing as 8000 guys and 6 showgirls. Based on his somewhat negative view I decided to pass, even though everyone else wanted to go.

Plus, as I'd mentioned, I thought that maybe I'd be riding early in the morning.

I was on the way back to the room when Julie started texting me, asking me to come over to the party. Then Kevin piped up. So, okay, I turned around and walked to XS at the Encore for the Sinclair party.

Kevin met me at the door with a wristband, allowing me to bypass the line (and, for those without a VIP pass, the $50 cover) and making the whole scene a little more unreal.

Because, as I've come to realize, Interbike is totally unreal.

As a Sinclair party virgin I took in the sights and sounds. The first thing I noticed (honestly) were two totally incongruent things in a night club - a time trial bike and a road bike, each spotlit so they stood out in the dark room. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details but I want to say one was a Argon, the other a Stevens? That would only make sense because Sinclair distributes them.

The next thing I noticed were not wearing Sinclair distributed products, not unless Campy makes sequin minidresses and Carnac makes high heel shoes.

Yep, the show girls. Really they were more like dancing girls. I saw such creatures eons ago at an old club sponsor 7 Willow Street in Portchester, NY, in the early-mid 90s, but since then, I don't remember any club dancers.

A rough picture illustrating that, yes, there is a bike here.

And, contrary to the jaded observer's description, there were a number of women there, not just the showgirls, but he accurately described that the overwhelming majority would be male.

I had a few drinks, ordering vodka mixes now that I'm a pro at ordering them. Well, I don't know if it's a "vodka-cranberry" or a "cranberry-vodka". I guess it's like mixing up the 11T and the 23T, a cog's a cog, right? Whatever I said, the bartenders (split evenly skimpily dressed girls and button up shirt with muted color tie guys) got it right. At the "Strip casino" drink prices they knew how to figure these things out.

Although Kevin headed out a bit early, the rest of us closed the party - at precisely 1 AM the lights blinked on, the music stopped, and the place resembled a post-concert venue. We hung out a bit as the place slowly emptied out, then headed our own ways.

As the only one headed to our building I walked back in a solo Vegas/Interbike haze. The vodka helped, I admit, but so did the warm and dry weather (at home I'd be either shivering or sweating while batting at mosquitoes), the lit up night (so it was like daytime at night), the cleanliness (NYC might be busy at 1 AM too but it's a lot messier), and the empty expanses.

No threatening criminal types.

No soliciting.

Just a pleasant walk home.

Tomorrow would be the last day of the show. I already skipped the morning ride, but I hoped to accomplish some final surreal things before heading back home.

Interbike 2011 - Indoor Day One

Welcome.

After a late night out - we had dinner after the Lavo party and got back at about 2 AM - I snapped awake at about 6:30 AM. I wanted to get to the show around 8, an hour before the main floor opened (the first floor opened at 8, the second at 9). I showered and dressed quickly, fortunate that I felt no lingering effects of the night before.

Wearing my new shoes for only the second time ever, I set off. Last year I broke in brand new shoes at Interbike too - I highly recommend this method of breaking in shoes, especially if you believe in the "dive into the deep end" method of learning how to swim. Anyway, with my now-molded-to-my-feet shoes slapping the concrete I caught the shuttle to the show. Unbelievably the clouds were emptying out again - it was raining for the third day in a row (?!). After a long drive in the shuttle me and my shoes got to the show in good order.

The first person I recognized, other than Rich, was Nelson Vails. As usual he dressed to the nines, in a suit, tie, and even the matching ruffles sticking out of his jacket pocket.

Conspicuously absent?

A lanyard holding a badge.

Rich asked where he had his badge.

"No badge. I don't need a badge."
"What do you tell security?"
"I don't need a badge. I walk up and when they ask me about my badge, I tell them 'no badge, but check those guys' IDs'. So they let me through and checked all the guys behind me for ID."

Only Nelson could get away with that.

We walked up to the show doors, before the show opened. The security guard let Nelson in and checked our badges.

I felt almost lucky I didn't have to show my ID.

Nelson checked out the Circulus track, a small (50 foot diameter) track built by the pdw folks. The pdw folks were really friendly and really encouraging, inviting us out to check out the track. Nelson asked if he could walk in and poke around.

The badgeless Nelson Vails, 1984 Olympic Gold, 200m sprints, and hotel management lookalike.

Nelson declined. But me?

Hm.

I have to think about that.

Artwork.

On the way to the media center we walked by the art display. The pieces here were commissioned by Interbike (I think) and the proceeds goes to various bike advocacy things. Something like that.

Once at the media center I realized I forgot the MiFi little card thing and my USB phone charger. Luckily the Nissan display of the Leaf also had a charger station - I used it to keep the phone from going critical. The MiFi was less an issue, although there are so many networks in here that you could probably hold up a fluorescent bulb and see a glow.

(You can try this under high tension power lines... just don't stay there too long.)

I managed to find a copy of the Show Daily, a review of what happened the day before. Lo and behold, what did I find?

Hunter, with white helmet, representing Connecticut and Cheshire Cycle.

I got into my role, scoping out stuff and setting up appointments for David. It's tough trying to coordinate all that, but overall it worked out pretty well. My role this year was more booking and such so after taking care of the day's schedule I got to browse around.

I stood in line for two signed posters (Dave Z and Ryder H), small posters (excellent for transportability), but otherwise checked out only a few things.

Dave Z's shoes say "Z". Sort of.

He seemed ruefully resigned to his autograph duties, but he still did them. I have no idea if these guys remember folks from one signing to another, but I imagine they remember the real oddballs.

Hopefully they don't remember me.

During the day I saw Richard Masoner, aka Cyclicious. He was munching on pistachios. I had to take a picture because the Missus had bought me the exact same kind of pistachios just a week or two ago.

Cyclicious Richard Masoner, with pistachios.

The first indoor day always seems busy. The booth girls are around usually on this day only. Everyone's dying to see what's out there. And every blogger and cycling news site is scrambling to scoop the others.

The Garmin booth was... crowded.

Believe it or not I did little research on anything this year, so although I saw the mobbed booth, I didn't try and take time away from those in there. I felt a bit overwhelmed with the show this year for whatever reason. I had to get used to the floor layout, figure out where the two sets of escalators sat (to get downstairs), and figure out where some of the office rooms sat.

The day rushed by, my legs tired, my feet reasonably okay, the shoes spectacular from a comfort point of view.

We had a short break to coordinate travel and such, then jumped in a minivan for a short drive. Tonight the after hours stuff was pretty tame, at least compared to last night. I stuck with drinking soda and water when we went to...

VIVA CROSS VEGAS!

Sorry. It's just that it's one of those things you can't say quietly.

Subaru bell.
I chose that side for this picture in honor of the Rent's team's sponsor, New England Subaru.

I figured this was a great way to end a 10 hour day spent on my feet - stand another few hours on uneven ground. By the end of the racing all sorts of weird muscles in my legs were cramping up.

Now, mind you, you really haven't seen much 'cross here. There are a few reasons for this.

1. I don't race 'cross.

2. I've never raced 'cross.

3. Even if I wanted to try it, I don't have a 'cross bike.

Although properly impressed with the athleticism out there, within a few minutes of watching the next race up (Elite Women's), I realized 'cross is really not for me.

For a moment I had some hope, a flickering. The field looked bunched up, like a crit field on a really narrow grass course, blasting by at speed, just after the start.

Then, within a few minutes, the group first strung out, started splitting, and then blew up into a million pieces.

I looked at how hard the women worked just to maintain speed on the tire-sucking grass and dirt. I thought about how it'd be to be there, to try and power through a hundred yards of muck, turn, do another hundred yards, all while never being able to coast or really draft or anything to ease the pain.

I thought of me doing such a thing.

"No way."

Then the Pro men went off. Holy smokes! Barrier to barrier at the start, they practically took the spectators' hands, heads, and cameras off.

Although it took a couple laps for the group to thin down, it still followed the same pattern. Mad rush at start. Racers blowing up as they hit the wall while trying to maintain what would essentially be about the same power (i.e. to power through dirt you need to pedal pretty hard - there's no coasting there).

As a given racer's fuse expired, he'd blow up and drop off. His position in the field at that moment depended on his skill at moving up, his cornering skills, technical skills in the run up, etc. The exploding racer would then typically leave a gap.

Others would go around, try and close it, redlining yet another racer or three.

More gaps.

More going around.

And even more gaps.

Interestingly enough I saw riders way up front blowing up early - it seems that they either went way too hard to get position or they had better technique but less fitness than those behind. I suspect the latter because 'cross is like running - if you can't hold a certain pace you get shelled, period.

No clever riding, no saving grace through technique and such. If you can't go fast, you lose.

Then, after thinking about the implications of the different types of terrain offered through the course, I thought of my ideal 'cross race. If such a creature popped up I'd think about trying it. So, if you want to get me on a 'cross bike, this is the course you need to make.

- Lots of corners, mainly on downhills

- As much pavement as possible

- Run ups as necessary

- Not a lot of flat stuff.

If you read into the requirements you'll realize that such a course would emphasize technique more than fitness. Corners, fast stuff (where you can draft if with someone), run ups, those all favor a crit-type rider. It avoids the flat power stuff, the stuff that requires super hard efforts, where wattage becomes king.

I had fun watching, my right ear hurt from someone ringing a bell right next to it, and I grinned a lot. After the races we packed up and headed out.

I wasn't sure how to summarize the whole 'cross race but then this car rolled by.

Piled into the car.
There's someone in the trunk too, maybe two of them.

It's what 'cross is.

Interbike 2011 - Outdoor Demo Day Two

OutDoor Demo (acronym an unfortunate ODD) day two, or ODD2. We started the day early, heading out for the Tour of Lake Mead. We had to get gas first though, and Kevin stopped at a gas station that he remembered had something weird - 100 octane gas.

100 octane!

When you think of it there are probably people who use such gas for powerboats and stuff on Lake Mead.

Still, though, it's a bit weird. I've never seen such a thing.

Bonus - you can get diesel on the same pump.

Once there we got ready for the ride. It looked threatening out there, big clouds over the valley below us, rolling towards us. Lightning flashed every now and then, thunder following.

We lined up at the Strava start point, rain starting to fall. Strava is a new social media thing where riders can record their ride and post the stats to the Strava page. There's a lot of instant analysis possible, especially in its deluxe format. For basics you see the distance, route, time, and average speed. If you pay the membership fee ($6/month or $59/year) you can see all the regular power stats - various versions of time/power (like 20 minutes power), speed, cadence, etc. I decided on a lark to do the Strava thing for the ride.

I regretted not swapping my tires out, the few year old kind-of-hardened-rubber ones for the fresh, soft, pliable tires on my aero wheels.

I also kind of regretted not ever getting wet weather brake pads. The dry weather ones are great in the dry but in the wet work about as well as rubbing wood blocks on polished granite.

The first bit, all the descending on narrow bike paths (which also borrow storm culverts), would really test my completely non-optimized set up.

Yesterday I did a recon ride on that bit on the electric (and, at the end of the ride, the non-electric) bike. Knowing what to expect, I figured I wanted to be near the front. Only the first 10 or 15 would be able to go fast on the initial descent - those following would inevitably be held up by someone going slow.

Of course it isn't a race, and with my less than optimal set up, I decided not to push my way to the front. Everyone rolled off and I found myself well and truly buried mid-field.

Start of the ride, kind of.

The brakes scared me a bit more than even I thought they would, my hands getting tired from hauling on the levers so hard. This was just to bleed off speed - if I had to stop I'd have to use some terra firma or similarly fixed man-made structures.

I lost my wingman Kevin when I stopped to check the helmet cam (status: wet but working), then really pushed to try and catch him. With the group scattered from here to eternity I got to descend at a faster pace, able to plan my braking 10 or 20 seconds ahead, not a tenth of a second.

Once the route flattened out a bit (but still a downhill), returned to the nice-traction roads, I caught up to a waiting Kevin. We put down some speed, rolling along, like the good old days. He claimed he had problems staying on my wheel - he had a compact crankset with a 50T, I was running the tandem chainrings, the large one being a 55T.

But he quickly showed his fitness when he dragged me along, pulling at a hard pace. I blew up somewhere around there, let him go, and reverted to my "plodding" mode.

The rain, painfully hard at times, forced the park police to cancel the event. I turned around, waited for the first group, and saw a familiar face - Hunter, a strong rider from back home. When I joined up with the group I realized just how poorly my brakes worked, having to desperately grab brakes just to keep from running into the back of people.

I rode to the side. If anyone slowed dramatically (i.e. coasted) I'd probably run into them. Not wanting to be the idiot that took out the bike industry peloton, I decided to take a huge pull, shelling myself when I swung off.

So I hit the front in the 55T. The rain pouring, I gritted my teeth, trying to lead out the rest of the group to the bottom of the next climb. The camera van rolled by.

Please, take a picture!

The window rolled down. A lens poked out.

I assume the shutter clicked.

(I'm still trying to track down the shutterbug.)

I pulled off and sat up. In 30 seconds they were gone.

I thought of excuses, like maybe I had a flat tire, else I'd have been able to keep going.

Luckily for me, while riding with one of the IB staff that joined me afterward, I noticed that my front tire seemed awfully soft, even for a wide rim set up.

The flat tire.

Mavic motorcycle is off-screen to my right.

I rolled up to the Mavic support motorcycle. He was running out of wheels but he gave me a tube so I could swap it out (this let me save the long valve tube I carry around). Ends up he's a guy that has a shop in Massachusetts, some of his guys do Bethel. Small world.

Dirty bike.

I stopped the Strava recording, an app on my phone. The phone then uploaded the ride info to the Strava site.

Wow. I'm... not that fast.

To put things in perspective one of the Strava women rode at 20+ mph, did 272 watts for 20 min, and basically annihilated me. I was picturing this powerhouse type rider and asked if the rider was around. To my surprise the Strava guy leaned over to the petite blonde a few feet away.

"Elle! Can you talk to this guy about your ride this morning?"

Ends up she's "just" a Cat 2 (I had to ask about her category before she reluctantly told me, a sure sign she was a 2 or a 1 or a pro) and "struggled" when the front group disintegrated itself. She said it was pretty hard - she spent 42% of the ride at her threshold. All I can say is that I wish I was that strong.

I don't have my power stats as my finicky wire didn't pick up the power/cadence bit. But thanks to Strave I know I averaged 14 mph on my ride. I went pretty hard at times, not so much at others. Still, though, it was a tiring ride. I ended up collapsing in fatigue in the car, taking a brief unplanned nap.

Refreshed I walked around a bit. I did some stuff to earn my keep, but that's kind of boring.

Well, one fun bit was snagging test riders to see what they thought of Outdoor Demo, of the day, of the bikes. I had a good score - only one rider didn't want to talk. Everyone the others stopped all grinned sheepishly and rode away.

Kevin the Kameraman, David @Fredcast, and a guest (shop owner from Texas I think).

"Kameraman" reminds me of something I thought of during the day. I saw Markus Storck walking around, a very distinctive looking guy. I heard a snippet of his German accent (or just outright German), and it made me comment to one of the IB guys walking with me.

"A German accent legitimizes any technological explanation."

He laughed.

"Yep," he said, "and if there's a K involved, it's even better. Like Kompressor."

The Kameraman is not German, but he's not the same Kevin as my long time friend.

At the end of the day we headed out for an industry party at Lavo in the Palazzo. The line didn't seem that long when we got there, but it grew and grew. When non-industry people asked why we were in line (it's like the Soviet Union - you stand in line first and find out what the line was for second), the big bouncer types started herding us into a line that apparently stretched out the doors (where I was in line) and onto the street. I figure there had to be a few hundred people before they opened the doors.

We were waiting in line for (gratis) 200 copies of the 7-Eleven book just released. Better yet a bunch of former 7-Eleven team people would be signing the book.

I got the book, walked up a few flights of stairs, and into a darkened bar. I spotted, unbelievably, Jock Boyer, the first of the modern US era riders. He's placed as high as 12th in the Tour (I think), 5th at Worlds, and was prominently featured in English-written racing magazines in the 80s.

I went up to him and asked him if he could sign my book. It was more intimate than a regular signing, mainly because it was so loud that he had to lean forward to hear my yelling.

"Yeah, lemme get a pen. Hey, Ron, can I borrow that?"

I looked to my left.

Ron Keifel. First 7-Eleven rider to win a race (a stage). Got 2nd in a stage in the Tour. He had talked that day of averaging insane speeds - whenever he looked down they were going 60 kph, 36 mph.

In the darkness I hadn't recognized him.

I couldn't help myself and blurted out, "Oh my God!"

I think I did it three times in a row.

(And, yes, I really am grown up. Really.)

They grinned, both signed, and they passed the book to the left.

Greg Demegen.

Holy smolies!

So on and so forth.

Jim Ochowicz, the director of the 7-Eleven team, was there. Danny Van Haute, now the director of the Jelly Belly Team. A slew of others. And they all signed my book.

Signed by everyone.

Then we reaped the second bit of the offerings - free vodka drinks (the reason why hundreds more people lined up). Any drink with vodka in it would be free. I don't know any vodka drinks so I polled the people next to me on what they ordered. Vodka cranberry. So be it.

Then, sitting there with all-round good guy Jim M, I listened in as others ordered.

I learned about a Red Bull variety. And a 7-Up type too.

The bartenders were busy.

Things were good.

Interbike 2011 - Outdoor Demo Day One

I woke up with a start when the alarm went off. It was 6 AM local time, 9 AM back at home. Groggy, I got ready for my first long day here in Vegas - a nice hot day outside, from 8 AM to probably about 6 PM.

First, the shower. Before I hopped in I realized I forgot to pack shampoo and a razor - inevitably I forget something if the Missus isn't with me. The hotel conveniently provided some shampoo, but the razor I'd have to buy later.

Once in the shower stall I almost slipped on the granite floors. In my shower at home it'd be okay, I'd just stick an elbow out and lean against the wall, no different than a little bump in a tight crit.

In this shower, though, it was a bit more spacious. In bike terms the walls were a bikeathon rider away. I'd have to extend an arm and I'd have a chance of putting my hand through some plate glass or smash my knuckles into some more granite.

Fortunately for me I managed to get out of the shower alive and well.

Luckily I didn't forget too much other stuff, and I managed to dress myself and get out the door.

Sans a cap, a critical accessory when outdoors in the desert.

Yet another thing that I missed, the Missus didn't not miss (since she's not with me), and therefore that I lacked. I had a tough time even with sunglasses but luckily I managed to score a precious cap.

Another cap for the household.

I also forgot any kind of waterbottle, especially the nicer insulated one. A savior dropped by and gave me one of these, filled with cool, refreshing water.

Great for use when walking around in a desert.

With that I was set.

We ran into an industry icon early on - Leonard Zinn, the framebuilder guy and tech advisor guy on the VeloNews site. He had a sweet custom frame set up. Looking at it I realized that he has to just unscrew the couplings, throw everything into a box (since the tubes are titanium it's pretty tough), and get on a plane.

Five S&S couplers. Five!
Don't forget the one in the stem.
He needs some insulated bottles.

Of course you need to back up your writing. Zinn does - he rode from the Strip to the Outdoor Demo area in well under two hours. Incredibly it seems he didn't drink anything on the way over - he arrived with two full bottles.

I couldn't get here in two hours this spring. In fact I couldn't get one town away from here in two hours. So Zinn did a good ride to get here.

I found a few interesting sites, my favorite one here.

The cowboy hat helps.

I love this picture because of the incongruities. I understand the hats - anyone who's been to an Outdoor Demo here will understand the need for a hat under the powerful sun. But the hat, the non-technical clothing, on the most technical of bikes... I had to take the picture.

I set off to recon the beginning of the Lake Mead course, to make sure that the route would work okay for a group ride. Since I didn't plan on riding here I had no kit. Someone suggested riding an electric assist bike. In sneakers, regular shorts, a nice, comfy electric bike should work well, allowing me to coast past riders on uphills.

I figured this would be a great test for the electric bike, me dressed like a casual bike rider, riding up a really long hill (3 point something miles).

On the way to the booth I stopped by the free ice cream stand and got a free popsicle for the uniformed guard standing at the entrance to the show. He really appreciated it, shook my hand. He never asked for it but, standing in the 95 degree heat, in uniform, he looked uncomfortably hot. An ice cold popsicle really helps.

Remember the others, right?

Right.

With that done we went to the booth with the electric bike (it's not an electric bike company, just a booth with an electric bike).

What I didn't consider is that as the day closes at Outdoor Demo any electric bike batteries out there will be pretty depleted. I asked the guys at the booth if they thought it'd make it. 3 of 5 bars, the red E on the battery meter lighting up (none of the greens).

One guy, who'd checked the battery, said that he'd play it safe and ride a different bike.

I thought about it.

Heck, you only live once. I took the chance, slammed the seat all the way down (of course), wobbled mounting the bike, and rolled away.

How did it go?

Let's put it this way.

It's amazing.

I pedaled lightly and the bike would roll along virtually effortlessly. I'm seriously considering commuting on an electric bike. You can carry some heavy stuff, so going and buying a bag of sugar doesn't seem too outlandish.

There are different ways to do this but it's just cool. Electric bikes only need to gain a bit more traction, get a bit lower in price, and they'll be all the rage among non-racers.

They'll be the focus of race by racers too, because racers will get tired of being passed by recreational riders on steep grades.

Seriously, it's that good.

However, and it's a big however... if I have doubts about a battery's charge, I'll now carry an extra battery. And I'll try and have another electric bike bike-rider on standby to literally tow me back.

As it was, we got down to the Lake Mead access road (all downhill), turned around, and the battery decided to quit.

Now I had an extra-heavy regular bike with extra drag (the electric motor will try and charge the battery if the motor is off, adding a lot of drag to an already draggy bike). I could barely get the bike moving on the small grades. I figured if I switched it to "On" at least the motor wouldn't try and charge the battery.

Presto!

Drag cut in half, I managed to crawl up the hills back to the Outdoor Demo area. When I said the battery quit, the guys didn't seem too impressed.

Boy, they're tough. I wonder what they'd consider tough if riding a low level hybrid bike with batteries and a motor and a front suspension up a three mile climb.

Then, after a few more questions, one guy pointed behind him.

"Did the battery give out there", motioning to the parking lot, "or did it go there", pointing down towards Lake Mead.

"Down by the lake."

Jaws dropped, eyes boggled.

"No way! You rode the bike back from there?!"
"Well, I got partway up before the battery died totally, but, yeah, I had to climb a while."

They laughed and grinned.

"Did you have to walk?"
"Nope."
"No?"
"Nope."
"Oh."

With them properly impressed (with my foolhardiness and the fact that I rode the thing back) I could leave.

Hot, sticky, sweaty, I could only welcome a brief shower. I say "brief" but it was pretty hard, leaving behind a double rainbow.

Oasis.

Withing 15 minutes we were basically dry, after a thorough soaking. I was thirsty, again. Hot, again.

Things just seemed unreal.

A fitting sunset.

After the Outdoor Demo ended for the day, we headed out to wet our feet in Lake Mead, then headed back to the city for a private vendor-provided BBQ. We finally found the house, just as the hosts rolled up in a nice stretch limo. The doorway had a fountain around it, the door was unlocked, and we walked in.

We asked if our host was there. We got some negatives, everyone was doing their thing, there was no industry people there, and we realized something.

Wrong house!

We went next door, the correct house, and laughed about our mistake, more so when we learned that a couple others did exactly the same thing.

After some food we headed out. My friend Kevin was waiting, having rolled into town this evening.

Tomorrow would be Day Two of Outdoor Demo, with the first day of real work.