So some select wedding pictures are up. The slide show is from the 2007 Nutmeg State Games and has a lot of familiar faces in the "racing shots". So take a look and see if you're there. The helmet cam clip is by far the most detailed and longest clip I've put together - I had to get it to fit inside of YouTube's 10 minute limit.
The pictures don't show me sitting in the driver's seat of the (then future-) missus's Honda, my bike on the roof rack, me wearing just the pants, shirt, shoes, and socks, AC on (not that you could tell), waiting for the rest of my family to arrive. They were bringing the jacket, vest, tie, and other things which I forgot at the house. Various friends gathered around and hung out since, well, if the groom wasn't going in, then they weren't either.
Of course a few took the opportunity to point out that only I "would bring his bike to his wedding."
At least we didn't ride away on the tandem.
Showing posts with label wedding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wedding. Show all posts
Monday, January 07, 2008
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Life - The Wedding
Ultimately, my goal, and the missus's (now I can say this instead of "future missus") goal, was to have a fun celebration. Yes, we got married, and yes, it was emotional, but really, what took place October 6 was a way of announcing that "Hey, we love each other!" to our family and closest of friends.
We were married at the Friends Meeting House in Wilton, CT. Although we're not necessarily religious, the Meeting House had some special meaning for me - I went to nursery school there, my nephew is now going there (and my nursery school teacher was still teaching when he started although she passed away recently), and my mom's memorial was held there. I hadn't been there in forever (except for my mom's memorial where I wasn't exactly in the mood to explore), so when I went, I discovered that my favorite playground toy, the merry go round, was still there. I remember sitting on it and spinning like mad until I was ill with dizziness. Even back then I was experimenting with rotating weight and moment of inertia - I found that if I went fast on the perimeter and then scooted to the middle, somehow the merry go round would accelerate. That was great because then I'd be even dizzier.
Incredible what four year olds think about.
We had our rehearsal Friday evening. Things went pretty well and a bunch of my family spent some time arranging and rearranging things in the Meeting Room. Our sound system was primitive (laptop + subwoofer equipped speakers) and my little brother was assigned DJ duties (my other brother's wife was extremely pregnant and my sister is only slightly less so which made me reluctant to ask them for anything).
We then went over to the Tuscan Oven in Norwalk for some dinner. They set aside a room for us, it was tastefully decorated, they'd prepared a custom menu (with our names on it and everything). Great food, great time, highly recommended.
Most everyone left but my best man, his wife, the groomsman, and my younger brother were sort of hanging out afterwards. A while back I'd talked what I wanted to do but due to various logistical problems, no one had made any plans. After asking a waitress if she knew any "clubs" in the area (she knew of one), she went and got another guy who happened to know of another ("I, uh, haven't been there in a while but there's a club...". The waitress remembered it - she lives nearby - and gave us detailed directions on how to get there. So we set off on a caravan to this joint.
I won't go into details but I'll say that my little brother, for all his rather extreme music and all that, had never been in one of those clubs. And my Best Man's wife hadn't either. So it was fun because it's fun to go with someone who hadn't gone before and see their reactions to what they see. We were there till some reasonably late hour and left after the scene started getting stale.
Saturday morning, after our late night out, I woke up five hours later at something like 7 in the morning, feeling somewhat zoned-out. I could barely eat, I felt almost numb, and I struggled to get anything done. It surprised me because I thought I had dealt with (or was dealing with) any stress or anxiety - but I realize now that the morning of the wedding I was pretty stressed. Usually I'm grumbly when I'm stressed but fortunately that day I was just frozen like a deer in headlights.
In my normal life I have all sorts of lists and time schedules and stuff - but that day I had a hard time figuring out if 11:30 was too early to shower (or eat or something) for a 1:30 wedding. I'm actually surprised I wasn't sitting frozen in the kitchen till 1:15.
Somehow, I started getting ready (including publishing the post 95 minutes before the wedding), and then time accelerated uncomfortably fast. It's like sitting in a long (for me) 30 lap race and zoning out and suddenly it's 5 to go and there's a break 30 seconds up the road. I started to stress - I had this vague feeling that I should have been at the Meeting House at 12:30 - and it was about 12:30. So I told everyone I'd go on ahead to open up the House and meet them there.
Obviously I arrived there a bit late - about 1 - and there were perhaps half a dozen cars parked already. I opened up the Meeting House doors (I had the keys), and then sat in my fiancee's car (which I'd driven there), AC on high, to try and cool off. It was in the 80s, a bit high for an early October weekend, and combined with what stress or nerves I wasn't officially feeling, it felt pretty hot.
Mike, one of my two tux-suited support friends, was already there - apparently he'd arrived a couple hours before to tailgate with whoever showed up. Unfortunately no one else got there till about when I got there.
As the cyclist friends arrived, most of them commented on the accessory sitting on the roof - my bike.
"Only Aki would bring his bike to his wedding."
Well, the thought did cross my mind that leaving it on the roof unattended at the reception site might be bad (although it's in a town that you probably never need to lock your doors). Plus I really wanted to drive that particular car (it has good AC and I really, really needed it) and I didn't know where else to put the bike that was already sitting on top of it.
Unfortunately it was relatively easy to stay cool since I only had my shirt, shoes, and pants on (which means that I would get service at a store at least). I forgot the tie, vest, cuff links, and jacket at the house (oops). My younger brother and sister (and their spouses - I was the last to get married) arrived with the rest of my wedding kit, and with the help of one of my finacee's in-laws Mark, I got dressed. Melissa, wife of a good friend, pinned the flower things on our lapels. (The flower things are not buccaneers but it sounds something like that).
Her husband, David, is also an avid cyclist and returning-to-competition racer - as apparent by his second place finish in a race that morning! He had been a bit concerned about the timing of it all so had actually asked me if I felt it appropriate for him to go racing that morning. I thought about it and there was nothing really to hold him back - if it were me it'd be a different story, but him, hey, the worst case scenario might be him limping a bit with Tegaderm under his suit. I gave him my blessings and -voila- he showed up all grins after a great race.
My other brother (he's younger too, just by not as much, so I call him my brother) arrived with his wife, two point nine-nine kids (she was having contractions at the wedding and had her third son three days later), and my dad arrived. Melissa quickly pinned the buccaneer things on my dad and the oldest nephew (who's four years old and designated professional ring bearer - he'd done my younger brother and my sister's weddings in his slightly-longer-than one year career) and we were set.
We had to be since the limo with the girls had arrived something like 15 minutes before that last paragraph happened. The JP was nice, gently reminded everyone to be calm, and we got on our way.
Suddenly I was feeling really warm. The pictures I've seen caught me wiping my forehead more than a few times so it wasn't an illusion.
So, with the merry go round out back somewhere, we had our ceremony. I didn't think I'd be too nervous but I started feeling a bit something as we lined up, ready to walk in. I realized that I was actually getting really nervous, worse than wondering if we'd sell the house, worse than lining up for a race. It was a different kind of nervousness - I guess at my age (hey, I can say that) nervousness manifests itself differently. My stomach started turning circles, my mind went blank, and I asked our JP what exactly we'd be doing. She reassured me and went over what I was to do.
"We're going to walk to the front of the room together."
"Okay. I can do that." I looked at her expectantly.
"That's it," she added after looking at me.
"Okay," I said, pausing to collect my thoughts. They all escaped again. I turned to the JP.
"Wait, what are we doing again?"
Alright, it wasn't that bad. But it was almost that bad. My mind went truly blank.
Then we went in and we were standing and the girls walked in and then the (still) future missus walked in and she and I think everyone else started crying.
Afterwards everyone was talking about that moment and Rich (Best Man) laughingly said to tough guy Mike (Tailgating Groomsman), "You know, I thought I heard some sniffling back there."
"Damn right, man, I didn't want to start bawling and make everyone else bawl too."
Mike's so sensitive, isn't he?
I don't remember very much other than Arianna (one of the two flower girls) looking up at me so cutely and then giving me a great, big, honest, reassuring smile in the middle of the ceremony. And my nephew, our ring bearer (in theory - the rings were really with Rich), he was sooo serious about walking up to the two angelic girls it was too cute.
My mind did go blank - while I was supposed to be repeating what the JP was saying, you know the "I, -insert name- take -insert name- to be my lawfully wedded wife". Blankness in sprints is good - it's a sort of a Zen thing - but blankness in a wedding ceremony, not good. I was struggling to repeat the lines - and as an aside, now I know why they read just one or two words at a time and then have the nervous wedded-to-be repeat after them. Within a few lines I was in trouble - I had no idea what the JP had just said.
So I looked at the JP and asked, "What was that?"
Everyone laughed and that unblanked my mind although I still didn't know what to say. Kevin, like his accurate sprint blow up prediction the day before, told me later that I was taking longer and longer to repeat things and by that fourth bit I looked to be in serious trouble and ka-blam that was the kicker.
Anyway I got through the rest of it okay. The still-future missus got through with the help of my best man (he gave her the first tissue which he had "just in case" - he was well prepared) and me (I got her tears with the stylish hankie in my breast pocket). We wrote our ceremony (which makes me blanking out even worse) and part of it asks everyone for their support in our marriage. Everyone caught on and a chorus of "We do's" resounded in the Meeting Room. And finally, at some point, we were pronounced man and wife and we kissed.
We were married.
And the future missus became missus which makes typing this blog a lot easier.
We took a nice leisurely cruise north to the reception site, the Keeler Tavern Inn. The drive was slow, steady, the driver was the epitome of perfection. We drank some of a bottle of champagne, talked and laughed, the things you do in a limo. The driver shoehorned the limo into the narrow driveway and dropped us off.
The reception itself was a casual affair catered by a wonderful person named Diane Browne - the missus had gone to a wedding (while I was training in California) and was so impressed with the caterer that we decided to use the same one - Diane. Excellent food, professional but personable, really nice crew too - they made you feel special.
The music was very cool too. In the stressful last week of the wedding planning, the last major planning hurdle ended up being deciding what music to play. We had some different ideas of what we like (for example, although I wouldn't play it at a wedding, I really like Linkin Park - the missus prefers John Mayer). One song which we didn't agree on was one we both liked but differed on its appropriateness at the wedding - Madness "It Must Be Love". Her choices I didn't even know most of them and hence I was hesitant to have them played (I'd want the music to reflect something in each of us I thought). In the end we decided to let the DJ pick the music - he claimed he had a tasteful mix of background type music and had offered up a subtle but nice background type of scene. He was really good, really understanding, and pulled off a great gig.
That DJ's name is Matt and he happened to be a designer in the real world - and has done such things as design a lot of what made Cipollini famous (the Peace thing, the Roman thing, Saeco's normal kit, etc) as well as the Carpe Diem Racing kit. He happens to be a pretty strong racer as well, racing as a Cat 2 for a long time.
His DJing skills are like his design ones - he knows his stuff, is fluent in his environment, and works with a quiet, confident authority. He started things off with some of the big band things that the missus liked (and everyone else apparently) but as he promised, the music was really there as a backdrop, not as a focus. His music grew a beat as the afternoon wore on, eventually culminating in some fun music. During the course of the day the missus and I ended up apart from each other as we talked with various peoples. At some point we ran into each other - just as "It Must Be Love" was playing.
"Hey, it's the song!"
We both had silly grins plastered on our faces.
Coincidentally our photog's name is Matt too. Like our DJ, he was dressed in very chic all black (he sort of resembles one of the Madness guys actually). He too was fluent in his environment, quietly secure, and exuded confidence that things were going great. He used the Keeler Tavern's garden with its various walkways and such to great effect, including a somewhat, um, hilarious shot of me and the garden's little water spout. He saw it, thought of it, and then had me replicate his pose - worth a laugh for sure.
If I ranked his photography as a cyclist might, he'd be an Elite or Cat 1 at worst. He was everywhere, cheerful, great to work with, never bossy, just excellent to work with, and to top it off he took a lot of great shots.
Yeah, like I know right?
Well, actually, I do know. He'd show us some of the shots right after he took them, but then what's a shot or two if you can't get everything? Exactly - which is probably why, before he left, he'd set up a laptop playing a slide show... of the wedding and the reception, all to music.
Incredible.
When it got to be that time we started closing shop. My various brothers and in-laws helped break things down (they had already done the same at the Meeting House) and stuffed a lot of gear in the missus's car (which one of them drove up, bike and all). My sister was excused of course as she's well into her first pregnancy (due December). We were interrupted by someone coming to check out the place for some gig (a reception?) - I don't think you could have gotten a more enthusiastic recommendation, and the two women drove off talking about booking the place now.
And that, as they say, was that.
We wrapped up the day at the Tuscan Oven bar - after the great dinner there the prior evening, we decided to go back for drinks. Us newlyweds were pretty exhausted though and called it a night sort of early on. We retreated to our room after biding everyone a good night.
We really enjoyed working with the folks that helped us celebrate our day so I'd like to give them some credit here -
AfterHours Formal Wear, Nationwide (good if your best man lives 3000 miles away)
Wilton Friends Meeting House, Wilton, CT (non-denominational weddings welcome, I'd say a 100-120 person max)
Regency Limo, Wilton, CT (they've been around about as long as I've been cycling and now I know why)
Tuscan Oven, Norwalk, CT (our dining room was for about 25 or so people, excellent service and staff)
Diane Browne at Good Food, Good Things, 203-656-1920 (no site so they get a tel#), Darien, CT
Keeler Tavern Inn, Ridgefield, CT (up to 80 or so people, you can get a guided tour for very little more)
Matthew J Wagner Photography (can't say enough about him, great photog tricks, and he has a blog)
Mary Pugh, Justice of the Peace, Norwalk, CT (for CT only; she takes some pics too, and highly recommended if you're looking for something smaller and/or non-denominational)
We were married at the Friends Meeting House in Wilton, CT. Although we're not necessarily religious, the Meeting House had some special meaning for me - I went to nursery school there, my nephew is now going there (and my nursery school teacher was still teaching when he started although she passed away recently), and my mom's memorial was held there. I hadn't been there in forever (except for my mom's memorial where I wasn't exactly in the mood to explore), so when I went, I discovered that my favorite playground toy, the merry go round, was still there. I remember sitting on it and spinning like mad until I was ill with dizziness. Even back then I was experimenting with rotating weight and moment of inertia - I found that if I went fast on the perimeter and then scooted to the middle, somehow the merry go round would accelerate. That was great because then I'd be even dizzier.
Incredible what four year olds think about.
We had our rehearsal Friday evening. Things went pretty well and a bunch of my family spent some time arranging and rearranging things in the Meeting Room. Our sound system was primitive (laptop + subwoofer equipped speakers) and my little brother was assigned DJ duties (my other brother's wife was extremely pregnant and my sister is only slightly less so which made me reluctant to ask them for anything).
We then went over to the Tuscan Oven in Norwalk for some dinner. They set aside a room for us, it was tastefully decorated, they'd prepared a custom menu (with our names on it and everything). Great food, great time, highly recommended.
Most everyone left but my best man, his wife, the groomsman, and my younger brother were sort of hanging out afterwards. A while back I'd talked what I wanted to do but due to various logistical problems, no one had made any plans. After asking a waitress if she knew any "clubs" in the area (she knew of one), she went and got another guy who happened to know of another ("I, uh, haven't been there in a while but there's a club...". The waitress remembered it - she lives nearby - and gave us detailed directions on how to get there. So we set off on a caravan to this joint.
I won't go into details but I'll say that my little brother, for all his rather extreme music and all that, had never been in one of those clubs. And my Best Man's wife hadn't either. So it was fun because it's fun to go with someone who hadn't gone before and see their reactions to what they see. We were there till some reasonably late hour and left after the scene started getting stale.
Saturday morning, after our late night out, I woke up five hours later at something like 7 in the morning, feeling somewhat zoned-out. I could barely eat, I felt almost numb, and I struggled to get anything done. It surprised me because I thought I had dealt with (or was dealing with) any stress or anxiety - but I realize now that the morning of the wedding I was pretty stressed. Usually I'm grumbly when I'm stressed but fortunately that day I was just frozen like a deer in headlights.
In my normal life I have all sorts of lists and time schedules and stuff - but that day I had a hard time figuring out if 11:30 was too early to shower (or eat or something) for a 1:30 wedding. I'm actually surprised I wasn't sitting frozen in the kitchen till 1:15.
Somehow, I started getting ready (including publishing the post 95 minutes before the wedding), and then time accelerated uncomfortably fast. It's like sitting in a long (for me) 30 lap race and zoning out and suddenly it's 5 to go and there's a break 30 seconds up the road. I started to stress - I had this vague feeling that I should have been at the Meeting House at 12:30 - and it was about 12:30. So I told everyone I'd go on ahead to open up the House and meet them there.
Obviously I arrived there a bit late - about 1 - and there were perhaps half a dozen cars parked already. I opened up the Meeting House doors (I had the keys), and then sat in my fiancee's car (which I'd driven there), AC on high, to try and cool off. It was in the 80s, a bit high for an early October weekend, and combined with what stress or nerves I wasn't officially feeling, it felt pretty hot.
Mike, one of my two tux-suited support friends, was already there - apparently he'd arrived a couple hours before to tailgate with whoever showed up. Unfortunately no one else got there till about when I got there.
As the cyclist friends arrived, most of them commented on the accessory sitting on the roof - my bike.
"Only Aki would bring his bike to his wedding."
Well, the thought did cross my mind that leaving it on the roof unattended at the reception site might be bad (although it's in a town that you probably never need to lock your doors). Plus I really wanted to drive that particular car (it has good AC and I really, really needed it) and I didn't know where else to put the bike that was already sitting on top of it.
Unfortunately it was relatively easy to stay cool since I only had my shirt, shoes, and pants on (which means that I would get service at a store at least). I forgot the tie, vest, cuff links, and jacket at the house (oops). My younger brother and sister (and their spouses - I was the last to get married) arrived with the rest of my wedding kit, and with the help of one of my finacee's in-laws Mark, I got dressed. Melissa, wife of a good friend, pinned the flower things on our lapels. (The flower things are not buccaneers but it sounds something like that).
Her husband, David, is also an avid cyclist and returning-to-competition racer - as apparent by his second place finish in a race that morning! He had been a bit concerned about the timing of it all so had actually asked me if I felt it appropriate for him to go racing that morning. I thought about it and there was nothing really to hold him back - if it were me it'd be a different story, but him, hey, the worst case scenario might be him limping a bit with Tegaderm under his suit. I gave him my blessings and -voila- he showed up all grins after a great race.
My other brother (he's younger too, just by not as much, so I call him my brother) arrived with his wife, two point nine-nine kids (she was having contractions at the wedding and had her third son three days later), and my dad arrived. Melissa quickly pinned the buccaneer things on my dad and the oldest nephew (who's four years old and designated professional ring bearer - he'd done my younger brother and my sister's weddings in his slightly-longer-than one year career) and we were set.
We had to be since the limo with the girls had arrived something like 15 minutes before that last paragraph happened. The JP was nice, gently reminded everyone to be calm, and we got on our way.
Suddenly I was feeling really warm. The pictures I've seen caught me wiping my forehead more than a few times so it wasn't an illusion.
So, with the merry go round out back somewhere, we had our ceremony. I didn't think I'd be too nervous but I started feeling a bit something as we lined up, ready to walk in. I realized that I was actually getting really nervous, worse than wondering if we'd sell the house, worse than lining up for a race. It was a different kind of nervousness - I guess at my age (hey, I can say that) nervousness manifests itself differently. My stomach started turning circles, my mind went blank, and I asked our JP what exactly we'd be doing. She reassured me and went over what I was to do.
"We're going to walk to the front of the room together."
"Okay. I can do that." I looked at her expectantly.
"That's it," she added after looking at me.
"Okay," I said, pausing to collect my thoughts. They all escaped again. I turned to the JP.
"Wait, what are we doing again?"
Alright, it wasn't that bad. But it was almost that bad. My mind went truly blank.
Then we went in and we were standing and the girls walked in and then the (still) future missus walked in and she and I think everyone else started crying.
Afterwards everyone was talking about that moment and Rich (Best Man) laughingly said to tough guy Mike (Tailgating Groomsman), "You know, I thought I heard some sniffling back there."
"Damn right, man, I didn't want to start bawling and make everyone else bawl too."
Mike's so sensitive, isn't he?
I don't remember very much other than Arianna (one of the two flower girls) looking up at me so cutely and then giving me a great, big, honest, reassuring smile in the middle of the ceremony. And my nephew, our ring bearer (in theory - the rings were really with Rich), he was sooo serious about walking up to the two angelic girls it was too cute.
My mind did go blank - while I was supposed to be repeating what the JP was saying, you know the "I, -insert name- take -insert name- to be my lawfully wedded wife". Blankness in sprints is good - it's a sort of a Zen thing - but blankness in a wedding ceremony, not good. I was struggling to repeat the lines - and as an aside, now I know why they read just one or two words at a time and then have the nervous wedded-to-be repeat after them. Within a few lines I was in trouble - I had no idea what the JP had just said.
So I looked at the JP and asked, "What was that?"
Everyone laughed and that unblanked my mind although I still didn't know what to say. Kevin, like his accurate sprint blow up prediction the day before, told me later that I was taking longer and longer to repeat things and by that fourth bit I looked to be in serious trouble and ka-blam that was the kicker.
Anyway I got through the rest of it okay. The still-future missus got through with the help of my best man (he gave her the first tissue which he had "just in case" - he was well prepared) and me (I got her tears with the stylish hankie in my breast pocket). We wrote our ceremony (which makes me blanking out even worse) and part of it asks everyone for their support in our marriage. Everyone caught on and a chorus of "We do's" resounded in the Meeting Room. And finally, at some point, we were pronounced man and wife and we kissed.
We were married.
And the future missus became missus which makes typing this blog a lot easier.
We took a nice leisurely cruise north to the reception site, the Keeler Tavern Inn. The drive was slow, steady, the driver was the epitome of perfection. We drank some of a bottle of champagne, talked and laughed, the things you do in a limo. The driver shoehorned the limo into the narrow driveway and dropped us off.
The reception itself was a casual affair catered by a wonderful person named Diane Browne - the missus had gone to a wedding (while I was training in California) and was so impressed with the caterer that we decided to use the same one - Diane. Excellent food, professional but personable, really nice crew too - they made you feel special.
The music was very cool too. In the stressful last week of the wedding planning, the last major planning hurdle ended up being deciding what music to play. We had some different ideas of what we like (for example, although I wouldn't play it at a wedding, I really like Linkin Park - the missus prefers John Mayer). One song which we didn't agree on was one we both liked but differed on its appropriateness at the wedding - Madness "It Must Be Love". Her choices I didn't even know most of them and hence I was hesitant to have them played (I'd want the music to reflect something in each of us I thought). In the end we decided to let the DJ pick the music - he claimed he had a tasteful mix of background type music and had offered up a subtle but nice background type of scene. He was really good, really understanding, and pulled off a great gig.
That DJ's name is Matt and he happened to be a designer in the real world - and has done such things as design a lot of what made Cipollini famous (the Peace thing, the Roman thing, Saeco's normal kit, etc) as well as the Carpe Diem Racing kit. He happens to be a pretty strong racer as well, racing as a Cat 2 for a long time.
His DJing skills are like his design ones - he knows his stuff, is fluent in his environment, and works with a quiet, confident authority. He started things off with some of the big band things that the missus liked (and everyone else apparently) but as he promised, the music was really there as a backdrop, not as a focus. His music grew a beat as the afternoon wore on, eventually culminating in some fun music. During the course of the day the missus and I ended up apart from each other as we talked with various peoples. At some point we ran into each other - just as "It Must Be Love" was playing.
"Hey, it's the song!"
We both had silly grins plastered on our faces.
Coincidentally our photog's name is Matt too. Like our DJ, he was dressed in very chic all black (he sort of resembles one of the Madness guys actually). He too was fluent in his environment, quietly secure, and exuded confidence that things were going great. He used the Keeler Tavern's garden with its various walkways and such to great effect, including a somewhat, um, hilarious shot of me and the garden's little water spout. He saw it, thought of it, and then had me replicate his pose - worth a laugh for sure.
If I ranked his photography as a cyclist might, he'd be an Elite or Cat 1 at worst. He was everywhere, cheerful, great to work with, never bossy, just excellent to work with, and to top it off he took a lot of great shots.
Yeah, like I know right?
Well, actually, I do know. He'd show us some of the shots right after he took them, but then what's a shot or two if you can't get everything? Exactly - which is probably why, before he left, he'd set up a laptop playing a slide show... of the wedding and the reception, all to music.
Incredible.
When it got to be that time we started closing shop. My various brothers and in-laws helped break things down (they had already done the same at the Meeting House) and stuffed a lot of gear in the missus's car (which one of them drove up, bike and all). My sister was excused of course as she's well into her first pregnancy (due December). We were interrupted by someone coming to check out the place for some gig (a reception?) - I don't think you could have gotten a more enthusiastic recommendation, and the two women drove off talking about booking the place now.
And that, as they say, was that.
We wrapped up the day at the Tuscan Oven bar - after the great dinner there the prior evening, we decided to go back for drinks. Us newlyweds were pretty exhausted though and called it a night sort of early on. We retreated to our room after biding everyone a good night.
We really enjoyed working with the folks that helped us celebrate our day so I'd like to give them some credit here -
AfterHours Formal Wear, Nationwide (good if your best man lives 3000 miles away)
Wilton Friends Meeting House, Wilton, CT (non-denominational weddings welcome, I'd say a 100-120 person max)
Regency Limo, Wilton, CT (they've been around about as long as I've been cycling and now I know why)
Tuscan Oven, Norwalk, CT (our dining room was for about 25 or so people, excellent service and staff)
Diane Browne at Good Food, Good Things, 203-656-1920 (no site so they get a tel#), Darien, CT
Keeler Tavern Inn, Ridgefield, CT (up to 80 or so people, you can get a guided tour for very little more)
Matthew J Wagner Photography (can't say enough about him, great photog tricks, and he has a blog)
Mary Pugh, Justice of the Peace, Norwalk, CT (for CT only; she takes some pics too, and highly recommended if you're looking for something smaller and/or non-denominational)
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Training - Day Before the Wedding
I've alluded to the fact that I went for a ride the day before the wedding. Not only that, it was just before the rehearsal. My best man Rich and I went to a local (to my dad's house) shop Cycle Center to meet up with two of my good friends Kevin and Greg. Mike (my groomsman), who all of us desperately wanted on the ride, was unable to attend, having to finish a beautiful Aston Martin by Sunday - for a show, I guessed, and it ends up there was a high end car show Sunday morning.
One of the problems in getting a ride set up was the fact that Rich and Kevin both live really far away - California and Colorado respectively. So neither had a bike out here and Kevin didn't even bring pedals. Seeing as Greg is about the same size as Rich and Kevin, I'd asked him about borrowing some bikes from him (he usually has a bunch of bikes or friends who can loan him bikes). He told me he'd take care of it and said to talk to Nate at Cycle Center.
Cycle Center? Was he storing his bikes there?
No.
It ends up that when Nate heard of our predicament, he volunteered us two bikes - his own and a demo. They fit Rich and Kevin perfectly after Nate did some seat adjustments. Kevin bought some pedals, I bought some Enervit stuff, and eventually we kitted up and headed out.
Rich got Nate's personal 'cross bike and although he was initially skeptical of the various "shock absorbing" things on the bike, he seemed quite at home on the bike and eventually admitted the bike was pretty comfy. His Indurain-like pedaling style put the hurt on Kevin and myself on the first big (up) hill. My heart rate was starting to rise.
Luckily the road leveled and the three of us commented on Rich's steady but spirited pull. Rich was modest about it - it's hard to judge pace when you aren't looking around all the time. Nevertheless he backed off a bit on his pulls after that. With him a bit out of the "attacking" picture (in other words, this was a ride for me, not a hammerfest ride), Greg or Kevin ended up pulling ahead here and there.
Me, I was sitting in like usual, except when I wanted to go fast on the more thrilling parts (descents and a curve or two). I rode in a familiar zone because these guys and I go back a long way. Before Gene helped me with the Bethel Spring Series, it was Rich who was there, week after week, year after year. He worked with me as well, and as a friend, he's offered advice and observations, at times quite pointed. But that's what friends are for, right? Because if they don't tell you the real deal, no one will.
And just like Gene would work hard for me in my most important target races (like the 2005 Bethel Spring Series final where Gene absolutely rode his legs into the ground to support me), so too did Rich work his heart out for me on the bike. In one of my posts I detail his work as the then-unidentified Primary Leadout. What was incredible (and for which I felt bad) was whenever any race we were both in started winding down to its last laps, he'd always be looking for me, looking to pull me to the front, drop me off in a prime spot for the dash to the line. It seemed that he never thought to go for it himself.
Kevin was just like that before he moved out west. He, too, helped at the Bethel Spring Series. Similarly, he also helped me with my shop (again, making some pointed observations). In races too he'd look to lead me out - one race in particular sticks out as he was racing for a different team - I had two leadout guys competing to lead me out! And way back when, he helped me simply by being my second roommate during the first few years I had my house (and was dying for a paying roommate). He even found my third roommate after my first one moved out after she got married. His helpful nature manifested itself as he couldn't resist calling with offers of assistance the day before this ride
These "help your friend" habits die hard it seems. Towards the end of the ride, when the missus called to check where I was, I had to ease up to pull the phone out of my pocket. Kevin eased with me and watched as I flipped open my phone. I answered with "I'm running a bit late," and then made sure I knew what to wear, etc.
After I hung up Kevin looked over and commented that perhaps a different opening might have been better - the "I'm running a bit late" could have been improved to something like "Hi honey, how's it going?". Nonetheless, with the reasonably tight schedule in mind, his helpful mind turned to the task at hand - he asked me if he should go to the front to up the pace.
I felt like I was in the Yellow Jersey in the Tour.
Minus any doping allegations of course.
Greg too somehow always wanted to help out. I've known him a while - and if you've followed the posts, I've written a few bits about him, my favorite being the Purple Jersey post. Even at the peak of his riding he'd ask if I wanted to ride with him (imagine being asked by a Chris Horner if you wanted to ride with him - nice, yes, but how much good would it do Chris to have to wait for me everywhere?). Whenever we rode, he'd talk about "Oh man, I should lead you out for Gimbles" or Bethel or whatever ride/race we happened to be talking about at the time.
He's a lot younger than me - in fact, I was already an "adult" when I met this scrawny 12 year old kid. And like most kids, he had his issues - one that bugged me was his lackadaisical attitude towards time.
A long time ago he told me he'd ride with me at a particular time. When he didn't show up for a while (perhaps 20 or 30 minutes), I called him up and let loose with a lot of choice words. He claimed it wasn't a big deal, etc etc etc. Although it dampened our riding (and talking) for a bit, we smoothed it over like friends do.
Well, it seems that life has taught him a few lessons. Rich and I were running late with the car swap taking a bit longer than expected (ditto the physical). We'd told Kevin and Greg we'd be there at 2. I was driving my brother's Honda as fast as I could, meaning slightly above the limit on non-highways but accelerating hard (and faster on the highways). At the same time I was trying to listen for some indescribable "axle noise" reported by my brother (I didn't hear it). I'd been talking to Rich about Greg, how he's matured as he's gotten older (don't we all?), and I told him that Greg would probably call as we're running late. As if on cue, my phone rang. I glanced at the time before I answered it - 2:00:55.
Greg, it seems, gave us about 55 seconds leeway. Not bad for someone who used to show up 30 minutes late for stuff.
"Hey, where are you guys?"
I grinned.
Anyway, we were riding, I wasn't pulling much (basically never), and I used my lower frontal area and equal weight to descend like a rock. Greg (the only one who still lives and rides around the area) led us around on roads I'd forgotten about and it was nice to rediscover (and remember) the various descents, fast curves, and fun stuff on the ride. The whole time I was conscious of the fact that I had a rehearsal and dinner, and I knew we were already pushing the time envelope. This meant riding conservative, working hard on the hills, and letting the guys do the work on the flats.
You know, like old days.
That was until a little truck went trundling by at about 30 mph. I looked at it lovingly - an absolutely perfect leadout truck.
But no, this was my pre-rehearsal ride and I didn't want to show up at the rehearsal absolutely shattered.
That was when the back end of the truck went by - and the trailer it was pulling started past me.
The trailer pushed my self control out the window. I glanced, made sure I had some room (I did, barely), and jumped like the finish line on the Champs Elysee was 200 meters away. The car following the trailer tried to pass me (i.e. nudge me away from the back of the trailer since I was all of ten feet behind the trailer, not enough room for the car to actually pass me) but I doggedly stayed on the trailer, shifting up a few times until finally I was in my 11T, flying along at what the Power Tap claimed to be 42 mph. For some reason I kept going as long as I could and then ka-blam I blew sky high.
I coasted down and realized that I'd just done what I didn't want to do - totally annihilated myself. Luckily there was a light and stuff but we turned right and started up a hill.
Oh crap. I remembered this hill. It's long (and it's why I usually turn left at the light, which is what I was assuming we'd do). You know what assume stands for right?
Anyway, my back had gone numb (it does that after big sprints), I felt pretty queasy, and my legs were totally spent. I could barely bend my legs to turn the pedals - Mister Power Tap says I rode at about 6.5 mph for the next 10 minutes or so. This was a bit slow for the guys so they stopped and waited (sort of like old days again) and we went at a much reduced pace while I recovered (again, like old days).
Kevin was chuckling. Apparently when he saw the truck he just knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Of course I went flying by - and after the three of them watched me scamper away, Kevin turned to the other guys.
"Just wait a second... wait.. wait... There! Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That was Aki exploding."
Chuckle chuckle and all that.
When they stopped at the top of the hill to wait for me, they had enough time that they were busy examining the two loaner bikes and comparing notes on them. We headed back at, our time for riding quickly vanishing, Kevin doing some good pace making, even gapping Rich and Greg at one point accelerating through the last hard turn of the ride, but as we headed down the last stretch of road to the shop, Greg rocketed off. We sat up as he looked back with a big cheeky grin plastered across his face.
Some things, it seems, never change.
Of course, if I had the legs, I'd have gone. Of course. But I was already in a decent amount of hurt and decided I didn't want it bad enough. That looming rehearsal and all that. Right.
We got back, said some thank yous, I learned at that time about Nate's reason for helping so thanked him profusely. It was a great ride - great weather, great company, and a fun route. The distant guys (Rich, Kevin) caught up with both each other and with Greg. I'd been in reasonably contact with all of them so I suffered quietly - or not, I suppose you'd have to ask the guys. Kevin was so happy after the ride that later on he suggested to his (shocked) wife that perhaps they should move back east.
I wish that more of the guys could have made the ride, but with work and all that, I know it'd have been difficult. The lack of a definitive plan didn't help - we only solidified the ride time the day before because, frankly, I didn't know my own schedule. I suppose that when we move into a house we could do a BBQ/training ride thing - we'd have more than the two parking spots we have now, hopefully we'd have more than one shower, and I think it'd be a great day to spend a day, doing a fun ride and then hanging out with a whole bunch of friends.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. The ride couldn't have happened without Nate at Cycle Center on High Ridge Road in Stamford, CT. He explained it away as saying that since it was a special weekend for me, he wanted to help in whatever way he could. He did, we had a great ride, so my thanks go to him.
One of the problems in getting a ride set up was the fact that Rich and Kevin both live really far away - California and Colorado respectively. So neither had a bike out here and Kevin didn't even bring pedals. Seeing as Greg is about the same size as Rich and Kevin, I'd asked him about borrowing some bikes from him (he usually has a bunch of bikes or friends who can loan him bikes). He told me he'd take care of it and said to talk to Nate at Cycle Center.
Cycle Center? Was he storing his bikes there?
No.
It ends up that when Nate heard of our predicament, he volunteered us two bikes - his own and a demo. They fit Rich and Kevin perfectly after Nate did some seat adjustments. Kevin bought some pedals, I bought some Enervit stuff, and eventually we kitted up and headed out.
Rich got Nate's personal 'cross bike and although he was initially skeptical of the various "shock absorbing" things on the bike, he seemed quite at home on the bike and eventually admitted the bike was pretty comfy. His Indurain-like pedaling style put the hurt on Kevin and myself on the first big (up) hill. My heart rate was starting to rise.
Luckily the road leveled and the three of us commented on Rich's steady but spirited pull. Rich was modest about it - it's hard to judge pace when you aren't looking around all the time. Nevertheless he backed off a bit on his pulls after that. With him a bit out of the "attacking" picture (in other words, this was a ride for me, not a hammerfest ride), Greg or Kevin ended up pulling ahead here and there.
Me, I was sitting in like usual, except when I wanted to go fast on the more thrilling parts (descents and a curve or two). I rode in a familiar zone because these guys and I go back a long way. Before Gene helped me with the Bethel Spring Series, it was Rich who was there, week after week, year after year. He worked with me as well, and as a friend, he's offered advice and observations, at times quite pointed. But that's what friends are for, right? Because if they don't tell you the real deal, no one will.
And just like Gene would work hard for me in my most important target races (like the 2005 Bethel Spring Series final where Gene absolutely rode his legs into the ground to support me), so too did Rich work his heart out for me on the bike. In one of my posts I detail his work as the then-unidentified Primary Leadout. What was incredible (and for which I felt bad) was whenever any race we were both in started winding down to its last laps, he'd always be looking for me, looking to pull me to the front, drop me off in a prime spot for the dash to the line. It seemed that he never thought to go for it himself.
Kevin was just like that before he moved out west. He, too, helped at the Bethel Spring Series. Similarly, he also helped me with my shop (again, making some pointed observations). In races too he'd look to lead me out - one race in particular sticks out as he was racing for a different team - I had two leadout guys competing to lead me out! And way back when, he helped me simply by being my second roommate during the first few years I had my house (and was dying for a paying roommate). He even found my third roommate after my first one moved out after she got married. His helpful nature manifested itself as he couldn't resist calling with offers of assistance the day before this ride
These "help your friend" habits die hard it seems. Towards the end of the ride, when the missus called to check where I was, I had to ease up to pull the phone out of my pocket. Kevin eased with me and watched as I flipped open my phone. I answered with "I'm running a bit late," and then made sure I knew what to wear, etc.
After I hung up Kevin looked over and commented that perhaps a different opening might have been better - the "I'm running a bit late" could have been improved to something like "Hi honey, how's it going?". Nonetheless, with the reasonably tight schedule in mind, his helpful mind turned to the task at hand - he asked me if he should go to the front to up the pace.
I felt like I was in the Yellow Jersey in the Tour.
Minus any doping allegations of course.
Greg too somehow always wanted to help out. I've known him a while - and if you've followed the posts, I've written a few bits about him, my favorite being the Purple Jersey post. Even at the peak of his riding he'd ask if I wanted to ride with him (imagine being asked by a Chris Horner if you wanted to ride with him - nice, yes, but how much good would it do Chris to have to wait for me everywhere?). Whenever we rode, he'd talk about "Oh man, I should lead you out for Gimbles" or Bethel or whatever ride/race we happened to be talking about at the time.
He's a lot younger than me - in fact, I was already an "adult" when I met this scrawny 12 year old kid. And like most kids, he had his issues - one that bugged me was his lackadaisical attitude towards time.
A long time ago he told me he'd ride with me at a particular time. When he didn't show up for a while (perhaps 20 or 30 minutes), I called him up and let loose with a lot of choice words. He claimed it wasn't a big deal, etc etc etc. Although it dampened our riding (and talking) for a bit, we smoothed it over like friends do.
Well, it seems that life has taught him a few lessons. Rich and I were running late with the car swap taking a bit longer than expected (ditto the physical). We'd told Kevin and Greg we'd be there at 2. I was driving my brother's Honda as fast as I could, meaning slightly above the limit on non-highways but accelerating hard (and faster on the highways). At the same time I was trying to listen for some indescribable "axle noise" reported by my brother (I didn't hear it). I'd been talking to Rich about Greg, how he's matured as he's gotten older (don't we all?), and I told him that Greg would probably call as we're running late. As if on cue, my phone rang. I glanced at the time before I answered it - 2:00:55.
Greg, it seems, gave us about 55 seconds leeway. Not bad for someone who used to show up 30 minutes late for stuff.
"Hey, where are you guys?"
I grinned.
Anyway, we were riding, I wasn't pulling much (basically never), and I used my lower frontal area and equal weight to descend like a rock. Greg (the only one who still lives and rides around the area) led us around on roads I'd forgotten about and it was nice to rediscover (and remember) the various descents, fast curves, and fun stuff on the ride. The whole time I was conscious of the fact that I had a rehearsal and dinner, and I knew we were already pushing the time envelope. This meant riding conservative, working hard on the hills, and letting the guys do the work on the flats.
You know, like old days.
That was until a little truck went trundling by at about 30 mph. I looked at it lovingly - an absolutely perfect leadout truck.
But no, this was my pre-rehearsal ride and I didn't want to show up at the rehearsal absolutely shattered.
That was when the back end of the truck went by - and the trailer it was pulling started past me.
The trailer pushed my self control out the window. I glanced, made sure I had some room (I did, barely), and jumped like the finish line on the Champs Elysee was 200 meters away. The car following the trailer tried to pass me (i.e. nudge me away from the back of the trailer since I was all of ten feet behind the trailer, not enough room for the car to actually pass me) but I doggedly stayed on the trailer, shifting up a few times until finally I was in my 11T, flying along at what the Power Tap claimed to be 42 mph. For some reason I kept going as long as I could and then ka-blam I blew sky high.
I coasted down and realized that I'd just done what I didn't want to do - totally annihilated myself. Luckily there was a light and stuff but we turned right and started up a hill.
Oh crap. I remembered this hill. It's long (and it's why I usually turn left at the light, which is what I was assuming we'd do). You know what assume stands for right?
Anyway, my back had gone numb (it does that after big sprints), I felt pretty queasy, and my legs were totally spent. I could barely bend my legs to turn the pedals - Mister Power Tap says I rode at about 6.5 mph for the next 10 minutes or so. This was a bit slow for the guys so they stopped and waited (sort of like old days again) and we went at a much reduced pace while I recovered (again, like old days).
Kevin was chuckling. Apparently when he saw the truck he just knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Of course I went flying by - and after the three of them watched me scamper away, Kevin turned to the other guys.
"Just wait a second... wait.. wait... There! Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That was Aki exploding."
Chuckle chuckle and all that.
When they stopped at the top of the hill to wait for me, they had enough time that they were busy examining the two loaner bikes and comparing notes on them. We headed back at, our time for riding quickly vanishing, Kevin doing some good pace making, even gapping Rich and Greg at one point accelerating through the last hard turn of the ride, but as we headed down the last stretch of road to the shop, Greg rocketed off. We sat up as he looked back with a big cheeky grin plastered across his face.
Some things, it seems, never change.
Of course, if I had the legs, I'd have gone. Of course. But I was already in a decent amount of hurt and decided I didn't want it bad enough. That looming rehearsal and all that. Right.
We got back, said some thank yous, I learned at that time about Nate's reason for helping so thanked him profusely. It was a great ride - great weather, great company, and a fun route. The distant guys (Rich, Kevin) caught up with both each other and with Greg. I'd been in reasonably contact with all of them so I suffered quietly - or not, I suppose you'd have to ask the guys. Kevin was so happy after the ride that later on he suggested to his (shocked) wife that perhaps they should move back east.
I wish that more of the guys could have made the ride, but with work and all that, I know it'd have been difficult. The lack of a definitive plan didn't help - we only solidified the ride time the day before because, frankly, I didn't know my own schedule. I suppose that when we move into a house we could do a BBQ/training ride thing - we'd have more than the two parking spots we have now, hopefully we'd have more than one shower, and I think it'd be a great day to spend a day, doing a fun ride and then hanging out with a whole bunch of friends.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. The ride couldn't have happened without Nate at Cycle Center on High Ridge Road in Stamford, CT. He explained it away as saying that since it was a special weekend for me, he wanted to help in whatever way he could. He did, we had a great ride, so my thanks go to him.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Life - Day Before the Wedding - Physical
This is a bit post-dated as the wedding took place October 6 and I'm writing about the 5th and the 4th. With that in mind...
Thursday was a chaotic day with lots of small, miscellaneous things to do. It was the last day for us to get things done before the whirlwind of an already planned out Friday. Since Thursday was really us getting down to the southwest corner of Connecticut, I'll skip the "And then we ate breakfast - coffee and eggs for me" kind of post.
Friday morning we were up reasonably early to go pick up my best man. He flew in on the red-eye after a busy schedule back where he lives - on the other coast of the US. Because he'd be without a car, he joined us on our first round of errands (his wife would later join him/us driving her mom's car). At about 1 in the afternoon we'd swap cars (the missus would keep her car, we'd borrow my brother's), and go meet up for a ride with a couple of the boys from back in the day.
But I get ahead of myself.
We had breakfast at a diner which has a special meaning for the missus and myself. Although not a five star restaurant, it is where the we pretty much established our relationship over coffees and breakfasts. I think those kinds of meals are good for illuminating some of the other's traits - how one handles money, a mistaken order, cold coffee (or no coffee), even how one opens a door. It should be apparent that over the three or four years we ate there we decided we liked the person sitting across (and sometimes next to) us.
After this nostalgic meal (completely lost on the Best Man), we went to the doctor - I had a physical scheduled for late that morning. A little crazy as the office is 1.5 hours away from where I now live, but I like my doctor. More importantly, I trust him.
I trust him because he was the one that told me about my heart problem - some backwards thing on my EKG. He told me that if he'd seen my EKG with no other information, he'd figure he was looking at a guy having a heart attack. As a favor to me and any EMTs that might find me unconscious, he gave me a copy of the EKG with some appropriately illegible notes. A teammate who is also a doctor deciphered it quite easily (I guess doctors have their own secret handbook, just like I know Cat 2s have them). Basically it says that "This is normal and this guy is NOT having a heart attack and don't defibulate him."
I carry a reduced copy of it, laminated, in my wallet.
Here it is, with Tiger present for scale.
He told me that if I ever wanted a day off, I should wander into an emergency room rubbing my chest. I wouldn't need to say a word, he told me, and I'd be detained for a day or two for observation.
I haven't done this so far.
Anyway, the missus had some questions for the doc, my best man had no vehicle, so the three of us tramped into the office together. I felt like Britney Spears with her posse trailing her.
Minus the blond hair. And bare midriff. And with a much reduced posse. And... well, you know.
We were shown the waiting room, a circular bit with a bazillion medical pamphlets, all proclaiming how you might be afflicted with something for which they have a drug, and ask you doctor about it.
The best man (I'll name him - let's call him Rich) is a subtlely mischievous kind of guy. He managed to find a testosterone test - an electric one - and tried to use it. It had a gauge and a bunch of yes/no phrases, and it would tell you if you might be suffering from low testosterone. To his (and our) dismay, the batteries were so dead they were bloating. I went to the nice receptionist and asked for both batteries and wondered out loud if we could keep it. She said yes to both and got us some batteries. Properly armed I returned to the waiting room.
We found a couple Yes answers got you the prize - "You might have low testosterone". I started wondering if perhaps my "deterioration in my ability to play sports" (an actual yes/no phrase) was perhaps related to low testosterone.
I may have low testosterone.
Of course this test could be customized for specific professions. Like, let's see, maybe, um, bike racers?
Imagine the bike-specific phrases.
"I feel tired 14 days into a 21 day stage race"
"I can't outsprint Bettini"
"My name is Flo.."
I hate when the ink rubs off and you can't read the whole phrase. I suppose if your name is like that Florence Griffith-Joyner and most of it is rubbed off...
The nurse called me in for my prelims - weight, blood pressure, things like that. I was 184 lbs (aye caramba), bp was 120/80 (seems high but I wasn't feeling quite myself), and pulse 56 (not bad, but then again, I think I was a bit sick). The last time I went she weighed me, and when I hit over 180, she looked at me in surprise and said "You don't look that heavy - I thought you were 165 or so."
"I'm just dense," I replied, straight-faced.
She gave me a look like "Do you know what you just said?". I didn't elaborate and giggled inside. When I mentioned that from the last visit she told me that she'd laughed when she left the room. This time she didn't wait till she left - she was chuckling walking out the door.
The doc came in, said my cholesterol was high again. I forget the number but it's back over 200 (bad stuff) and I think almost 300 total. Since I'd gotten the bad stuff to 135 and my total to around 200 before, I figured it was the lack of exercise and lots of cholesterol type food that contributed. See, before the blood test I was eating 5 or so enormous hamburgers a day, meat loaf, and not a lot of veggies. The beef was leftover from my birthday bash and was so good I felt obliged to try and finish a whole Costco bag of ground sirloin patties - I couldn't eat the last two.
That makes it almost 16 1/3 pound patties in a week or so - about five pounds of beef. To be fair the missus had some meatloaf (but not any burgers). So maybe I had 4.5 pounds. Whatever.
The missus asked her questions and reminded me of mine - in no particular order "Why am I getting sick more than before?" and "Are there any issues with a guy 45 or so having kids?". I forget the other questions but the missus asked them - that's why she was there.
I asked about testosterone and the electronic test in the waiting room. Hey, if I have a TUE (Therapeutic Use Exemption) for androgen... But my plans for winning the Green Jersey in the Tour were smashed when the doc dismissed the test - "They all want you to medicate" or something to that effect.
Foiled.
Most important to me though was my hematocrit. It's quite high naturally and I was hoping for a 50%. It's like getting a speeding ticket on a bike I guess - if my 'crit was over 50% I could take two weeks off from racing. And I figured the five pounds of beef should have helped - all that iron and other red blood cell stuff. So I quickly looked at the sheet.
46%
My heart sank. Lower than before - in my last four physicals I'd gone from 49 to 48 to 47 to 46. Overall though, except for the cholesterol and my weight, things were reasonably fine. Of course I want to lose weight (getting up that hill at Bethel is a real pain when you're carrying 20 or 30 extra pounds), I'd like to lower my cholesterol so it's not something I have to think about, and I really, really want to break that magical 50% barrier for my hematocrit.
Hm.
I wonder if they have an electronic test for anemia.
Thursday was a chaotic day with lots of small, miscellaneous things to do. It was the last day for us to get things done before the whirlwind of an already planned out Friday. Since Thursday was really us getting down to the southwest corner of Connecticut, I'll skip the "And then we ate breakfast - coffee and eggs for me" kind of post.
Friday morning we were up reasonably early to go pick up my best man. He flew in on the red-eye after a busy schedule back where he lives - on the other coast of the US. Because he'd be without a car, he joined us on our first round of errands (his wife would later join him/us driving her mom's car). At about 1 in the afternoon we'd swap cars (the missus would keep her car, we'd borrow my brother's), and go meet up for a ride with a couple of the boys from back in the day.
But I get ahead of myself.
We had breakfast at a diner which has a special meaning for the missus and myself. Although not a five star restaurant, it is where the we pretty much established our relationship over coffees and breakfasts. I think those kinds of meals are good for illuminating some of the other's traits - how one handles money, a mistaken order, cold coffee (or no coffee), even how one opens a door. It should be apparent that over the three or four years we ate there we decided we liked the person sitting across (and sometimes next to) us.
After this nostalgic meal (completely lost on the Best Man), we went to the doctor - I had a physical scheduled for late that morning. A little crazy as the office is 1.5 hours away from where I now live, but I like my doctor. More importantly, I trust him.
I trust him because he was the one that told me about my heart problem - some backwards thing on my EKG. He told me that if he'd seen my EKG with no other information, he'd figure he was looking at a guy having a heart attack. As a favor to me and any EMTs that might find me unconscious, he gave me a copy of the EKG with some appropriately illegible notes. A teammate who is also a doctor deciphered it quite easily (I guess doctors have their own secret handbook, just like I know Cat 2s have them). Basically it says that "This is normal and this guy is NOT having a heart attack and don't defibulate him."
I carry a reduced copy of it, laminated, in my wallet.
Here it is, with Tiger present for scale.He told me that if I ever wanted a day off, I should wander into an emergency room rubbing my chest. I wouldn't need to say a word, he told me, and I'd be detained for a day or two for observation.
I haven't done this so far.
Anyway, the missus had some questions for the doc, my best man had no vehicle, so the three of us tramped into the office together. I felt like Britney Spears with her posse trailing her.
Minus the blond hair. And bare midriff. And with a much reduced posse. And... well, you know.
We were shown the waiting room, a circular bit with a bazillion medical pamphlets, all proclaiming how you might be afflicted with something for which they have a drug, and ask you doctor about it.
The best man (I'll name him - let's call him Rich) is a subtlely mischievous kind of guy. He managed to find a testosterone test - an electric one - and tried to use it. It had a gauge and a bunch of yes/no phrases, and it would tell you if you might be suffering from low testosterone. To his (and our) dismay, the batteries were so dead they were bloating. I went to the nice receptionist and asked for both batteries and wondered out loud if we could keep it. She said yes to both and got us some batteries. Properly armed I returned to the waiting room.
We found a couple Yes answers got you the prize - "You might have low testosterone". I started wondering if perhaps my "deterioration in my ability to play sports" (an actual yes/no phrase) was perhaps related to low testosterone.
I may have low testosterone.Of course this test could be customized for specific professions. Like, let's see, maybe, um, bike racers?
Imagine the bike-specific phrases.
"I feel tired 14 days into a 21 day stage race"
"I can't outsprint Bettini"
"My name is Flo.."
I hate when the ink rubs off and you can't read the whole phrase. I suppose if your name is like that Florence Griffith-Joyner and most of it is rubbed off...
The nurse called me in for my prelims - weight, blood pressure, things like that. I was 184 lbs (aye caramba), bp was 120/80 (seems high but I wasn't feeling quite myself), and pulse 56 (not bad, but then again, I think I was a bit sick). The last time I went she weighed me, and when I hit over 180, she looked at me in surprise and said "You don't look that heavy - I thought you were 165 or so."
"I'm just dense," I replied, straight-faced.
She gave me a look like "Do you know what you just said?". I didn't elaborate and giggled inside. When I mentioned that from the last visit she told me that she'd laughed when she left the room. This time she didn't wait till she left - she was chuckling walking out the door.
The doc came in, said my cholesterol was high again. I forget the number but it's back over 200 (bad stuff) and I think almost 300 total. Since I'd gotten the bad stuff to 135 and my total to around 200 before, I figured it was the lack of exercise and lots of cholesterol type food that contributed. See, before the blood test I was eating 5 or so enormous hamburgers a day, meat loaf, and not a lot of veggies. The beef was leftover from my birthday bash and was so good I felt obliged to try and finish a whole Costco bag of ground sirloin patties - I couldn't eat the last two.
That makes it almost 16 1/3 pound patties in a week or so - about five pounds of beef. To be fair the missus had some meatloaf (but not any burgers). So maybe I had 4.5 pounds. Whatever.
The missus asked her questions and reminded me of mine - in no particular order "Why am I getting sick more than before?" and "Are there any issues with a guy 45 or so having kids?". I forget the other questions but the missus asked them - that's why she was there.
I asked about testosterone and the electronic test in the waiting room. Hey, if I have a TUE (Therapeutic Use Exemption) for androgen... But my plans for winning the Green Jersey in the Tour were smashed when the doc dismissed the test - "They all want you to medicate" or something to that effect.
Foiled.
Most important to me though was my hematocrit. It's quite high naturally and I was hoping for a 50%. It's like getting a speeding ticket on a bike I guess - if my 'crit was over 50% I could take two weeks off from racing. And I figured the five pounds of beef should have helped - all that iron and other red blood cell stuff. So I quickly looked at the sheet.
46%
My heart sank. Lower than before - in my last four physicals I'd gone from 49 to 48 to 47 to 46. Overall though, except for the cholesterol and my weight, things were reasonably fine. Of course I want to lose weight (getting up that hill at Bethel is a real pain when you're carrying 20 or 30 extra pounds), I'd like to lower my cholesterol so it's not something I have to think about, and I really, really want to break that magical 50% barrier for my hematocrit.
Hm.
I wonder if they have an electronic test for anemia.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sick
So we're back.
I'll have more to report once I'm feeling up to it. To summarize - we got married, we had our reception, and we went on our honeymoon. All those things went really well.
Except that I'm sick.
Luckily the symptoms manifested themselves on the trip back so our honeymoon wasn't affected.
I'll have more to report once I'm feeling up to it. To summarize - we got married, we had our reception, and we went on our honeymoon. All those things went really well.
Except that I'm sick.
Luckily the symptoms manifested themselves on the trip back so our honeymoon wasn't affected.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Life - Wedding and Stuff
So the wedding is imminent (90 minutes away). Although we'll be stateside the night following, we'll be gone for the duration of the following week.
It's been a great couple days with lots of memorable moments but the fact that I've been busy hanging out with various friends and family means that computer time dropped to nil.
And although I'd love to drag all of you around virtually, that's probably not a great way to spend a honeymoon.
So, with that in mind, I'll be signing off until, at the earliest, Oct 15th.
It's been a great couple days with lots of memorable moments but the fact that I've been busy hanging out with various friends and family means that computer time dropped to nil.
And although I'd love to drag all of you around virtually, that's probably not a great way to spend a honeymoon.
So, with that in mind, I'll be signing off until, at the earliest, Oct 15th.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Training - Baseline Run
Suffice it to say that I haven't been doing too much with the bike. The wedding is next week, there are the various last minute details to iron out, we still haven't moved completely, and I'm still a bit under the weather.
Each day seems like a balance between trying to rest, trying to keep my throat from going "a bit raw" to "sore", and seeing if I have the energy to work, and on the really good days, to do a bit of physical exercise.
As it's off season, and with a lot of non-biking stuff scheduled in the next few weeks, I've decided to put any purchases on hold. I did, however, somehow buy rust proof materials for the van in my very ill haze and didn't know I did it until the UPS guy dropped off the boxes at the door. I don't think I've ordered anything else like that, and for now, I'm not planning on doing so.
The future missus and I try to do a regular walk up and down the Rails to Trails path around here - we even took the tandem on it one evening. Somehow, although it couldn't have been planned, every stretch is a mile long. So if you go from where we are (next to a RtT intersection), turn left and go to the next intersection, it's a mile. 0.99 miles according to gmap-pedometer. Go right and it's a mile too.
Now, for an unspecified reason, I've gotten in my head that I need to be able to do some general all around fitness type things at some reasonable level. This involves a bit of stretching, some abdominal work, upper body work, and running.
No, you do not need to look for me at 2008 multi-sport events.
The other night I did a couch-thumping bunch of sit-ups. I did crunches too but I timed myself on sit-ups for a minute. I anchored my feet under the couch and started up (after starting a 60 second timer), but my flailing around moved the couch almost a foot (hence the couch-thumping). I stopped after 35 sit-ups because I thought a minute had gone by and perhaps I didn't start the timer - I didn't want to be doing sit-ups for 2 or 3 minutes. When I looked at my watch it was at 5 seconds to go. I managed two more but felt awkward and weak after I was done. So, in the spirit of the samurai (always looking to improve oneself), I decided I better do this more often so I'm a bit more fluent.
About running... I once heard a relatively well known cyclist, who grew up riding with a much better known cyclist (ex-teammate for a while now), talk about running. Just like the really well known ex-teammate (he won a bunch of Tours), he cut his teeth on triathlons. And after he retired from his pro cycling career, he decided to return to his tri roots. When queried by another ex-pro on how this change was going, he said that the biggest thing to deal with was that since cycling is so gentle on your joints, he had to allocate months of running to toughen them back up (so he could run the distances necessary to train at a pro level).
Although I was simply eavesdropping on this conversation, I filed this information away like I normally do. And now, a few years later, as someone who's seeing if he can run faster than an 8:00 minute mile, I've started to realize a bit of what that guy was talking about.
For now, my runs (all three of them) have progressed steadily in an unspectacular fashion. I managed a mile run the first time (about a month ago now), and it took me about 10 minutes of careful trotting.
It killed my legs.
I had to hold onto the towel bar to sit on the toilet. I almost fell down the stairs when my legs buckled. And it took a good four or five days to recover.
A couple weeks later I did a slightly faster run, the same mile, and although I walked for a minute after running at a very optimistic pace for 5 or 6 minutes, I covered the mile in about 8 minutes. And although my shins were a bit sore (worrying me), within a day I was fine. And my muscles were fine.
Using the satellite picture on gmap-pedometer, I picked out a tree which marked the 1/2 mile point, got my gear on (it's much easier getting ready to run versus riding), and went out the door. It's just over 1/2 mile to get to the half mile point so I walked it sort of quickly - I don't really know too much about warm-ups, never really did them for cycling, so I figure walking for about 10 minutes is plenty. Then, to get a baseline for a 1.5 mile run, I started running when I got to the Tree.
My heart rate immediately went up and I was on my way. I was dying at the turnaround a half mile away, convinced it'd taken me at least 5 or 6 minutes to get there, my heart rate higher than I normally see on the bike (and staying there). I checked my time - 3:45 (!).
Okay, that's pretty impressive. Well to me it is.
So I walked my heart rate down to about 170 (from 172, which is kind of high for me), which was about 10 seconds, and started trotting back. At the Tree I walked again, let my heart rate drop from 176 to 172 or so (I gave myself another 10 seconds regardless of the heart rate), and I continued on to the end of the path. I walked another 10 seconds at the end but even so I covered the 1.5 miles in 12:04.
Peak heart rate - 181. I rarely hit that in sprints.
So... that's my baseline. In the next month I'd like to reduce that time, perhaps by as much as a minute. I can't imagine not being able to run a lot faster than my sorry trot I did today.
In other news, Secondo, from a race way back when, apparently lives in the area. He asked if I wanted to ride. The route he mentioned goes up a road towards a house the future missus and I like so I remembered the road. One of the comments on the house was that if we lived there, I'd get a lot of climbing in as I'd have to do a couple major hills just to get home on each ride. That included said road.
Anyway, for me, right now, I wouldn't want to put someone through the agony of waiting for me on such climbs.
With incredible foresight, I'd been thinking about what to do if someone offers something like this (i.e. "Want to go for a ride?"). I had to find a way to point out that, although I may hold my own at Bethel and New Britain, I make for pretty miserable training company unless my ride companions are on an easy day. I tell guys (like on my team, like a Cat 5 on the team) "I'm not really fit" and they all pshaw me and tell me "Yeah whatever". Then when my heart rate goes over 170, I'm dying, and they're soft pedaling up the hill in front of me, they realize, oh, maybe Aki was right about that.
Anyway, I've decided power and average speed are two easy ways to illustrate my riding ability (or lack thereof).
Along those lines, the last few rides on the bike (even as recently as this week), I've kept track of things like average speed, power, etc. And the numbers are quite low. On essentially a flat route (I get out of the saddle for perhaps 3 little rises, none of them remotely close as big as the 150 meter "hill" at Bethel), I average about 28 kph or about 17 mph. My power rarely exceeds a 170 watt average. And on these sub-hour rides, when I get back, I'm somewhat spent.
I pointed this out to Secondo, who, somehow, hasn't pressed the issue. To be fair he knows I'm getting married and stuff but I still think it's sort of funny.
So I'm continuing some of these "all 'round" fitness things. This weekend we hope to finalize most of our moving in, get some wedding things finalized, and start thinking about next weekend and the honeymoon week after that.
Each day seems like a balance between trying to rest, trying to keep my throat from going "a bit raw" to "sore", and seeing if I have the energy to work, and on the really good days, to do a bit of physical exercise.
As it's off season, and with a lot of non-biking stuff scheduled in the next few weeks, I've decided to put any purchases on hold. I did, however, somehow buy rust proof materials for the van in my very ill haze and didn't know I did it until the UPS guy dropped off the boxes at the door. I don't think I've ordered anything else like that, and for now, I'm not planning on doing so.
The future missus and I try to do a regular walk up and down the Rails to Trails path around here - we even took the tandem on it one evening. Somehow, although it couldn't have been planned, every stretch is a mile long. So if you go from where we are (next to a RtT intersection), turn left and go to the next intersection, it's a mile. 0.99 miles according to gmap-pedometer. Go right and it's a mile too.
Now, for an unspecified reason, I've gotten in my head that I need to be able to do some general all around fitness type things at some reasonable level. This involves a bit of stretching, some abdominal work, upper body work, and running.
No, you do not need to look for me at 2008 multi-sport events.
The other night I did a couch-thumping bunch of sit-ups. I did crunches too but I timed myself on sit-ups for a minute. I anchored my feet under the couch and started up (after starting a 60 second timer), but my flailing around moved the couch almost a foot (hence the couch-thumping). I stopped after 35 sit-ups because I thought a minute had gone by and perhaps I didn't start the timer - I didn't want to be doing sit-ups for 2 or 3 minutes. When I looked at my watch it was at 5 seconds to go. I managed two more but felt awkward and weak after I was done. So, in the spirit of the samurai (always looking to improve oneself), I decided I better do this more often so I'm a bit more fluent.
About running... I once heard a relatively well known cyclist, who grew up riding with a much better known cyclist (ex-teammate for a while now), talk about running. Just like the really well known ex-teammate (he won a bunch of Tours), he cut his teeth on triathlons. And after he retired from his pro cycling career, he decided to return to his tri roots. When queried by another ex-pro on how this change was going, he said that the biggest thing to deal with was that since cycling is so gentle on your joints, he had to allocate months of running to toughen them back up (so he could run the distances necessary to train at a pro level).
Although I was simply eavesdropping on this conversation, I filed this information away like I normally do. And now, a few years later, as someone who's seeing if he can run faster than an 8:00 minute mile, I've started to realize a bit of what that guy was talking about.
For now, my runs (all three of them) have progressed steadily in an unspectacular fashion. I managed a mile run the first time (about a month ago now), and it took me about 10 minutes of careful trotting.
It killed my legs.
I had to hold onto the towel bar to sit on the toilet. I almost fell down the stairs when my legs buckled. And it took a good four or five days to recover.
A couple weeks later I did a slightly faster run, the same mile, and although I walked for a minute after running at a very optimistic pace for 5 or 6 minutes, I covered the mile in about 8 minutes. And although my shins were a bit sore (worrying me), within a day I was fine. And my muscles were fine.
Using the satellite picture on gmap-pedometer, I picked out a tree which marked the 1/2 mile point, got my gear on (it's much easier getting ready to run versus riding), and went out the door. It's just over 1/2 mile to get to the half mile point so I walked it sort of quickly - I don't really know too much about warm-ups, never really did them for cycling, so I figure walking for about 10 minutes is plenty. Then, to get a baseline for a 1.5 mile run, I started running when I got to the Tree.
My heart rate immediately went up and I was on my way. I was dying at the turnaround a half mile away, convinced it'd taken me at least 5 or 6 minutes to get there, my heart rate higher than I normally see on the bike (and staying there). I checked my time - 3:45 (!).
Okay, that's pretty impressive. Well to me it is.
So I walked my heart rate down to about 170 (from 172, which is kind of high for me), which was about 10 seconds, and started trotting back. At the Tree I walked again, let my heart rate drop from 176 to 172 or so (I gave myself another 10 seconds regardless of the heart rate), and I continued on to the end of the path. I walked another 10 seconds at the end but even so I covered the 1.5 miles in 12:04.
Peak heart rate - 181. I rarely hit that in sprints.
So... that's my baseline. In the next month I'd like to reduce that time, perhaps by as much as a minute. I can't imagine not being able to run a lot faster than my sorry trot I did today.
In other news, Secondo, from a race way back when, apparently lives in the area. He asked if I wanted to ride. The route he mentioned goes up a road towards a house the future missus and I like so I remembered the road. One of the comments on the house was that if we lived there, I'd get a lot of climbing in as I'd have to do a couple major hills just to get home on each ride. That included said road.
Anyway, for me, right now, I wouldn't want to put someone through the agony of waiting for me on such climbs.
With incredible foresight, I'd been thinking about what to do if someone offers something like this (i.e. "Want to go for a ride?"). I had to find a way to point out that, although I may hold my own at Bethel and New Britain, I make for pretty miserable training company unless my ride companions are on an easy day. I tell guys (like on my team, like a Cat 5 on the team) "I'm not really fit" and they all pshaw me and tell me "Yeah whatever". Then when my heart rate goes over 170, I'm dying, and they're soft pedaling up the hill in front of me, they realize, oh, maybe Aki was right about that.
Anyway, I've decided power and average speed are two easy ways to illustrate my riding ability (or lack thereof).
Along those lines, the last few rides on the bike (even as recently as this week), I've kept track of things like average speed, power, etc. And the numbers are quite low. On essentially a flat route (I get out of the saddle for perhaps 3 little rises, none of them remotely close as big as the 150 meter "hill" at Bethel), I average about 28 kph or about 17 mph. My power rarely exceeds a 170 watt average. And on these sub-hour rides, when I get back, I'm somewhat spent.
I pointed this out to Secondo, who, somehow, hasn't pressed the issue. To be fair he knows I'm getting married and stuff but I still think it's sort of funny.
So I'm continuing some of these "all 'round" fitness things. This weekend we hope to finalize most of our moving in, get some wedding things finalized, and start thinking about next weekend and the honeymoon week after that.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Life - Offseason, Upcoming Wedding
Things have been slow on my front here in Simsbury. The weather took a dramatic turn downwards (last night it was about 40 degrees F) and made for some chilly nights and a touch of a scratchy throat. The days are still moderately warm - about 70 each day, 80s in a couple days - so my body is a bit confused. Come to think of it, this is how it is out West in February.
No wonder I usually get sick out there.
Anyway, with a new town, distance from friends and family, and me not knowing too much of the area, we did some exploring, driving around, dropping into people's houses.
Yes, other people's houses.
Okay, I'll 'fess up. After we picked up the blue car (essentially to wipe the rust off the rotors as it's been sitting for a few weeks), we drove around and went to open houses (i.e. houses for sale where you can just drop in at certain scheduled hours). We stopped at virtually all the houses for which we saw signs, except for one that we realized was priced in the millions and not the hundreds of thousands.
Nothing really grabbed our attention although a few houses seemed really nice. Unfortunately, "nice" doesn't mean it had what we wanted, it simply meant the house was really nice. It's like me looking at a really nice 61 cm bike. Really nice, fine, but I need something about 10 cm shorter. Likewise, we found nice houses with no basement, no yard, or not enough garage space. One house, a "stop on a lark" house, was pretty big (about 4000 square feet), complete with a home gym, enormous kitchen, tiled inground pool, all sorts of fancy things including an intercom, and even a sauna.
It was also about 50% over our budget.
But the agent wouldn't let us know that - she firmly stated that she'll give us the paperwork (various papers describing the property) after the walk through. So we suffered through a walk through of a somewhat aging big house. Finally we got the papers - and the asking price on the house.
Granted, it wasn't as bad as we thought, but it was still way high.
I was trying to think of a way to politely end our charade when I heard the future missus tell the anxious agent, "Well, it seems like a really nice house but it's a bit small for our needs. We were really thinking of a four bedroom, not a three bedroom."
Cheeky, eh?
We felt bad about that so the future missus called our agent (who knew that house's agent) and mentioned that we'd dropped by in case the house agent started making noise about a couple looking at houses larger than 4000 square feet.
We had stopped at other houses. At one the agent left a note on the door - "Please look around, if you have any questions call me." It was scrawled in something resembling a 2nd grader's handwriting using perhaps a nail polish brush. It was no cheap house either, but it was on a very busy street. I can't imagine this helped sell the house.
I realized that there are a lot of odd houses out there. I suppose it's the way they age, a fashion thing. If I dressed up in Miami Vice stuff people would look at me oddly - but 20 years ago, I'd have been "cool". The same goes for these houses.
After house shopping we went to a somewhat local shop named Benidorm. I wanted to check out a few things including the World Championship Jersey there. I also figured they'd sell Sidi shoe parts - my turn buckle thing fell apart (the spring metal "pin" partially fell out, I lost the buckle part, and then the rest of the turn part fell off). I ordered one and watched as the guy behind the counter filled out a "special order form".
I used to have them just like it.
Good to know things still work the way they used to work.
While we were waiting at the counter I looked around for the Jersey. Lo and behold it was next to my head!
I read the pictures describing the Jersey (won by Jan Bolland in a TTT). The Worlds were held in Benidorm, Spain.
Ah, so that's where the weird name came from.
The Sidi things will be in at some point, which is fine. I have other shoes and I should probably make sure they're set up for the Look Keos I have since, if I actually start riding outside in inclement weather, it'll be nice to have three or more usable sets of Sidis. Right now I have one set (the turn buckle ones). I have one set (Zetas) which has a cracked cleat (over-zealous ham fisted mechanic... a.k.a. moi) and one set (Genius 5s) with my old SPD-R cleats on them (but otherwise in perfect shape). I'll mount some extra cleats on the G5s, put new uncracked cleats on the Zetas, and then I'll have three sets of shoes. This way I can ride in the rain and not obsess over drying out the shoes in time for the next ride.
Before we left, I asked for a couple catalogs - Cannondale's and Felt's. Normally I don't do such a thing since catalogs are typically in short supply and sometimes expensive. But I felt the need to catch up on Cannondale (they're local to the Bethel Spring Series) and Benidorm had a sub 15 pound Cannondale Super Six hanging just inside the front door to the shop. Felt is a different story - they sponsor Slipstream (a team that gives me better feelings than most others), the pictures of the Felts in Road Bike Action make the bike completely undesirable, but when I saw the bikes in person, well, they were cool. So I asked for a Felt catalog.
They have this interesting full suspension link thing which is supposed to counteract rear suspension bobbing. It's intriguing enough that I might have to go test ride a bike.
In the meantime, I've been doing some other stuff for my bikes. I went on eBay and picked up some crit bars (an extra - now I have one extra). If any more pop up, I'll probably buy the next one or two I see. Being soft, normal aluminum, these don't crack very easily and I expect them to last a while. I'll probably explore some new bars too so that when the world's supply of crit bars dries up, I'll be able to use something else.
I also picked up a track bar so my Riggio (or whatever my track bike ends up being) will have a proper track bar, not a left over Modolo forearm-bruising anatomic bar.
If I get my track act together, I'll eventually get proper wheels for the thing too.
I've been exploring getting fit in other ways too. The future missus and I walk regularly and on the days I feel a bit antsy, I'll actually run for a bit (a mile is a full "bit" in my dictionary). Today my shins are a bit sore but I ran to try and keep my heart rate up, not to try and preserve my legs. The problem is my heart rate doesn't go up easily so I have to run kind of hard to raise it. My non-running legs don't enjoy that too much so I'll have to stick to walking for a bit.
Finally we have one very big event coming up. My birthday.
Haha.
Okay, that's coming up too, but the big event is our wedding. We've been working out some of the details on that, finalizing things, and trying to make sure it'll run without a hitch. A lot of thought and planning is narrowing down to the early October date.
And now that I mention it, my birthday is coming up also, on this upcoming Sunday. The future missus is planning a get together for Saturday so that should be fun.
In the meantime I'll be doing my off season "general fitness" type things, getting my gear in gear, and looking at the Cannondale and Felt catalogs I picked up at Benidorm.
No wonder I usually get sick out there.
Anyway, with a new town, distance from friends and family, and me not knowing too much of the area, we did some exploring, driving around, dropping into people's houses.
Yes, other people's houses.
Okay, I'll 'fess up. After we picked up the blue car (essentially to wipe the rust off the rotors as it's been sitting for a few weeks), we drove around and went to open houses (i.e. houses for sale where you can just drop in at certain scheduled hours). We stopped at virtually all the houses for which we saw signs, except for one that we realized was priced in the millions and not the hundreds of thousands.
Nothing really grabbed our attention although a few houses seemed really nice. Unfortunately, "nice" doesn't mean it had what we wanted, it simply meant the house was really nice. It's like me looking at a really nice 61 cm bike. Really nice, fine, but I need something about 10 cm shorter. Likewise, we found nice houses with no basement, no yard, or not enough garage space. One house, a "stop on a lark" house, was pretty big (about 4000 square feet), complete with a home gym, enormous kitchen, tiled inground pool, all sorts of fancy things including an intercom, and even a sauna.
It was also about 50% over our budget.
But the agent wouldn't let us know that - she firmly stated that she'll give us the paperwork (various papers describing the property) after the walk through. So we suffered through a walk through of a somewhat aging big house. Finally we got the papers - and the asking price on the house.
Granted, it wasn't as bad as we thought, but it was still way high.
I was trying to think of a way to politely end our charade when I heard the future missus tell the anxious agent, "Well, it seems like a really nice house but it's a bit small for our needs. We were really thinking of a four bedroom, not a three bedroom."
Cheeky, eh?
We felt bad about that so the future missus called our agent (who knew that house's agent) and mentioned that we'd dropped by in case the house agent started making noise about a couple looking at houses larger than 4000 square feet.
We had stopped at other houses. At one the agent left a note on the door - "Please look around, if you have any questions call me." It was scrawled in something resembling a 2nd grader's handwriting using perhaps a nail polish brush. It was no cheap house either, but it was on a very busy street. I can't imagine this helped sell the house.
I realized that there are a lot of odd houses out there. I suppose it's the way they age, a fashion thing. If I dressed up in Miami Vice stuff people would look at me oddly - but 20 years ago, I'd have been "cool". The same goes for these houses.
After house shopping we went to a somewhat local shop named Benidorm. I wanted to check out a few things including the World Championship Jersey there. I also figured they'd sell Sidi shoe parts - my turn buckle thing fell apart (the spring metal "pin" partially fell out, I lost the buckle part, and then the rest of the turn part fell off). I ordered one and watched as the guy behind the counter filled out a "special order form".
I used to have them just like it.
Good to know things still work the way they used to work.
While we were waiting at the counter I looked around for the Jersey. Lo and behold it was next to my head!
I read the pictures describing the Jersey (won by Jan Bolland in a TTT). The Worlds were held in Benidorm, Spain.
Ah, so that's where the weird name came from.
The Sidi things will be in at some point, which is fine. I have other shoes and I should probably make sure they're set up for the Look Keos I have since, if I actually start riding outside in inclement weather, it'll be nice to have three or more usable sets of Sidis. Right now I have one set (the turn buckle ones). I have one set (Zetas) which has a cracked cleat (over-zealous ham fisted mechanic... a.k.a. moi) and one set (Genius 5s) with my old SPD-R cleats on them (but otherwise in perfect shape). I'll mount some extra cleats on the G5s, put new uncracked cleats on the Zetas, and then I'll have three sets of shoes. This way I can ride in the rain and not obsess over drying out the shoes in time for the next ride.
Before we left, I asked for a couple catalogs - Cannondale's and Felt's. Normally I don't do such a thing since catalogs are typically in short supply and sometimes expensive. But I felt the need to catch up on Cannondale (they're local to the Bethel Spring Series) and Benidorm had a sub 15 pound Cannondale Super Six hanging just inside the front door to the shop. Felt is a different story - they sponsor Slipstream (a team that gives me better feelings than most others), the pictures of the Felts in Road Bike Action make the bike completely undesirable, but when I saw the bikes in person, well, they were cool. So I asked for a Felt catalog.
They have this interesting full suspension link thing which is supposed to counteract rear suspension bobbing. It's intriguing enough that I might have to go test ride a bike.
In the meantime, I've been doing some other stuff for my bikes. I went on eBay and picked up some crit bars (an extra - now I have one extra). If any more pop up, I'll probably buy the next one or two I see. Being soft, normal aluminum, these don't crack very easily and I expect them to last a while. I'll probably explore some new bars too so that when the world's supply of crit bars dries up, I'll be able to use something else.
I also picked up a track bar so my Riggio (or whatever my track bike ends up being) will have a proper track bar, not a left over Modolo forearm-bruising anatomic bar.
If I get my track act together, I'll eventually get proper wheels for the thing too.
I've been exploring getting fit in other ways too. The future missus and I walk regularly and on the days I feel a bit antsy, I'll actually run for a bit (a mile is a full "bit" in my dictionary). Today my shins are a bit sore but I ran to try and keep my heart rate up, not to try and preserve my legs. The problem is my heart rate doesn't go up easily so I have to run kind of hard to raise it. My non-running legs don't enjoy that too much so I'll have to stick to walking for a bit.
Finally we have one very big event coming up. My birthday.
Haha.
Okay, that's coming up too, but the big event is our wedding. We've been working out some of the details on that, finalizing things, and trying to make sure it'll run without a hitch. A lot of thought and planning is narrowing down to the early October date.
And now that I mention it, my birthday is coming up also, on this upcoming Sunday. The future missus is planning a get together for Saturday so that should be fun.
In the meantime I'll be doing my off season "general fitness" type things, getting my gear in gear, and looking at the Cannondale and Felt catalogs I picked up at Benidorm.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Racing - Photo show from Nutmeg Classic
So it's not really racing. But there's now a photo montage of the Nutmeg Classic engagement shoot (scroll down for the link). As my finacee put it, "There's a lot of bikes!"
I see a lot of friends racing out there - long time racer Jim M (we were racing together over 20 years ago), my friend Abdul, and the helmet-cam-helmet lender and all around good guy Kyle Wolfe. There are others too, like Rob in a post race chat, his dirty CCC jersey (post-55 gallon drum impact) pictured in vivid detail. Tons more too but I'll let people pick themselves out.
Some pictures (and a lot of other ones) of the same day are up at Matt's site. You might see some of the same faces in those shots as well.
I see a lot of friends racing out there - long time racer Jim M (we were racing together over 20 years ago), my friend Abdul, and the helmet-cam-helmet lender and all around good guy Kyle Wolfe. There are others too, like Rob in a post race chat, his dirty CCC jersey (post-55 gallon drum impact) pictured in vivid detail. Tons more too but I'll let people pick themselves out.
Some pictures (and a lot of other ones) of the same day are up at Matt's site. You might see some of the same faces in those shots as well.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Racing - Nutmeg Classic - Engagement Pics
So a few weeks ago I did the Nutmeg Classic. I mentioned the engagement pictures and the photographer Matthew Wagner that would be there. Well, he has a blog where he previews things and here are some of the shots.
You know, when someone who knows what they're doing takes pictures, it shows.
He captures us, well,kissing (M30's behind us I think). He gets my grubby fingers frantically putting my camcorder into my CamelBak. And he gets the CamelBak on my somewhat round back.
I normally wear a red-white-blue Rudy helmet but I forgot it. As mentioned in the video credits, I used Kyle's silver helmet, he of the Target Training team. It was a bit small for my egg head but it held my helmet cam fine.
Finally, Matthew gets my favorite "AKI" gloves and cap - I pulled these out of my "save this stuff" bag just for this race.
I allude to a secret mission on this day as well. I hope to get the results of this mission in the next week or so. If things work out, I'll reveal my mission - and I won't have to kill everyone that knows either.
Stay tuned!
You know, when someone who knows what they're doing takes pictures, it shows.
He captures us, well,kissing (M30's behind us I think). He gets my grubby fingers frantically putting my camcorder into my CamelBak. And he gets the CamelBak on my somewhat round back.
I normally wear a red-white-blue Rudy helmet but I forgot it. As mentioned in the video credits, I used Kyle's silver helmet, he of the Target Training team. It was a bit small for my egg head but it held my helmet cam fine.
Finally, Matthew gets my favorite "AKI" gloves and cap - I pulled these out of my "save this stuff" bag just for this race.
I allude to a secret mission on this day as well. I hope to get the results of this mission in the next week or so. If things work out, I'll reveal my mission - and I won't have to kill everyone that knows either.
Stay tuned!
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Racing - Nutmeg Classic
So today was the Nutmeg Classic, (sort of) part of the Nutmeg State Games. The Games technically start later but this race is sort of a peninsula event for the State Games - it's like having the Summer Olympics start in Beijing start on August 8th but they do the 50 meter sprint in June.
Although the race itself is an annual goal of mine, we had a second reason to go - the "engagement" shoot for our wedding. We decided with our photographer Matthew that it would be an interesting venue for an informal shoot. We initially met him at his home/office a while back and took an immediate liking to him. His photography impressed us, his questions made us think about what we wanted, and, after a 30 second "You like him?" "Yeah, you?" "Yeah" discussion we wrote him a check.
We met up with him and he laid out a plan of action. There'd be the "sappy" stuff (holding hands, sitting somewhere together, kissing, all the stuff that make 3rd grade boys go "Ewwww"). There'd be the race shots. And, secretly, I hoped that perhaps there'd be a podium shot or something like that. That was a pipe dream but hey, if you don't dream...
We set out to do the sappy shots but were held up as all sorts of guys were saying hi to me (and my fiancee). One guy who bought a Davidson bike from me 15 years ago said hi, mentioned the bike, and mentioned wanting to restore it. Scary thing is that I instantly remembered the bike (a frost blue two tone job) and him (he looks sort of like John Howard).
After a few more hellos and how's-it-goings, Matthew commented on how tight knit the cycling seemed. I hadn't thought of it that way but his words put clarity to what I always knew. The racing world is very small, very intimate. And by definition, it's important to respect the others. If you burn bridges in a tight community, well, you end up not in that community.
Anyway, we finally broke free of all our social obligations and got down to some photography stuff. We walked hand in hand, we sat on a wall together, and for the finale, we have some cool shots of us making out as the M30 field raced behind us.
That was the first mission.
The second was the race. I had two tasks in the race - try and get to the left so Matthew could take a shot and try, try and finish the race up front with good video and power data, and finally, as extra credit, to try and cross the line as a top 3 Connecticut racer.
I was a bit rushed in my warm-up (what else is new) and did an easy three laps of the traditional warm-up loop at New Britain. One lap I held an open Coke can in my hand so it was really easy - and that was the last of my warm-up laps. I headed to the grassy start/finish area to meet up with my fiancee, Matthew, and get the helmet cam gear I'd dropped off.
I rigged the system with a borrowed helmet (thanks to Kyle, the TargeTraining U25 manager) as the 3's lined up and rode to a basically filled start line. I was about to snake my way to the back when the promoter asked the 2006 Category 3 Connecticut Criterium Champion to come to the front.
Oh.
That would be me :)
Just to make things clear, the promoter announced my name too. So I turned my bike around and planted myself in front of the rest of the racers. Actually I inadvertently planted myself in front of one of the favorites of the race. He joking told me that I better get going fast else he'd run me over.
Right.
I usually start from behind the field - this way I can relax and not worry about lining up 20 minutes before the race (because, 20 minutes before the race, I'm usually rushing to the car to change).
The other thing it lets me do is start with no pressure of getting into the pedals. When I was a Junior (we're going back to about the time bicycles were invented - at least the current iteration of them) my young mentor Ken told me I should practice getting into the pedals. He told me races could be lost if you don't get into the pedals fast enough.
Yeah, whatever. I was 14 and knew everything.
Then we went to the 1983 National Criterium Championships. And at the Intermediate start (12-14 year olds) one unfortunate racer fell over at the start. About 30 of the 60 racers fell over with him. And the other 30 took off.
Race over.
I started religiously practicing clipping in (toe clips and straps at that time). It got to the point where I could have one foot on the ground then virtually sprint away from the line - it would take me maybe 30 degrees of pedal stroke before I was in the pedals.
That practice translated to clipless pedals. But this was the first time in a long time that I was starting in front of everyone else. I was a bit leery. The officials got out of the way and told us to go. And I did. And thankfully I got into my pedals right away.
The second part of the photography plan was to try and get a shot with me in the race and my fiancee cheering me on. He had a remote flash and was doing some fancy technical things - trying to flash fill both of us at one time. I told him it's 30 laps so he has 30 tries. But after worming over to the left side for the first 6 or 7 laps (I even asked a guy to let me go left and he was nice enough to let me ease through), I realized I was using some precious go-juice that would leave me a bit short at the end. So I drifted into the middle of the field and hoped Matthew could make something of it.
I checked my heart rate only twice during the race - once near the start it read 173 and I didn't want to know any more than that. The other time, at the top of the hill half way through the race, it read 157.
I was fine.
Problem was my muscles felt a bit crampy. I could feel the warning twinges rippling through my calves and quads. So I let myself drift all the way to the back of the field and tried to stretch things out. I did a few tricks I use to try and combat potential cramps. I put it in a big gear and pedaled a bit slower. I stretched out. I coasted as much as I could. I drank some water.
Eventually though the race got into the single digit laps. And eventually I'd have to move up. I have to check the tape but I remember one guy looking at me, a guy I race with frequently, one who says hi and all that, and he looked to his side at me and then in front at the gaps there.
And moved over.
I flew into the gap, flew between other racers, and suddenly I'd moved up about 30 or 40 racers.
I was back in the hunt.
At about three to go, I saw the aforementioned favorite rally his team to the front. A guy behind me told someone else "There goes Mr. Cipollini and his lead out train". Perhaps a bit sarcastic but the fact remained that his team had seven guys at the front of this race. No one else did. Impressive.
They were off to the right. To their left and behind them, things were chaotic. I don't remember such a squirrelly race there in a long time. Guys were cutting corners with riders to their inside. One guy switched two lanes over without a glance - and almost took down the field behind him. And it was tight. I was in contact with one guy, I had to brake hard a couple times, and all in all it was a dicey final three laps.
With two to go I knew I had to be in position on the next lap. The twinges faded into the background. The adrenaline was going. And I felt like I could give it a good go. At one to go I managed to make some moves so that I ended up perhaps 15 riders back streaming through the last turn.
I followed wheels a bit and, like last year, moved left. Usually if the right is jammed up, I can fly by everyone on the left. And so it was. I saw nothing but clear road, my momentum carrying me past the riders who were inexplicably easing a hair. And I hadn't even jumped. My legs felt like they could spin huge gears. And I thought, heck, this might be it. I mentally prepared to jump - I usually shift up a gear as I stomp the pedal. My thumb went to the Ergo lever.
Then the rider two in front of me started slewing sideways. He beat me last year (he actually won), he's a multi-time National Cross Champ (the "main" one, not the Masters, although he's won those too), and he's a maestro at bike handling.
If he is going sideways some bad things were going down next to him.
He slammed onto the ground, his sort-of-disk wheel making a horrible sound as it slid along at 35 mph or so. Guys to his right were doing their best to take out garbage cans, sign posts, trees, curbs, and other racers.
Not where I want to be.
I went left, barely missed a 55 gallon drum (garbage can), and coasted onto the very soft and squirrelly feeling sand next to the road. I saw I could get back on the road after a few seconds, did so, and went a pedal stroke or two. For some reason I sat up - perhaps in shock, I don't know - but for whatever reason, I coasted. And a few guys went by me. Thinking about it now, if I'd been in the motivational groove from a year or two back, I'd have sprinted on the sand and back onto the road. But that wasn't the case.
End result - 11th in the race. What hurt was that after the race I looked ahead and could see only NY and Massachusetts racers. I started hoping that I might have lucked out into a Connecticut podium position. Having hopes dashed is worse than not having that hope in the first place. And that's what happened.
I was the fourth Connecticut racer across the line.
But I finally finished near the front of a race this year. And felt like I could slice and dice with the best of them.
After the race Matthew followed us around like one of those paparazzi photogs. It was pretty cool actually, as it was just for a few hours that we had this shadow. Everyone was talking about the race (that pre-race favorite was disqualified for causing the stack-up in the sprint). And Matthew caught that spontaneous excitement in imagery.
Anyway, Matthew also rides a bit and he also blogs. So that makes him pretty cool in our eyes. We also had a lot of fun working with him. We managed to introduce him to Matt, our DJ (who also designed the kit and races Cat 2). So it was like a pre-wedding meet of Matts.
One he'd left, we searched out some of the teams that hadn't received their trophies from the Bethel Spring Series. We gave one team TargeTraining so many trophies they had to put their wheels on the roof of their car. Another, Connecticut Coast Cycling, also got a bunch. And we gave the third woman overall her hard earned trophy (well, we gave it to her husband - she was racing at that moment).
Later on I said to my fiancee that perhaps I should have sprinted after I got back on the pavement. She looked at me with one of those looks.
Alright, I'll admit it. 11th is not bad. When I started racing I simply wanted to finish a race. And I didn't place in a "real" race in forever.
Now an 11th is "Maybe I should have gone a bit harder."
All in all a good day. I was upright at the finish, I got some nice tape, and the future missus and I had a really good day together.
Although the race itself is an annual goal of mine, we had a second reason to go - the "engagement" shoot for our wedding. We decided with our photographer Matthew that it would be an interesting venue for an informal shoot. We initially met him at his home/office a while back and took an immediate liking to him. His photography impressed us, his questions made us think about what we wanted, and, after a 30 second "You like him?" "Yeah, you?" "Yeah" discussion we wrote him a check.
We met up with him and he laid out a plan of action. There'd be the "sappy" stuff (holding hands, sitting somewhere together, kissing, all the stuff that make 3rd grade boys go "Ewwww"). There'd be the race shots. And, secretly, I hoped that perhaps there'd be a podium shot or something like that. That was a pipe dream but hey, if you don't dream...
We set out to do the sappy shots but were held up as all sorts of guys were saying hi to me (and my fiancee). One guy who bought a Davidson bike from me 15 years ago said hi, mentioned the bike, and mentioned wanting to restore it. Scary thing is that I instantly remembered the bike (a frost blue two tone job) and him (he looks sort of like John Howard).
After a few more hellos and how's-it-goings, Matthew commented on how tight knit the cycling seemed. I hadn't thought of it that way but his words put clarity to what I always knew. The racing world is very small, very intimate. And by definition, it's important to respect the others. If you burn bridges in a tight community, well, you end up not in that community.
Anyway, we finally broke free of all our social obligations and got down to some photography stuff. We walked hand in hand, we sat on a wall together, and for the finale, we have some cool shots of us making out as the M30 field raced behind us.
That was the first mission.
The second was the race. I had two tasks in the race - try and get to the left so Matthew could take a shot and try, try and finish the race up front with good video and power data, and finally, as extra credit, to try and cross the line as a top 3 Connecticut racer.
I was a bit rushed in my warm-up (what else is new) and did an easy three laps of the traditional warm-up loop at New Britain. One lap I held an open Coke can in my hand so it was really easy - and that was the last of my warm-up laps. I headed to the grassy start/finish area to meet up with my fiancee, Matthew, and get the helmet cam gear I'd dropped off.
I rigged the system with a borrowed helmet (thanks to Kyle, the TargeTraining U25 manager) as the 3's lined up and rode to a basically filled start line. I was about to snake my way to the back when the promoter asked the 2006 Category 3 Connecticut Criterium Champion to come to the front.
Oh.
That would be me :)
Just to make things clear, the promoter announced my name too. So I turned my bike around and planted myself in front of the rest of the racers. Actually I inadvertently planted myself in front of one of the favorites of the race. He joking told me that I better get going fast else he'd run me over.
Right.
I usually start from behind the field - this way I can relax and not worry about lining up 20 minutes before the race (because, 20 minutes before the race, I'm usually rushing to the car to change).
The other thing it lets me do is start with no pressure of getting into the pedals. When I was a Junior (we're going back to about the time bicycles were invented - at least the current iteration of them) my young mentor Ken told me I should practice getting into the pedals. He told me races could be lost if you don't get into the pedals fast enough.
Yeah, whatever. I was 14 and knew everything.
Then we went to the 1983 National Criterium Championships. And at the Intermediate start (12-14 year olds) one unfortunate racer fell over at the start. About 30 of the 60 racers fell over with him. And the other 30 took off.
Race over.
I started religiously practicing clipping in (toe clips and straps at that time). It got to the point where I could have one foot on the ground then virtually sprint away from the line - it would take me maybe 30 degrees of pedal stroke before I was in the pedals.
That practice translated to clipless pedals. But this was the first time in a long time that I was starting in front of everyone else. I was a bit leery. The officials got out of the way and told us to go. And I did. And thankfully I got into my pedals right away.
The second part of the photography plan was to try and get a shot with me in the race and my fiancee cheering me on. He had a remote flash and was doing some fancy technical things - trying to flash fill both of us at one time. I told him it's 30 laps so he has 30 tries. But after worming over to the left side for the first 6 or 7 laps (I even asked a guy to let me go left and he was nice enough to let me ease through), I realized I was using some precious go-juice that would leave me a bit short at the end. So I drifted into the middle of the field and hoped Matthew could make something of it.
I checked my heart rate only twice during the race - once near the start it read 173 and I didn't want to know any more than that. The other time, at the top of the hill half way through the race, it read 157.
I was fine.
Problem was my muscles felt a bit crampy. I could feel the warning twinges rippling through my calves and quads. So I let myself drift all the way to the back of the field and tried to stretch things out. I did a few tricks I use to try and combat potential cramps. I put it in a big gear and pedaled a bit slower. I stretched out. I coasted as much as I could. I drank some water.
Eventually though the race got into the single digit laps. And eventually I'd have to move up. I have to check the tape but I remember one guy looking at me, a guy I race with frequently, one who says hi and all that, and he looked to his side at me and then in front at the gaps there.
And moved over.
I flew into the gap, flew between other racers, and suddenly I'd moved up about 30 or 40 racers.
I was back in the hunt.
At about three to go, I saw the aforementioned favorite rally his team to the front. A guy behind me told someone else "There goes Mr. Cipollini and his lead out train". Perhaps a bit sarcastic but the fact remained that his team had seven guys at the front of this race. No one else did. Impressive.
They were off to the right. To their left and behind them, things were chaotic. I don't remember such a squirrelly race there in a long time. Guys were cutting corners with riders to their inside. One guy switched two lanes over without a glance - and almost took down the field behind him. And it was tight. I was in contact with one guy, I had to brake hard a couple times, and all in all it was a dicey final three laps.
With two to go I knew I had to be in position on the next lap. The twinges faded into the background. The adrenaline was going. And I felt like I could give it a good go. At one to go I managed to make some moves so that I ended up perhaps 15 riders back streaming through the last turn.
I followed wheels a bit and, like last year, moved left. Usually if the right is jammed up, I can fly by everyone on the left. And so it was. I saw nothing but clear road, my momentum carrying me past the riders who were inexplicably easing a hair. And I hadn't even jumped. My legs felt like they could spin huge gears. And I thought, heck, this might be it. I mentally prepared to jump - I usually shift up a gear as I stomp the pedal. My thumb went to the Ergo lever.
Then the rider two in front of me started slewing sideways. He beat me last year (he actually won), he's a multi-time National Cross Champ (the "main" one, not the Masters, although he's won those too), and he's a maestro at bike handling.
If he is going sideways some bad things were going down next to him.
He slammed onto the ground, his sort-of-disk wheel making a horrible sound as it slid along at 35 mph or so. Guys to his right were doing their best to take out garbage cans, sign posts, trees, curbs, and other racers.
Not where I want to be.
I went left, barely missed a 55 gallon drum (garbage can), and coasted onto the very soft and squirrelly feeling sand next to the road. I saw I could get back on the road after a few seconds, did so, and went a pedal stroke or two. For some reason I sat up - perhaps in shock, I don't know - but for whatever reason, I coasted. And a few guys went by me. Thinking about it now, if I'd been in the motivational groove from a year or two back, I'd have sprinted on the sand and back onto the road. But that wasn't the case.
End result - 11th in the race. What hurt was that after the race I looked ahead and could see only NY and Massachusetts racers. I started hoping that I might have lucked out into a Connecticut podium position. Having hopes dashed is worse than not having that hope in the first place. And that's what happened.
I was the fourth Connecticut racer across the line.
But I finally finished near the front of a race this year. And felt like I could slice and dice with the best of them.
After the race Matthew followed us around like one of those paparazzi photogs. It was pretty cool actually, as it was just for a few hours that we had this shadow. Everyone was talking about the race (that pre-race favorite was disqualified for causing the stack-up in the sprint). And Matthew caught that spontaneous excitement in imagery.
Anyway, Matthew also rides a bit and he also blogs. So that makes him pretty cool in our eyes. We also had a lot of fun working with him. We managed to introduce him to Matt, our DJ (who also designed the kit and races Cat 2). So it was like a pre-wedding meet of Matts.
One he'd left, we searched out some of the teams that hadn't received their trophies from the Bethel Spring Series. We gave one team TargeTraining so many trophies they had to put their wheels on the roof of their car. Another, Connecticut Coast Cycling, also got a bunch. And we gave the third woman overall her hard earned trophy (well, we gave it to her husband - she was racing at that moment).
Later on I said to my fiancee that perhaps I should have sprinted after I got back on the pavement. She looked at me with one of those looks.
Alright, I'll admit it. 11th is not bad. When I started racing I simply wanted to finish a race. And I didn't place in a "real" race in forever.
Now an 11th is "Maybe I should have gone a bit harder."
All in all a good day. I was upright at the finish, I got some nice tape, and the future missus and I had a really good day together.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Training - Everything But The Bike
So today was the house's official open house. This is when brokers come visit the house - essentially selling the house to the people who will sell the house.
This meant cleaning up. And it meant not really riding.
I snuck in a 90 minute late night ride on the trainer this week. I waited till everyone was asleep (my fiancee and the cats), went downstairs (cats promptly woke up and followed me), and started riding (cats scrammed out of the room when the bike rolls in). I focused on spinning since that's what suffers when I don't train. Instead of cruising along at 95-105 rpms, I slog at 75-85 rpms.
The PowerTap is good in that it graphs your cadence (and heart rate and speed and power). Coasting isn't good because the line drops to the bottom of the graph. It doesn't look good. I like graphs where the line starts at zero, goes up and down in some reasonable range, and then drops to zero at the end.
When I coast two big lines zero out. Power. Cadence.
I tried not to coast too much and ended up mildly successful. I don't recall my power but it was low - often in the low 100's. But I climbed off the bike with my body recalling what it's like to ride again. And that's what I wanted.
Work has been really busy recently and today was no exception. I got back late, tired, had dinner, and just finished up work. Last night I had to work late too (past 10 or so) and joked about how my job is a guaranteed form of birth control.
That and a great way to kill a week or two of training.
I have proof. I have no kids. And my form is, well, faltering.
Anyway, two days before a race is usually a rest day. With a rest week or four (essentially one ride a week), I was thinking any riding would be better than none. Nonetheless, it'll be a day off. Tomorrow I'll spin again in preparation for the race.
The interesting thing about this upcoming race day is that we're also having our "pre-enagagement" photographs taken. Wedding things. I never thought I'd mix weddings and bike racing but I am. And it'll happen at one of the more significant races (for me) - the Connecticut Crit Championships, a.k.a. the Nutmeg Stage Games. I hope that both go well - I don't want to mess up either.
To top it off, I have a true motivation to have a good cam setup as well as use the PowerTap. If this works out I'll explain it but suffice it to say that it's a really intriguing mission and I hope I can accomplish it well.
Now for a good night's sleep.
This meant cleaning up. And it meant not really riding.
I snuck in a 90 minute late night ride on the trainer this week. I waited till everyone was asleep (my fiancee and the cats), went downstairs (cats promptly woke up and followed me), and started riding (cats scrammed out of the room when the bike rolls in). I focused on spinning since that's what suffers when I don't train. Instead of cruising along at 95-105 rpms, I slog at 75-85 rpms.
The PowerTap is good in that it graphs your cadence (and heart rate and speed and power). Coasting isn't good because the line drops to the bottom of the graph. It doesn't look good. I like graphs where the line starts at zero, goes up and down in some reasonable range, and then drops to zero at the end.
When I coast two big lines zero out. Power. Cadence.
I tried not to coast too much and ended up mildly successful. I don't recall my power but it was low - often in the low 100's. But I climbed off the bike with my body recalling what it's like to ride again. And that's what I wanted.
Work has been really busy recently and today was no exception. I got back late, tired, had dinner, and just finished up work. Last night I had to work late too (past 10 or so) and joked about how my job is a guaranteed form of birth control.
That and a great way to kill a week or two of training.
I have proof. I have no kids. And my form is, well, faltering.
Anyway, two days before a race is usually a rest day. With a rest week or four (essentially one ride a week), I was thinking any riding would be better than none. Nonetheless, it'll be a day off. Tomorrow I'll spin again in preparation for the race.
The interesting thing about this upcoming race day is that we're also having our "pre-enagagement" photographs taken. Wedding things. I never thought I'd mix weddings and bike racing but I am. And it'll happen at one of the more significant races (for me) - the Connecticut Crit Championships, a.k.a. the Nutmeg Stage Games. I hope that both go well - I don't want to mess up either.
To top it off, I have a true motivation to have a good cam setup as well as use the PowerTap. If this works out I'll explain it but suffice it to say that it's a really intriguing mission and I hope I can accomplish it well.
Now for a good night's sleep.
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