Fruits of your Labors

Snowshoeing through Virginia Meisner Sno-park.

My workshop, where the magic happens.

These last two weeks have been a lesson in simplicity. This type of lifestyle is definitely one I can get used to. We all do our part and we help each other out in many ways. I am so thankful. Rather than piping oil or gas in to heat our home, there is a fireplace that we constantly tend to. We chop the wood ourselves. We go out in the snow to restock the wood pile on the deck.

I have been tightening my belt and my pockets are shallow, but that does not mean that fun can't be had. I have not driven my van since I got here. Instead, every errand and every trip has been by bicycle. There is a great feeling of satisfaction getting where you need to go under your own power.

There are many adventures to be had in the snow. Rather than buy lift tickets to get a ride up the mountain, we climbed up ourselves with snowshoes strapped to our feet, snowboards in hand. Every next agonizing step was welcomed because that was just one more foot of descending on the return trip to the bottom. I have never ridden powder, nor have I ever ventured into the back country where the lines made are your own. As we hiked up, I was giddy with suspense as I mind-shredded my way through the trees that we walked by.

Once at the top, the landscape transformed to a harsh, wind-blown, vastness. The views we drank in were that much more awesome because we had arrived there by ourselves, with no help save for the encouragement and the excitement shared by our friends. I was nervous to begin the descent, having not ridden a snowboard in two years, and that was on grainy east-coast slop. We started down, and it took a few attempts to learn how to trim the board so that it planed over the snow, rather than plowed through it. Once I got that down, front leg boned out, weight on the back foot, I began to float and carve my way through the trees, yelping and yipping the whole way down. When I reached the bottom, I amazingly emerged from the woods right where our car was parked. I literally rode right to it. High fives all around and talk of the experience filled the car the whole ride home. It was the most amazing thing I have ever done.

I was surprised also by how good I felt. Nearly every day has held an adventure, whether it has been a snowshoe trek through the woods, or commuting around town on the bikes. There has really been no time to rest, except for the night. I am pleased by my level of fitness and will happily watch as I only become more fit. I even attended my first yoga class today.

It has been amazing so far and I love the satisfaction of the resulting payoff of so much hard work and collaboration when like-minded people work towards a common goal. The best things in life are free.

CX Nats

My athlete, out near the front

It has been an intense weekend as well as the few days leading up to the Cyclo-cross National Championships in Bend, OR. I arrived here in town only two days after completing the Bill Woodul Race Mechanics Clinic in Colorado Springs and now it was my chance to put everything I learned to use while taking on the role of being Laura Winberry's mechanic.

To sum up my first few days simply would be to say that it has been a whirlwind of introductions with some old, but many more new acquaintances. I'm at a place where someone can plug me in to the social pipeline! It's been difficult to remember so many names and even more difficult seeing those same people again and not remembering who they are, but I am getting better at that every day.

One introduction was more important than any other, and that was with Laura's race bike. It was paramount that every single part of that bike was checked over and tuned perfectly. Some issues are easy to pick out and remedy while others are more subjective, like brake lever feel and tire pressure. She understands her bike and can communicate well what she's experiencing, which then makes my job so much easier. We walked the course on Thursday and discussed the good lines and tire choice. I felt so pro! Working with Laura in a professional athlete/mechanic relationship has been a pleasure. We did a pre-ride on Friday just to get a feel, although the weather would change the course considerably by Sunday.

Applying much of what I learned at the clinic has helped me to provide the support necessary to make sure she had a positive experience on the bike and that her focus could be precisely on her own performance separate from the bike. One area where my education was most useful was minutes before call ups when Laura approached me in the pits after her warm up with a loose cleat. Naturally, an inability to safely get her foot in and out of the pedals could have dashed any chance she had at a solid performance. I kept a level head and didn't reveal the severity of our situation. So while she went to have embrocation applied to her legs, I used my legs to run around like a maniac trying to find some thread lock, teflon tape, or new cleat hardware. The guys from Shimano stepped up (no pun intended) and gave me new hardware for her cleats.

I thankfully found her in the Hutch's tent under the care of Marcel Russenberger and Paul Curley. I replaced the hardware and she made it to the starting line on time. I then returned to the pits where I stood at the ready on each half lap with a pit bike, though she had no need for it. I only yelled words of encouragement as she passed each time, which is a pretty important job in itself.

I got to talking with a few of the other mechanics in the pit. The guy next to me had an athlete also in the top 30 who was ahead of Laura. We waited for our riders to emerge from behind the ridge, and then we saw them together, side by side as Laura took the impossible line on a steep drop and made an incredible pass on the inside of the sharp right hander and then back up that same ridge into a swooping left and back down past pit lane! I was screaming my head off at this point! It was the greatest pass I had ever seen and she made it stick. After they passed, the mechanic turned to me and calmly said, "That was my girl she just passed." and I did one of those raised eyebrows "ah hah" faces, when in my mind I was saying, "FUCK YEAH!!! IN BOTH OF YOUR FACES!!!"

Laura went on to a great finish, succeeding in meeting her self-set goals, and told me afterwards that her bike was awesome. I have a deeply vested interest in her success and I see her potential, so I am ecstatic that I have her trust and was able to play such a vital role. We both put in our maximum efforts and we together produced a solid result. And to think this is only the beginning. By the way, her cleats held.

Oh and of course I got in on a little of that racing action, too. My race was on Saturday with the Masters 30-34 Men. It was cold, windy, snowing in the morning then changed to rain, and muddy, muddy, muddy! I started in the last row and finished almost last, but I felt great and had a blast out there. I cannot put into words how much I love the fact that the fans will cheer just as loud for the guys battling for last place as they do for the battle for the lead. The smell of brats on the grill and the beat of the marching bands' drums were even more fuel for the fire. I truly loved the experience.

There's me, 273, wishing a meteor would strike the Earth to end my suffering on lap 1.

This is that same drop where Laura made that amazing pass. Even I didn't take the inside line! Crazy!

The Amazing Journey Pt. 3

Leaving Colorado, I passed a cloud factory.

Somewhere along Rt. 13, somewhere in Wyoming

Rt. 20 in Oregon. This video just doesn't do it justice.

On the road again, snow-free roads at that, and on my way out of Colorado on Rt. 13 North into Wyoming. Up to this moment, I had never driven on a more beautiful road. It was two lanes wide and cut across the high desert at the foot of the Rocky Mountains themselves. I couldn't help but think how this lovely sight would not be seen and how everything amazing that was to come would not be had I not listened to my heart and dared to follow my dream. They were the first happy tears I have ever cried.

Passing through Wyoming and on into Idaho, the sun had set and temperatures began to drop below freezing. At first, the fog was only patchy and required a decrease in speed by about 10mph. But by about 9pm, as I climbed over some smaller mountain passes, I encountered something I had never seen before. Frozen fog. Although the roads were dry, I feared they would become icy thinking that that is how black ice forms. I would soon find out that that wasn't the worst thing that can come of frozen fog. All the while, the difference between humidity and temperature on either side of my windshield caused a haze that made it difficult to see through. I messed with my defroster and A/C settings to clear it up but nothing seemed to work. I passed a tanker truck and safely moved back into the right lane. When I hit the wipers to clear the spray from his wheels, it smeared all the dirt and the water formed a layer of ice on my windshield, making it even more difficult to see. I hit my washers thinking that it had some anti-ice formula in it, but what happened next was the scariest thing I have ever had happen to me. I hope my mom isn't reading this!

As soon as the washer fluid hit the window, it froze. The wipers then distributed it evenly, thus completely whiting out my windshield in seconds. I was still doing 60mph and could only see through a small slit at the bottom, just enough to be able to see the lines in the road. I hit my four ways and pulled over to the shoulder as the tanker sped by me. Coming to a stop, I couldn't believe what had just happened. I sat there until I was able to melt the ice off and exited the roadway at the next rest area.

I sat there and ate dinner, thinking about what happened and the danger in pressing on. I was headed for lower elevation, the fog was going away, and I really didn't want to cut my drive short because I didn't want to risk not reaching Bend by the next afternoon. Once again, I sat there thinking when I just fired up the engine again and rolled out of there. The rest of the night's drive went on without a hitch.

Two more hours and I reached Twin Falls, where I was sure I would find a Walmart. The expanse of lights ahead made me believe I would have no trouble finding this oasis of the open road. I drove directly into the center of town and began making right turns. Every third turn, I would go one more block so as to not go in circles, but to expand outwards in a spiraling fashion. I explored every corner of town until I had seen a Costco, a Lowe's, a Home Depot, a Kmart, a Target, and many other large stores, but no Walmart. I was just about to give up and head back to 84 and proceed to the next rest stop, when I saw the familiar looking edifice.

A trip inside to fill my water bottles for the next morning's coffee and I was back in my van making my bed for the night. It was cold, but I had been quite comfortable each night spent inside. I had accidentally ripped my sleeping bag near its zipper on the pedal of my bike and that opening allowed cold air to seep in, making me consciously aware of the coldness throughout the night. The wakeup process in these cases is long. It was about an hour and a half from the moment I woke up to the moment I was out of my bag and dressed. I made my coffee, filled up with gas, and hopped back on I-84 for the final leg of my journey.

Before, I said that Rt. 13 was the most beautiful road ever driven. That was until I took Rt. 20 across eastern Oregon and into Bend. My head was on a swivel as each curve revealed another snowy mountain, frozen river, or vast expanse of rolling white bumps. The highlight was the summit at Drinkwater Pass, where the sun shone through the low clouds turning everything a crazy shade of orange, and then dropping back below them revealing a beautiful view of the valley.

Rather than my friend Laura preparing dinner that evening, she called and said some people from Cyclocross Magazine were getting together for dinner and we were invited. I arrived at her house where there was a wonderful reunion and I was shown where I would be staying. Dinner with the CM people was an absolute blast. They were all so friendly and welcoming. What better way to spend my first night in a new town? The next few days we would see them at the races and around town and we were always greeted with smiles.

We've been pretty busy these last few days and I have been introduced to countless new people with whom I am continually impressed by the quality of their personalities. It's only been two full days spent here and I feel like I have been here a month because there is so much going on. I have this feeling of certainty that I have done the right thing and come to the right place. I have done everything I had set out to do. I am living my life. And I have never been happier.

This amazing journey has come to a close, though this very moment plans for a new journey are in the works. There are so many directions to go from here, but you can be sure it will be my heart that I will be following.

The Amazing Journey Pt. 2

A proud moment, Matty B checks out my bike. =)

The sleeping giant.

It's like the hanging gardens.

The chickens!

So when I last left you guys last, I was about to leave Ken and Sara in Denver and head back to Colorado Springs for the race mechanic clinic. It was held at the Olympic Training Center in the middle of town, fenced in and secure from the surrounding streets. My friends Matt and Eric from High Gear had flown in that morning and it was great to see some familiar faces.

After our reunion, we had time before our first class, so we hopped on our bikes and went on a recon mission around Springs to check things out. The first session was at 6pm and was just a chance for all the instructors and the students to introduce themselves. The next day would be the first of four days of the most intense instruction of race mechanics-related topics. Everything from bike washing to the athlete-mechanic relationship. Some of the biggest names in the cycling industry were there to pass on their knowledge to us aspiring mechanics.

The Olympic Training Center is an amazing facility where many of the country's top athletes reside so they can train in a controlled environment. Our classes limited us to only a few classrooms, but we had free reign over the cafeteria! Not only was it awesome to just walk up and take whatever we wanted, but the food was actually healthy. Each item had its full nutritional breakdown displayed before it, so the athletes were sure of what they were or weren't putting in their bodies. That stuff didn't interest me. I was more interested in the softserve machine and the do-it-yourself waffle irons. Whipped cream? Don't mind if I do!

Even though our physical time there was short, the amount of activity each day, as I look back, made it seem to have been longer. After the last session on Sunday morning, I had a meeting with the head dude of the clinic and the head dude of the European road program to discuss future job opportunities. By the time that was over, all of my new friends, as well as Matt and Eric, had all departed to catch their flights home. I sat in the dining area, watching a football game on the big screen, contemplating my next move.

It was a strange feeling, one I would imagine a college student feels on his last day on campus (I wouldn't know that exact feeling), knowing as soon as you stepped foot off that campus you could never turn back. And that your whole life was ahead of you. The latter feeling I felt very strongly. I had planned for nearly two years to arrive at this moment and that moment came and went so quickly. As was the way for most of the events that took place over these last two years, I just let my heart lead me wherever it wanted to go. As long as I listened to it, things were just seeming to work out like as if it was all a part of a preset plan.

I checked the weather a few times as I sat there, wondering if I should spend the night in my van there in town or continue West to my next way point. I stared blankly down at the table for a few minutes and then, as if lifted by some external force, I got up out of my chair and walked out the door. It was time to move on. Steamboat Springs lay 4 hours away in the high country and I had just enough time to get there before bedtime that night. A weather system was moving in and would dump snow in the passes. I didn't want to encounter any snow covered roads in my van and so far I was very lucky. I was granted fair weather all the way to Colorado, until the very night I arrived did a snowstorm hit. I was already safe inside the limits of the Walmart parking lot by then.

I arrived at Amy's house in Steamboat just after 11pm, after having climbed through Rabbit Ears Pass and descending down into the city limits. The passes were clear that night, but the next day a storm dumped about 4 inches of fresh powder. It was great to see Amy and her dogs Taina and Kayla, as well as Amy's sister, Erin, whom I didn't expect to be there. Amy and I took the dogs out for a snowshoe hike up a nearby mountain, then went bouldering at a friend's personal rock wall. To wrap up an eventful and fun-filled day, we all went to the hot springs for a soak. It was nice because it was still snowing as we sat in geothermally heated water.

I was concerned about the appropriate time to depart for my next and final leg of my journey. The next day would see sunny skies and temps above freezing, but only later in the day. I would need to wait until the roads cleared up before heading out of Steamboat. Amy tempted me to stay, and it was hard not to, but another weather system would be there soon and I feared if I didn't get out while I could, I may not get out for a while. It was important that I did leave on time because my next destination, and ultimately where I would be staying, was a two-day drive away.

Amy and Erin both had business to attend to at the mountain that morning, so I said my goodbye's early and had the rest of the morning to spend with the dogs. I sat on the couch with Taina sleeping next to me, checking and rechecking the weather forecast. Snow in the high country and fog later that night in Twin Falls, Idaho where I was headed. Just like the day before in the cafeteria, I just got up and made for the door. This time, my exodus was slowed by the long goodbyes given to the dogs, since I will miss them a lot and don't know when I will see them again. They didn't seem so concerned, except that I was prolonging their approach to a mid-morning nap.

In two days I would be in Bend, Oregon.