Signs of Fall

The time from the end of Cyclocross season to the first race of the new always seems like forever. The European season keeps you going for a while, with the world cup and Super Prestige studs battling through true cross weather in the early part of the year. The vicariousness ends in February however, with the Worlds taking place in a locale that more than likely you'll never visit.

A recent addition to the calendar, Barry-Roubaix has given a midwest 'crosser a early goal to shoot for. March is over soon and then it's just lonely cold, wet training rides to see a rider through. Sure, there's mountain biking, but I reached a level where I just can't be competitive without a lifestyle change.

So I wait, and I wait. Then, when the rides seem hotter than tolerable and the calendar says that I should start the hard stuff, intervals, longer 100% efforts, carrying your bike and such, unexpectedly, the first signs of fall appear. I'm riding along and I see it. The first wooly catepillar crossing the road. I don't usually have to dodge them as they are past my tire line, but unmistakable. The dark brown body, the black stripes, and the long bushy hair undulating their way across the road. Initially I just see one, but my heart knows what their presence mean. It isn't long before I have to maneuver around the creepy crawly. 

The next positive sign of an approaching 'cross season is one that requires a change in line of my bicycle. I'm still a little gun-shy with my mid summer crash due to loose-stone/chip & seal road maintenance that resulted in right side bruises, road rash tears, a shredded kit & broken helmet.The sign is something to be avoided, as it is hard, round, and when there are a lot of them, dangerous to try and ride through. This year, the sign hit me. When something falls out of the sky while your head is down and hits you in the helmet, it can be a little disconcerting. The knock required a slow down and a visual check to identify the "what the heck was that?' A blackened walnut was the culprit. Not nearly as thrilling as the owl I dodged in early spring, nor the low flying wild turkey that scared the bejubus out of me in June. Nonetheless, it was a solid indicator that my favorite season of the year is almost here, Cyclocross, or as the rest of you may know it, Fall. Hup, hup.


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photo courtesy: Richie Wireman

I attended your conversation last night at Coveleski Stadium. I heard about office politics, investment opportunities, old girl/boyfriends, and why your car broke down. I tried desperately to focus on the reason I was there, but the volume of your words rose quickly to overcome the sound originating from behind your turned back. Laughter was exaggerated to convince your mates that either their comments were "hilarious' or that your punchline was worthy of a physical expression of joy. You were not alone. Every lull, every nuanced moment in the music was overshadowed by a crowd that overwhelmingly seemed more interested in saying they were there or that they went to the show, than actually trying to listen to the music. For many, the efforts of two great bands still in their creative prime were lost in translation between their instruments and your ears. I don't know how you can go to a concert and not even turn around and give a cursory clap of approval. It was annoying, disrespectful and I don't know why you were there. I hope the next time, you stay home. Live music deserves more than you can contribute to its audience.

After Yo la Tengo finished their intriguing  hour-long set of pop, art noise and drone'y grooves, I used my years of concert training and moved close to the stage where the volume of your voice could not be heard above the amps and PAs. I spent the next 2 1/2 hours interacting with the headliners letting the drums fill my chest, the guitars spike my skin, and the musicianship inspire my soul. When I went home you didn't matter anymore.

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Stage 18 Recap, Saturday's Time Trial Preview

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Photo: © Roberto Bettini

Well, Mark got to kiss the pretty girls again after his stage win. His best sprint of this Tour. He had it won with 200 meters to go. An amazing display. Too bad he didn't get to kiss this pretty girl, who was attending the race in Bordeaux today.

Photo: © Roberto Bettini

Eight seconds ain't alot, but that's all that Andy Schleck needs to gain to regain the Yellow jersey in tomorrow's Time Trial. Conventional wisdom holds that Contador who starts last just behind Schleck, just needs to match the man in front of him. That might be harder to say than do with the pressure of the Yellow Jersey on his back and a very hungry Schleck trying to pull away. It should be a tremendous showdown. Don't miss it. Tom won't

Photo: © Roberto Bettini

Another battle to watch will be between 3rd and 4th place for the final podium spot between Sanchez and Menchov. Menchov should move into 3rd, but it will be another great reason to tune in.

Stage 17 Recap - Stage 18 Preview

Photo credit © Roberto Bettini

Celebrating 100 years in the Pyrenees stage 17 started with rain and cold with a peloton lined up with arm warmers and embrocation to ease the elements.The crappy weather made for terrific viewing and made it feel epic.

Early on, as he was trying to get through the team cars, 3rd place Samuel Sanchez, crashed hard and looked to be out of the Tour. Fortunately, he got back up and paced by his team, rejoined the race. Wearing the yellow jersey, Alberto Contador slowed the field's pace to ensure that Sanchez could catch up.

Carlos Sastre was having none of it though and was determined to use the last day in the mountains to improve his overall placing. It didn't do him any good though, not very smart racing, and he just stuck in no man's land on the climb of the Marie-Blanque. Because of the field slowing, the breakaway's advantage quickly shot up to over 9 minutes.

As usual, some protesters interfered with the stage with about 58km to go and slowed progress up the climb of the Col du Soulor. Apparently farmers just let them run free, these particular ones were marked with blue dye on top. Crazy sheep.

Everybody was all together as they entered the town of Gaubie, then Schleck went for it just before the 10 km at 10km to go flag. Initially dropped, Samuel Sanchez caught back on to a small select group containing 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th place, with Chris Horner (team Radioshack) in the mix. Contador, content to follow the diesel train of Schleck danced out of the saddle as Schleck continued to push the pace.  Kolobnev who broke away from his breakaway partners, could ride no harder and was quickly dispatched by the Yellow and White train.

5km on the attack and the also rans in the race were about 1:06 behind the two riders who had kept their eyes on each other for almost three weeks. Contador tested Andy with about 4k to go, but was answered quite handily.

Riding past streakers, crazy Basques', a bearded black santa, a masked whatever that was' in a yellow spandex body suit, and a dancing water bottle they continued to stamp out a vicious pace.  As the roads narrowed the tension continued and the battle set up for who was going to win a stage. Andy won it as he rounded the corner. Alberto and him shared a handshake and then later a hug and a smile. What a day. The tour might not be done until Saturday night however, as the time trial might be another battle royale.

American Chris Horner had a career day and Canadian Ryder Hesjedal emerged from the thick mist atop the Tourmalet to cross the line fourth. Pretty amazing.

Tomorrow's stage 18 is a dead flat, made for a field sprint. Look for Mark Cavendish to prove he can win without Mark Renshaw, since he got kicked out of the Tour for the headbutting affair.