American Cycling Fans, We Gotta Talk

    A friend of mine once won a bike race in Italy. It was a late season one-day whose profile could easily have been mistaken for the edge of a saw. The victory was both tactically savvy and dashing as this friend initiated a late breakaway in the final hour that got caught by a select group of leaders while cresting the penultimate climb. In the finale, he out-sprinted them all to the line. The race was called Tre Valli Varesine.

    Here's a similar story. A teammate of mine, Robin Carpenter, finished second in a French one day. Having been there, I can tell you this race was brutal; one of those affairs where I spent an exorbitant amount of time in the gutter contemplating why I didn't take up golf as a kid instead. This race was called Paris-Chauny. 

    What these two races have in common is that the average American cycling fan has probably never heard of them; and that's disappointing. For my friends it's disappointing because they had these incredible rides which went mostly unnoticed at home (fortunately both have enough self-confidence that they can live with this fact). At the same time, it's disappointing for American fans because they missed an opportunity to watch some really exciting bike racing while simultaneously cheering on their favorite riders or team. It's also disappointing because both of these scenarios could have been avoided.

    Personally, I don't blame American cycling fans for being in the dark about many of these lesser known European races. After all, watching a bike race in the States isn't as easy as sitting on the couch and turning on ESPN. Sure, in America you can watch a few marque events, such as the Tour de France, on NBC Sports but beyond these select races spoon fed to you with your normal cable package, access to racing isn't that obvious. This is changing though as many new streaming services have popped up in the past couple of years which give American fans the chance to watch races they previously couldn't. As someone who competes in many of these events, I can't endorse these services enough and am often plugging them to friends back home curious as to where they can watch me race. 

    Below is a collection of cycling resources I think every American cycling fan should be familiar with:

Global Cycling Network Race Pace

    If you've heard of GCN it's probably through their YouTube Channel. In addition, these guys have really stepped up their race coverage game the last few years and especially this year with the launch of GCN+. For something like $50 you get access to a ton of racing (both live and replays) through their app and website. I personally have a subscription to GCN Race Pass and think they're the best bang for your buck race coverage-wise. My first race of the year, the Clasica de Almeria, can be found here along with many of the races Rally competes in. Plus, Jeremy Powers is one of their presenters and you have to be a terrible human being to not like J-Pows.

ProCyclingStats

    Whether you're looking for results from the race that finished five minutes ago or you're curious as to who finished 48th in stage 16 of the 2001 Giro, these guys have you covered. It is actually amazing how quickly they get results up. Magic perhaps?

CyclingTips

    For the latest news CyclingTips is great at helping you stay in the loop. Many writers for CT live in Boulder so that might make me biased but if you check out the site I think you'd agree the content is pretty solid. They also have an eclectic family of podcasts including one by friend and fellow hot chocolate aficionado, Abby Mickey. 

    As the racing season picks up steam this summer I'll probably be referencing these resources a lot; especially when it comes to races I and the rest of my teammates will be competing in. If you are an American cycling fan looking to engage more with races beyond the Classics and Grand Tours then, again, I can't recommend GCN Race Pass enough. Even if it's just some random race in Belgium you've never heard of, I encourage you to watch. I promise you'll be entertained. 

Thanks for reading,

E

P.S. For all the bike nerds out there, our 2021 Felt race bikes were unveiled today and all I can say is they are FAST. 

A Day in the Life

     The apartment above me is having some remodeling done. Like clockwork, the crew starts at 7:30am on they don't stop until 5pm. I have no clue what exactly they're doing but whatever it is, it involves a lot of sanding, drilling, and jackhammering. It's loud but honestly, I couldn't care less. Even if it's shaking, it's just nice to have a long term roof over my head.

    Things are starting to feel more settled here. After a week of jumping from one Airbnb to the next, I've managed to move into my long term apartment; a spacious two bedroom near the Cathedral. The lowest point of last week definitely came when my Airbnb host messaged me at 7pm to say there was mistake in booking and that I would have to check out the next day by 10am. This kicked off a mad dash to not only find a new place but also one that would let me check-in early. Fortunately, demand these days for Airbnb's isn't all that high (I guess there's this pandemic going on) so finding a place wasn't very tortuous but for about an hour there I wanted to kill something.           

    Now that some sense of normalcy has entered my life, I've made a point of trying to settle into a daily routine; cyclists, after all, are creatures of habit. One of the more quirky means by which I maintain a day-to-day schedule is by making a to-do list the night before. A while back I read that one way to stick with the habit of making a to-do list is to always include something that you know will get done; that way you don't feel discouraged at the end of the day when nothing has been crossed off. In keeping with this, I always start my list with "wake up." I figure if I can't get this one thing done then not completing any of my others tasks is the least of my problems. So far, my success rate for this initial step is 100%. Gotta take the small victories where you can, I guess. 

    After waking up, my day starts with a cup of coffee and oatmeal if doing a true training ride or eggs with toast if just an easy spin. From there I check the news (briefly), read emails, write, take a few online spanish lessons, fold laundry if needed and answer messages from friends and family back stateside. Generally, just a low structured, somewhat slow start to my day. Around 9:30am, I do a bit of yoga to warm up for my ride and generally get out the door by 10am. Girona is similar to Colorado in that the mornings can be pretty cold but then warm up QUICK. Several times, I've made the mistake of starting a ride bundled only to have the thermometer jump by fifteen degrees in the first thirty minutes; not fun. Normally training can take anywhere from one to six hours and after getting back, I eat "lunch" (which can sometimes be as late as 4pm) and put my feet up. Despite the exhaustion of my job, being still is something I'm incredibly bad at and sitting down to rest requires conscious effort. If not, I'll just be up and about doing random things like cleaning the oven, sweeping or simply standing at the kitchen table. Both here and at home, lounging around and watching TV is rare for me. In the business of professional cycling we call this sort of laziness "recovering" but to me it's always been synonymous with boredom. 

    Before moving on, I'd like to acknowledge that there are probably some people reading this and thinking "wow, this is how this guy spends a work day!?" To those individuals, I'd just like to say, yeah, I get it; the luxury of my job isn't lost on me. When describing what I do to people outside the world of cycling, I often have to explain (more like convince) how simply resting is a major part of my job. Literally, I can take an hour long nap at noon, wake up and legitimately tell myself I've been "productive;" and the crazy thing is, that's a true statement! Again, the plushness of this gig isn't something I'm blind to.

    Anyway, for a short while after getting back I'll occupy my time with some small task such as a blog post or, as it just so happens given the time of year, prepping taxes; my favorite. This is also my chance to call family back home since everyone is now awake. Depending on the length of my training ride, this can occupy anywhere from a few hours to twenty minutes. Around sunset I make a point of going for a walk and buying dinner from the grocery store. Going at sunset is actually something I do on purpose. As a means of re-setting one's circadian rhythm, I think it's important for your body to be subjected to the stimulus of watching the sun set and darkness rise. I'm also of the opinion that walking does wonders for promoting blood flow and helping recovery. Again, I have a lot of weird quirks...

                                                                Cathedral at sunset

    At the grocery store I make a point to buy items that will be consumed for dinner that night, breakfast the next morning, and lunch the next afternoon. For the most part, I don't keep much more than a day or so worth of food in the apartment. Partly this is because most of the food I buy is perishable and also because I can't carry much more than that in a single trip; after all, it's not like I can load up my car with excess grocery bags. In general, food in Spain--especially produce--is exceptionally good compared to what you find back home. Fruits and vegetables tend to stick to what's in season and are grown fairly locally. Chances are, anything from the market around the corner here would fetch a pretty penny at a Whole Foods stateside; yet it's a quarter of the price and undoubtably more fresh. Just yesterday I opened a carton of eggs to find a clump of chicken feathers inside; something which was both very perplexing yet intuitively obvious. Like I said, fresh.

    Once back at the apartment, I make dinner, call home again, then put both my computer and phone away for the evening. Again, for the sake of helping me sleep, I try to avoid looking at screens in the hours leading up to bed. Like everyone else, I probably spend enough time looking at my phone as it is. Instead, I'll do some light stretching and foam rolling before reading a book. My current novel is a John Grisham thriller that was kicking around the apartment when I moved in. Usually this sort of non-fiction isn't my thing but the plot is both mindless yet still interesting enough that I'm going to see it through. 

And there you have it, a day in the life. 

Thanks for reading,

~E

Latest Entertainment:

This song by "the hardest working man in show business" was recommended to me on Spotify a couple days ago and since then I can't it out of my head. 

Nate Bargatze is my favorite comedians at the moment. He has a great standup special on Netflix and has a weekly podcast that comes out on Wednesdays. It's great if you're looking for some humorous background banter while doing work around the house (or, in my case, while trying not to do said work). 

Running Through Sand

    The Cathedral bell here rings every fifteen minutes. Nothing grandiose; just a staccato "ding" followed by a natural decrescendo into silence.  For someone coming from the United States, there's an initial romantic novelty to this; the idea that a brass bell encased within a medieval stone building is helping me keep track of the time. After all, in our pockets we have fancy bricks of circuitry and rare earth metals that can do that for us. Plus, these things come equipped with apps full of cat memes and terrible news stories. With time pieces this good, who out there is still relying on a bell? 

    

    The thing about time over here is that it seems to always be moving at a pace contrary to what I'd like. When rushing to the grocery store before it closes at 2pm, time flies. Laying awake at 1am, unable to sleep, the opposite is true. All the while, despite the desired rhythm of my immediate task, there's that stupid church bell holding court over all of it; metronomically passing judgement on my progress. Ding...ding...ding. 

    If I sound like a person going insane the honest truth is that I might be. It's just a phase though, I swear. Usually my infatuation with time and church bells is fairly mute but these days my life has felt like it's in a constant state of acceleration and deceleration with plans being made only to come to an immediate halt once the wheels of progress are set in motion. Problems seem to arise from the most trivial tasks and time always seems of the essence. Finding forward momentum in these circumstances feels akin to running through sand; the harder I try to push off, the deeper I sink. 

 

    Back home, it's easy to take for granted the ease with which you can exert your will over an obstacle. You come up with rank order tasks that need to get done and then you do those tasks accordingly. In a foreign country though where you don't speak the language or understand...honestly anything...getting from point A to B is never a straight line. Take printing out a piece of paper for example. Few would think twice about this in the comfort of their normal environment but here it requires Google searches, asking friends, terrible translation attempts, and (most often) a frustrated clerk. Now imagine this dynamic combined with all the other, more pressing issues that come up when moving your life to a different country. Oh yeah, and add in a pandemic. 

    As a result of all this my life seems to have become a series of user errors; moments where I think things are progressing well only to see me fall on my face because I left my shoe laces untied. It's frustrating to say the least, especially given the frequency of these follies seems to be on par with those damn bells. Ding...ding...ding.

    Growing up, an often muttered phrase in the Oronte household was that "every rejection is a percentage of the sale" or, in other words, you gotta fail a few times before it goes right. Perhaps that's where I am right now; consistently coming up short as a mean to eventually figure it out. I have no clue if that's actually the case but it's a comforting notion none-the-less and one that, for now, I'm sticking with.

You Just Gotta Wonder Sometimes

    Placa del Vi is a modestly sized town square found almost immediately upon entering Old Town, Girona from the Pont de Pedra. A small, one way road runs through it and on three sides it's surrounded by contemporary, stone-faced three to four story buildings. Small cafes, shops, and government offices make up the first floor while apartments occupy the floors above. Assigned to every apartment is a balcony window with a small enclosed ledge that overlooks the square. On some of these balconies sit potted plants. On others, a small table with chairs. Some remain empty. Most uniformly though, nearly all the balconies include a Catalan flag or yellow ribbon; symbols of the separatist movement that can be seen scattered throughout this region. 

    With no political skin in the game, I find myself more intrigued by the presence of this patriotic display than by its political meaning. I ponder how the flags have remained so bright despite being exposed to the elements. Maybe they're new? Do the colors mean anything? I wonder whether this whole thing is really the work of individual tenants each looking to proudly show off their political orientation or is it a more organized spectacle? Perhaps these buildings comprise a single HOA that requires them. If that's the case, I try to picture what a HOA meeting full of impassioned political activists must be like and spare a thought for the one dude who lives there but doesn't care much for autonomy from Spain. I assume he's the most disliked tenant in the building which is odd given he's actually a super nice guy who never bothers anyone. At least, that was the case until the HOA board rejected his request to put another potted plant on his balcony; citing some arbitrary, never enforced code about having hanging plants in view during the period of January to March. He replies by saying Beth in 2A has the same plant on her balcony and pleads to the powers-at-be extend him equal courtesy. They remain firm in their decision. Defiantly, the tenant places the plant outside anyway, a gesture which infuriates the board and causes them to try and forcibly enter his apartment to remove it. A small scuffle ensues before the tenant ejects the intruders, bolts the door shut and refuses to leave. Following a multi-week standoff all hope seems lost for a timely resolution among the two sides. Also lost on everyone is the irony of the whole thing. 

    At least, that's how I imagine it all went down. 

    As a stranger here, my lack of knowledge in all things Spanish gives even the smallest observations an air of curiosity. This inability to discern local norms from one-off events has left my imagination in charge of filling in gaps of my cultural ignorance. Sometimes that imagination gets carried away. For me, it's a harmless form of entertainment that helps pass the time; and I can't help but indulge while standing in the periphery of Placa Del Vi this morning. 

    Another possibility is this entire display of flags and ribbons and banners is the work of some sleepy bureaucrat; a single person who needed something to do with a surplus of flags acquired after a festival got canceled due to Covid. In all honesty, I'll probably never know why it's all here and in such concentration; but it looks nice and gives me a reason to gaze up after ten minutes of walking and staring at my feet. For me, that's good enough.  

A Preview of Things to Come

    At the moment I'm in Girona, Spain watching an exorbitant amount of precipitation fall on the cobbled city streets. At some point, I'm supposed to ride today. Specifically, I'm supposed to ride one hour; an amount of time that, on days like this, is more of an inconvenience than something worth looking forward to. If the current forecast holds there will be little to no opportunity to make it outside for said ride; that is, of course, unless I want to get really cold and be miserable. I don't want to do that.

    Old town Girona is built against a hill which, when commuting into town, gives it something of a domineering appearance. Back in the day this high ground probably served some purpose, like slowing the marauding hordes, but today the slopes of town are more of an annoyance; a means for adding superfluous cardio to my already cardio-filled life. The street to my current apartment, like many streets in town, requires a short trudge uphill. The slope is gradual and the walk not very long, maybe two minutes, but it's long enough and steep enough to remind you that gravity exists and you're very much working against it. 

    In college I commuted to and from class by bike. One day following an exam, with my mind elsewhere, probably thinking about all the questions I got wrong, I turned a corner only to suddenly be greeted by an unavoidable sheet of ice. Before I knew it, my bike was gone from beneath me. Given the gradient of the road, which was very much downhill, and the length of the ice sheet, which went on for several city blocks, I slid for what felt like forever. My enduring memory of this incident was just how long I spent sliding down the street; so long in fact I had time to contemplate certain questions like 'how is this STILL happening?' and 'I wonder if this is actually faster than riding?' 

    It has probably been years since I last recalled that story but now, looking down the street of my apartment, the memory comes back as I admire the not-so-subtle sheen the rain has given the cobbles below. Part of me wonders if history will repeat itself. If, upon walking out the front door of the building, I'll just slide right to the intersecting street at the bottom. It's an amusing prospect though one that's obviously unlikely. 

    Whether it be because of the rain or the risk of sliding off into oblivion, I've spent this morning indoors coming to the conclusion that, after a multi-year hiatus, I'm going to make a concerted effort to restart this blog. In the past, this platform served as a means of keeping those who cared informed as to what I was up to or musings on things in my life. The new iteration will probably be very much the same. We obviously live in a time with plenty of divisive content online so hopefully you can find some solace and entertainment with what I have to say. I cannot guarantee updates will be regularly timed but I can promise I'll make an effort. 

In the meantime, here are a few things that have kept me entertained over the past few weeks: 

    Garrison Keillor hasn't hosted "A Prairie Home Companion" for a few years now but he is still writing regularly. My brother introduced me to his website a month or ago and it's been a consistent source of entertainment. For fans of APHC, the writing will feel similar to Keillor's Lake Wobegon monologues.

    One of my current fascinations is with beekeeping and given the ample time I have to sit around post-training the Vino Farm YouTube channel has become quite the rabbit hole. In case you aren't aware, bees are amazing; and no, that's not a joke. I encourage you to check this channel out. Plus, this farm is in Western Massachusetts so score one for the home team. 

    On the music front, I've been listening to Brass Against for a few years now but they've been a more consistent presence on my playlists lately. Essentially, these guys are the answer to the question "what would a ska version of a Rage Against the Machine song sound like?"

Thanks for reading, 

E

Downtime

Being the strongest guy in the groupetto and riding hard at the front is like being the smartest guy in prison and insisting all the other inmates are aware of it; you're the best of the worst, nobody likes you, and chances are most people in your vicinity are thinking of ways to kill you. 

This past week at the Tour de Beauce I found myself in the unfortunate position of dealing with people like this. To be fair, I’ve probably been this guy on at least one occasion during my racing tenure--that said, it’s still annoying. Obviously, if given the choice, I wouldn’t have been there but my legs and body pretty much stopped doing anything productive following the race’s second stage. Like…ANYTHING productive. Cleary, that time of year has come where I just need to sit on my sofa and make sure it doesn’t go anywhere. I’m tired—which sounds like such an underwhelming description—and I’m ready to relax a bit. 

To date, I can’t complain much about my season. I’ve managed to stay healthy and consistently fit for several months, I’ve managed to pull out some decent results, and I even got to come aboard one of the best domestic teams in the United States for the remainder of 2015. Sure, it hasn’t been without a few frustrations—I wish I hadn’t flatted on Oak Glen at Redlands, I wish the commissaries at Joe Martin knew how to interpret the three kilometer rule, I wish my crank arm didn’t fall off at nationals, and I wish my form didn’t take a complete nosedive at Beauce this past week. All in all though, I’ve experienced more luck than most, so I should just keep mum.

It goes without saying that I'm excited to join SmartStop Pro Cycling for the rest of the year

While it may be many weeks overdue, I’m ready to step away from my bike for a bit and recharge. Beyond the traveling circus that is bike racing, I've barely seen my friends this year—in fact, I’ve barely even seen my own home and roommates—and actually catching up with them in person would be nice. With any luck they still remember me.

Backyard BBQs with friends and the Boulder Farmers' Market--hallmarks of summer.

Kale. It's delicious. 

It's Never As Good As It Seems & It's Never As Bad As It Seems

It’s nearing midnight in the middle of New Mexico, I have no clue what town I’m in, and I’m driving rather quickly up a windy mountain road. Egged on by some excessively loud music and the realization that our destination is close I peg the gas pedal just that bit more out of every corner. I’m tired and, even in the moment, I know this is a terrible idea. As a stereotypically risk averse individual my current venture to the “dark side” is very uncharacteristic but, at the same time, somewhat exhilarating. At least the feeling of tiredness from only a few minutes before has now been replaced by a slight boost of adrenaline…

To lend some context to the situation, up to this point our travel day had been something of a shit show and I wanted nothing more than for it to be over. After a delayed flight in Arkansas, teammate Taylor Shelden and I missed our connection to Albuquerque; prompting the question of whether we would even get to Silver City in time to start the Tour of the Gila which began at 9am the next day. Fortunately, we were able to get re-booked and arrived in New Mexico four hours after we initially planned with a two hundred fifty mile drive still to go. After three hours of sitting behind the wheel I desperately wanted to be at our hotel and sleeping. Sadly, we still had an hour to go.

As the song being blared out the stereo ends the car is filled with a moment of awkward silence while the next track gets queued up. Despite lasting only a few seconds, the short-lived reprieve from audio bombardment resets my brain a bit and it finally sinks in just how Darwinian my current activity is. I take my foot off the gas pedal and coast until the odometer reads within the speed limit. It feels exceptionally slow but I tell myself that’s OK—after all, killing yourself to save five minutes is pretty silly when you really think about it. A few miles later, we reach the summit of the mountain and I pull over to the side of the road and let Taylor take the helm for the final leg to Silver City.

Despite the ominous start, the Tour of the Gila did not go nearly as terribly as I thought it would. Following a fairly brutal wake-up only a handful of hours after arriving at our hotel, I managed to pull off a decent result (in my opinion, anyway) on stage 1—finishing 11^th in spite of feeling like total shit (no surprise there). In fact, feeling sub-par was probably the most prevalent theme of Gila. While stage one was by far the worst, I just never felt comfortable during the week and had this continuous feeling of lethargy when racing. I could tell my body wasn’t totally acclimated to the altitude (over the last five weeks I’ve only been in Boulder for seven days) and racing Joe Martin the week prior definitely left a bit of a dent. Fortunately, my legs came around pretty well the final day and I managed to make all the selections over the major climbs—most of which included only five to eight guys. With a bit more organization from the group (including myself who dogged a few pulls) maybe we could have rolled it to the line—who really knows. Instead, there were quite a few regroupings in the final 30km and a group of twenty or so wound up sprinting to the line. I got sixth on the day and tenth overall.

Of all the results I’ve had this year, this past week is probably the one I’m most proud of. Sure, I didn’t win but the fact that I remained competitive despite not feeling amazing is something I’ll hold my head high for. They say good bike racers are good even when they’re bad; and while I’ll leave it to others to create labels about just how good of a bike racer I am, it’s at least nice to know I don’t totally suck…even when I feel that way.