Zen and the Art of Speedskating

Doesn’t it look like I am meditating serenely in the mountains?

Nothing could be further from the truth! Actually, I had collapsed onto my knees, trying to stretch out painfully spasming & cramping quadriceps.

My friend Kirk & I had just climbed roughly 5,000 feet on our bikes from West Jordan to the top of an mountain ridge overlooking the Kennecot copper mine.

I felt fine for the first 2 hours of climbing, including 2 miles of a consistent 20% grade, but during the last half hour of vertical effort, I completely cracked to pieces.

I could have walked faster.

Finally at the top, the view was incredible, but I was a mess. I handed my camera to Kirk, gasped: “take some pictures of the scenery” and pretty much fell knees first into a tuft of grass. I didn’t know he turned the camera on me.

The Kennecott mine is a fascinating place. There are only 2 manmade things clearly visible from orbiting spacecraft- the great wall of China, and this giant earth-zit.

Click to get a larger version of this picture, and see if you can spot the trucks creeping up the side of this 3/4 mile deep pit.

When you have completed this “Where’s Waldo” search, consider that these are monstrous trucks that fill 2 lanes when they travel on normal roads, the roof of an SUV doesn’t even reach the center of their hubcaps. The Kennecot website has images of them.

I like challenging myself, but this time, the mountain truly kicked me to pieces. But when you really need it, people come through.

I had a few dollars with me in my seat pack (always have money in your flat kit!), and when I could walk/stagger again, I hobbled over to several tourists who were up there in 4X4’s, I asked if I could buy some food from them.

No one would take my money, but next thing I knew, my hands were overflowing with garlic-artichoke hummus & ham sandwiches, Gatorade, molasses cookies, yummy sunflower seeds & salty potato chips!!!! My faith in the goodness of humanity is restored….

Also, thanks go to Kirk for this crazy epic ride idea. Next week he is moving away from speedskating, back to Colorado, and he will be deeply missed.

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There are many theories about training, and many ways, in practice, of applying them.

Theory: Train your weakness, race your strengths-
Practice: If you are not a climber, do hilly bike rides with excellent riders who can rip your legs off at will, my heart was raging in the low 190’s as I shot this, Keith was at 160.

Theory: watching the scenery makes climbing feel less painful
Practice: it kind of works… briefly… maybe that’s how racers make it through the Tour & the Giro.

Theory: A brick falls faster than a kite-
Practice: on the downhills, Keith, it’s your turn to chase! ; )

Theory: Make sure your equipment matches the requirements of the activity
Practice: I’m wearing one of my father’s Jerseys that’s probably 30 years old, oozes 70’s vibe, and is made from magical fibers called “wool” shorn from a mythical creature known as a “sheep”.

Theory: Bad, tasty habits are the hardest ones to break.
Practice: My brother bought me daily diet cokes when I was in Texas, now I drink them all the time, damm!!

Listen carefully, & you can hear my brother & John Dimon laughing at/with me, as they welcome me to this foul addiction. I suppose there are worse things to be eating. I do drink the splenda version, not the evil aspartame that is present in most diet sodas.

Theory: When feeling down, watch videos of old races to get psyched up for training hard again.
Practice: YouTube.

Someday the current crop of elite skaters will be retired, & what has been done on pavement & ice will be gone. But video on the internet is forever!

There is so much on Youtube that is amazing, just a search for names like Sven Kramer & it brings up all sorts of beautiful skating!

However, for some reason, my mind is still on the bike:

I had read many accounts about the finish of the 1989 world championships, where Laurent Fingion and Greg Lemond went at it in a horrific rainstorm.

And this morning, I happened across it on YouTube. WOW! This is some of the most exciting, freakishly ballsy crazy road racing I have ever seen. They had already raced over 100 miles by the time this video starts.

Fingion & other riders are desperately trying to get away from Lemond’s well known finishing speed, Lemond chases down everything, & then the pack is joined at the very end by an exhausted Sean Kelly, who was the best road sprinter of that generation. Insane racing.

Greg Lemond once said: “it doesn’t get any easier, you just get faster”. This finish meant something special to him, as a photo of him coming across this line first is the top right photo on Greg’s own website.

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Filed under: from the coffee shop

The start of the Salt Lake Century. 2,000+ cyclists, at all skill levels, riding 37, 67, or 107 miles.

It’s been a while since I’ve ridden in a big pack, as I train mostly by myself. But the feel for the peloton I gained in a decade of being “racerhead bike trash” came back naturally. Like riding a bike, one never forgets.

A massive pack of cyclists is like a school of exotic swarming fish. It’s never static, never quiet. Carbon fiber & aluminum scales flash past; chattering & rhythmic legs swimming in a hiss of tires-whirr of gears-thunk-thunk of gears shifting, bright jerseys finlike & sunglassed eyes focused on ripples of motion through the road & vibrant arrowing school.

Dancing on the pedals through cool morning air, it’s great to be a fish! This was not a race, but people were moving well & riding smoothly. Eric Kraan & I rode together, that’s him in the yellow. There were cyclists as far ahead & behind us as our eyes could see.

Due to the flat terrain, huge packs of “like-minded souls” quickly formed. Eric & I ended up with not just any fish, but hammerheads, barracuda, marlin, mako, & tarpon of the friendliest, fastest kind.

As the morning heats up, this pack ate up the miles at an astonishing pace. (note: we were far from the first groups, all great whites & orcas).

We are flying across the gorgeous antelope island causeway here, spinning the big ring at 27mph. Snow in the mountains visible over our shoulders.

Does this photo of make my butt look big? I have a maximus gluteus no matter the camera angle. I am “keeping it old school” here on a VERY old Bianchi full of “passione celeste” that my brother gave me.

Among the carbon fiber, aluminum & titanium fish so common in current top level bikes, I think my brother’s old bike left a swirl of rust in the air as I rode along. But I could almost hear it singing in Italian to me, or was that just the early warning signs of dehydration?

Packs, packs, huge numbers of people. I could never dream of riding this far, this fast, on my own.

About 65 miles in, both Eric & I started cramping hard, going from Hammerhead to guppy in a matter of a mile.

Full quad spasms sting.

We dropped away from the school ‘O fish. Even through stop signs, urban riding, crosswinds & the winding hills through Antelope Island, we had been averaging close to 23mph.

We took a decent break at a rest stop. Partook of the generous refreshments, and felt much better.

I sent Jessica this text message, letting her know I was ok.

71 so far
am cramping
headwind is bad
I AM AT PEACE

Re-hyrdated & energized, during the final 40 miles Eric & I began to merge with other riders doing the shorter routes.

After swimming in schools of hammerheads, I was reminded how wonderfully democratic cycling is. How accessible, how there are so many ways to enjoy the sport.

And that there are many people whose courage & effort to ride the 37 mile shortest route was far greater than what I needed to ride 107.

I take my helmet off to them.

Near the end Eric & I ended up with many triathletes riding on their tribars, pulling steady by themselves in the wind, dreaming of the swim-bike-run Kona Ironman.

A few moments after I took this shot, this guy took an incredible, endless pull into a headwind, 25 people in his draft, thankful for every pedalstroke.

Due to some spark of intensity innate to who I am, in the final miles I started driving as hard as I could.

How appropriate is it to the theme of this post that a rider astride a custom LandShark joined me, and we took turns team time trialing through the final few miles at 25-27mph (really, this is him, you can see the logo on this downtube).

We were not racing, there is no reward unless you count the yummy ice cream bars they had at the finish. There was no completion certificate, but who cares.

It’s the joy of riding, and the pride of accomplishment & being a fortunate fish.

Why did I title this post 52,839 ??

My father rode many centuries when I was a kid, I clearly remember him and his green Raleigh International riding the BikeCentennial in 1976.

In 1976 he was a year younger than I am now, he can’t ride anymore due to heart trouble.

My heart beat roughly 52,839 times over the 5 hours & 9 minutes it took me to do this 107 mile ride (average hr of 171, final average speed of 20.78).

…and I am grateful for every beat I have, every joyous pedalstroke that I can take, because someday I might not be able to.

Dad, although a lot of people might read this post, I really wrote this thinking of you; as I thought of you often during the ride.

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Filed under: from the coffee shop

Most long track ice speedskaters, if you measure their calves, will have a larger left calf muscle, due to the constant left turns putting the left leg through more hell than the right

I am glad it’s not as deformed in real life as this shadow makes it seem.

However I did just notice something really weird, and I want to ask other hardcore multi-year ice addicts if this is true of them-

Sit in a chair with bare feet. Stick your legs straight out & pull your toes back towards yourself.

The toes on my left foot can be pulled back much farther than the toes on my right foot. I am guessing that this is because of constant stepping “up” into left hand corners creates a greater range of “toe-pullback” motion on the left foot than the right.

Or maybe I am just oddly made. How about you?

I have had short trackers tell me that their right leg becomes stronger than the left, due to the pivot-turn. So maybe they are different in the toe-flex-factor too.

Here is the final shadow, from this morning.

I have really had fun recently doing intervals on the inlines & chasing Jessica on her Tri-bike.

She was just cruising & warming up here. When she popped into the big chainring and started hammering, I had to put the camera away & sprint as hard as I could to keep up.

I love the warp on the spokes from the cheap-o camera phone. Or is that her wheel-cracking power??? Jessica is as much a fast-twitch sprinter-type as I am, and is doing Triathlons to prove some kind of point to herself.

I understand, it’s the same reason I raced a 10k metric ice last year, and might race an inline marathon or two this year.

There is something very wrong & very right with this mentality.

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People are familiar with Superbowl rings, & the prestige/mythology associated with them (check out this link for a fascinating look at all the designs & history).

Until I saw people wearing rings with the Olympic emblem on them, I never realized that athletes & coaches also get a ring for participating in the Olympic games!

Here are photos of two Olympic rings. The first is the ring Chris Shelly was given when he competed in the 1992 Albertville games.

I asked Chris if he had ever lost it, or had a good story associated with it. Chris said:

Well, I wear it all the time, I almost never take it off. One day I was surfing in New Hampshire, and the ring flew off my finger!

In terrifying slow motion I saw it fly through the air and hit the water. The bottom was so muddy, silty & mucky, that I knew I would never find it if it hit bottom. So I dove into the water after it.

I grabbed it just before it hit bottom!!

According to a national team guy I spoke to, the rings the men were given from the 1998 Nagano games were HUGE, and almost unwearable “bling-bling”. The ones the women received were slimmer, and many of the men ended up requesting one of those.

At the US speedskating spring board meeting, I spotted the Torino ring bling-bling on the hand of Ryan Shimabukuro.

Ryan said that the coaches get a slightly different ring than the athletes, and that if an athlete wins a medal, you receive a different style as well.

I asked Ryan “how much does this ring mean to you”? He said:

Well, I wouldn’t give it to my mom when she asked for it. If I get another one, then she gets that one!

There is a third ring to this story, and one just as meaningful. This past weekend, RYAN GOT MARRIED IN HAWAII !!!

If you think about it, a wedding ring is fundamentally different than an Olympic or Superbowl ring. The sporting “bling rings” signify rare and tremendous personal accomplishment, achievement, and they symbolize a fixed moment in time when the world is watching. Incredible stuff!

A wedding ring however, is a public symbol of something intensely private; and when you first put it on, a wedding ring mostly points into the future.

But over time, it becomes a ring that looks both ways like Janus. It’s a ring that becomes richer the more years you wear it, a ring that is tied to another person, memories, family, the whole equally incredible grab bag that life is.

Congratulations Ryan! On both your rings! Between the two of them, there are some incredible truths about human nature.

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Filed under: from the coffee shop