I think I'm finally getting the hang of this SUP surfing thing. Having exactly zero experience in watersports, I grew up in Iowa and lived in Colorado for 10 years, I'm learning quickly about swells, wind, tide and break direction. The ocean is much more complex than what you see on the surface. I've been spending time online looking at surf reports in an effort to learn more. It's not just about finding the best waves, it's about my safety as well. A few weeks back I got caught in windstorm on the water and barely made it back to shore, the experience was one of the scariest I've had in a long time. Out on the water there are few options, it's not like hiking, running or cycling where you can stop and call for help. Of course I knew that before hand, but when it's no longer a theoretical situation the point is driven home with a raised heart rate and awareness.
Even in "safe" conditions, the water can be dangerous. I've been caught in the whitewater, been tossed over the falls and had my fin take a gash of flesh from my shin. Getting pummeled and turned every which way is scary, especially with a pointy 11' board with three fins attached to your leg. It's also tiring as all hell. After a wipeout it's not easy to corral my 11' 1" board, get it pointed back out and get paddling out again. Too many times I'm caught in the crush zone, with waves pounding me backward.
Still, the thrill of catching waves is addictive. I am now able to pretty much catch waves at will, though I am VERY selective and have no ego pushing me to catch the biggest wave I can. Plus I've only ridden rights, I'm not ready to try going heel side just yet. My next move is to try and actually make some turns. As you can imagine, at 11' 1" my board isn't exactly snappy. I typically make one long, arcing turn and call it good.
Even with my rudimentary style, surfing is a rush I've not had elsewhere. I can still remember catching my first wave and realized just what surfers mean when they use the term "stoke", and believe me it's different than skiing stoke or mountain biking stoke. It's similar to skiing a great line, but the fluidity and fleeting nature of the wave make it more immediate. Plus, for someone like me who has to struggle to get the wave to begin with, it is imperative to make every wave count.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
SUP Haters
This morning I had my first run in with some surfers that were none to happy to see me on my SUP board. I knew it was bound to happen, but the circumstances were pretty odd to me. I jumped in at the harbor, saw two guys, paddled around the jetty to see what else was around and returned back to the harbor. At that point they vocalized their displeasure with my re-appearance.
First, the waves were small, I mean SMALL. Second, they were the only two guys out there, it wasn't like it was a super-crowded day and I was adding to the chaos. Third, I had tried to find another spot and when I made that point their response was, "well, you're here now". Brilliant.
One guy said I should "show some respect" while the other said "that's not even surfing, it's just lame". Well, both are great points. Except that when I came back to the I didn't take the first good wave, drop in, or snake a wave. A decent set rolled through and I made sure they got those waves. I made this point directly to the guy who yelled about respect, but it fell on water clogged ears. To the guy that made the comment about SUP being lame I said, "so, you get to decide what's cool in surfing and what isn't?" Without hesitating he said, "yep". Well, OK then. Arguing with that type of person is a dead-end encounter so I moved on. When I told them I'd been in line ups with 10 to 20 guys and no one else complained they replied those guys weren't "the right guys". I have no idea what the means. Of the 100's of surfers I've encountered these were the first two to take issue (at least audibly) with me being on the SUP board. The oddest thing is that these weren't some 20-something punks, these guys were probably in their late 30's or even early 40's. They were on boards almost as long as mine and were not quite shredding the water.
So rather than sit in a tenuous situation and fight for a few measly waves I paddled to the next jetty and caught a few decent waves. After sitting around and looking for more waves at other jetties I paddled back to the harbor. The two surfers were gone, so I got a few good waves and called it good.
It just takes a few guys to take something fun and make it more of an issue than it should ever be. However, rather than focus on two morons I'll remember the guy that approached me as I was putting my board on top of the car. He asked about the board and remarked that it looked like a lot of fun. He isn't the first guy to ask me about SUP, and he won't be the last I'm sure.
First, the waves were small, I mean SMALL. Second, they were the only two guys out there, it wasn't like it was a super-crowded day and I was adding to the chaos. Third, I had tried to find another spot and when I made that point their response was, "well, you're here now". Brilliant.
One guy said I should "show some respect" while the other said "that's not even surfing, it's just lame". Well, both are great points. Except that when I came back to the I didn't take the first good wave, drop in, or snake a wave. A decent set rolled through and I made sure they got those waves. I made this point directly to the guy who yelled about respect, but it fell on water clogged ears. To the guy that made the comment about SUP being lame I said, "so, you get to decide what's cool in surfing and what isn't?" Without hesitating he said, "yep". Well, OK then. Arguing with that type of person is a dead-end encounter so I moved on. When I told them I'd been in line ups with 10 to 20 guys and no one else complained they replied those guys weren't "the right guys". I have no idea what the means. Of the 100's of surfers I've encountered these were the first two to take issue (at least audibly) with me being on the SUP board. The oddest thing is that these weren't some 20-something punks, these guys were probably in their late 30's or even early 40's. They were on boards almost as long as mine and were not quite shredding the water.
So rather than sit in a tenuous situation and fight for a few measly waves I paddled to the next jetty and caught a few decent waves. After sitting around and looking for more waves at other jetties I paddled back to the harbor. The two surfers were gone, so I got a few good waves and called it good.
It just takes a few guys to take something fun and make it more of an issue than it should ever be. However, rather than focus on two morons I'll remember the guy that approached me as I was putting my board on top of the car. He asked about the board and remarked that it looked like a lot of fun. He isn't the first guy to ask me about SUP, and he won't be the last I'm sure.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Big Surf, Big Moment
We've finally settled into California life, and it has been a relatively easy adjustment. Though it is still weird to be in jeans and a T shirt at Thanksgiving and Christmas, it's not a bad thing. I've picked up stand up paddleboarding, or SUP and get in the water at every opportunity.
This morning the surf was big, or at least big to me. I usually surf 2-3 foot waves (trust me, that's bigger than it sounds) and when I saw 4 to 6 foot swells crashing on the shore I was hesitant to say the least. I paddled from the Ventura Marina north towards the pier, checking to see if the surf was smaller. It wasn't, so decided to give it a go near one of the jettys.
With no other surfers around to see my terrible skills, and just a few fishermen on shore to help me if I were to need any, I waited for a good wave. After letting a set of big waves crash through I picked what I thought was a smaller wave. It wasn't.
As the wave rolled beneath me as I paddles to catch it, my board, being 11'1" long, pearled, meaning the nose dug in and over I went. It's not a lot of fun when you are tossed in the water with an 11', 25 lb, pointed wooden object that also has three sharp fins on it chasing you over the falls. Instinctively I put my hands up near my face and just let the water rag doll me around. Thankfully I came up uninjured (last week my fin caught my shin and despite my 3mm wetsuit it took a nice chunk of flesh from my shin). I had to wait at least five minutes for the set to roll through before I could paddle back out.
After that not so fun experience, I headed back towards the marina, debating on trying to catch another wave or just head in. At the cove, where I surf often, the waves were still big, but I decided to try and catch a few waves on the shoulder, where it's not so steep.
I said to myself I'll just catch one wave and go in. I caught a wave and had a decent ride on it, making one nice long turn. Here's the catch; I had to catch another one. Whether it's the success and thrill of catching a wave, especially for an amateur like me, my desire to get better (I'll only do that by catching more waves) or the fact that it was a struggle just to get back out, I can't say. All I know is that I wanted to catch another one. Badly.
I stayed out, letting the bigger waves roll under me, though some I think I should have taken. Picking two more waves, I caught both and had pretty good rides. Even then, it was hard to point the board toward the marina and head back home.
I know there will be more waves and more opportunities, but when the current moment presents an opportunity, I find myself having to take it. Maybe that's because the first sentence in this paragraph is not a give. I don't know if I'll have those opportunities again; your life can change in an instant you never saw coming. Not that you should be fearful, but every time I leave my house for a bike ride, I am distinctly conscious of the fact that my safe return is not a given. Heck, even driving to work or going to the grocery store can have consequences.
The key is to know that those consequences exist and can come at any moment and still go out and do the things that need to be done, like getting milk, and that you like to do, like riding bikes or surfing. I think it's a balance, like a good surfer, to live in the moment but also responsibly. If you live everyday like it's your last, would you really go to work, write that email, or clean the garage? Of course not, yet those are parts of everyday life. For me, it's really about appreciating that moment for what it is, recognizing it, and remembering that you're not guaranteed this will ever happen again. That makes those moments worth remembering so memorable. It doesn't have to be a sport or even an outdoor activity. It can be dinner with your spouse or friends, a vacation get together or just a random event. Just be cognizant of the moment and you'll know it.
This morning the surf was big, or at least big to me. I usually surf 2-3 foot waves (trust me, that's bigger than it sounds) and when I saw 4 to 6 foot swells crashing on the shore I was hesitant to say the least. I paddled from the Ventura Marina north towards the pier, checking to see if the surf was smaller. It wasn't, so decided to give it a go near one of the jettys.With no other surfers around to see my terrible skills, and just a few fishermen on shore to help me if I were to need any, I waited for a good wave. After letting a set of big waves crash through I picked what I thought was a smaller wave. It wasn't.
As the wave rolled beneath me as I paddles to catch it, my board, being 11'1" long, pearled, meaning the nose dug in and over I went. It's not a lot of fun when you are tossed in the water with an 11', 25 lb, pointed wooden object that also has three sharp fins on it chasing you over the falls. Instinctively I put my hands up near my face and just let the water rag doll me around. Thankfully I came up uninjured (last week my fin caught my shin and despite my 3mm wetsuit it took a nice chunk of flesh from my shin). I had to wait at least five minutes for the set to roll through before I could paddle back out.
After that not so fun experience, I headed back towards the marina, debating on trying to catch another wave or just head in. At the cove, where I surf often, the waves were still big, but I decided to try and catch a few waves on the shoulder, where it's not so steep.
I said to myself I'll just catch one wave and go in. I caught a wave and had a decent ride on it, making one nice long turn. Here's the catch; I had to catch another one. Whether it's the success and thrill of catching a wave, especially for an amateur like me, my desire to get better (I'll only do that by catching more waves) or the fact that it was a struggle just to get back out, I can't say. All I know is that I wanted to catch another one. Badly.
I stayed out, letting the bigger waves roll under me, though some I think I should have taken. Picking two more waves, I caught both and had pretty good rides. Even then, it was hard to point the board toward the marina and head back home.
I know there will be more waves and more opportunities, but when the current moment presents an opportunity, I find myself having to take it. Maybe that's because the first sentence in this paragraph is not a give. I don't know if I'll have those opportunities again; your life can change in an instant you never saw coming. Not that you should be fearful, but every time I leave my house for a bike ride, I am distinctly conscious of the fact that my safe return is not a given. Heck, even driving to work or going to the grocery store can have consequences.
The key is to know that those consequences exist and can come at any moment and still go out and do the things that need to be done, like getting milk, and that you like to do, like riding bikes or surfing. I think it's a balance, like a good surfer, to live in the moment but also responsibly. If you live everyday like it's your last, would you really go to work, write that email, or clean the garage? Of course not, yet those are parts of everyday life. For me, it's really about appreciating that moment for what it is, recognizing it, and remembering that you're not guaranteed this will ever happen again. That makes those moments worth remembering so memorable. It doesn't have to be a sport or even an outdoor activity. It can be dinner with your spouse or friends, a vacation get together or just a random event. Just be cognizant of the moment and you'll know it.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
CO. to CA.: A new Chapter Begins
After a long hiatus, or more appropriately, complete abandonment of this blog, I've decided to give it another go around. Hopefully I'll be better about posting, not just with frequency, but content you enjoy. After a major shift in life, new job, Editor of tri-magazine and assoc. editor of ROAD Magazine, and new location, Valencia, CA, but soon to be Ventura, there is a lot of new ground for me to explore.
I don't want this to become another "look at me doing cool things in my cool life with my cool friends" jealousy-inducing blog. Rather, I am out to show what you can do if you just take one simple step out your door. You may not be anywhere near water or great trails, but I'll bet there's some cool stuff near you that you simply have to find. In my six months in CA. I've explored areas and found spots that life-long residents haven't seen. I am amazed at the endless opportunities that this state has. From the beaches to the mountains and desert, CA has the terrain, weather and recreation for any outdoor athlete. I'm out to explore it all. Well, maybe not moto-riding in the desert, that looks lame.
With the new job comes a lot of new gear. I am constantly trying out new products, from 10,000 bikes to sunscreen and nutrition. I thought I had a lot of gear before, but now it is borderline out of control. Not helping the situation has been the addition of two (one for me and one for Courtney) 11'1" SUP boards, paddles and leashes. Being just 10' from the beach, some form of watersport recreation was inevitable. As you can imagine the clutter in our garage is amazing. The amount of gear we have accrued is astounding.
What amazes me is how many items are doubled up. Wetsuits, one for triathlon, one for SUP, tires, some for road, some for mountain, some for cross, some tubeless; shoes, running shoes, hiking shoes, road bike shoes, mtn bike shoes, trail shoes. Jackets: soft shells, wind-proof shells, winter jackets, cycling jackets. Bags, bags for tri, for SUP, for work, for travel, for the camera. At first it's cool, you have all this gear, then you realize you have to put is somewhere, and that's when the cool factors fades away in the clutter of your garage.
Speaking of garages, finding a condo for rent with a garage in Ventura, CA was nearly impossible. We found the only complex with garages and took the last 2 bedroom floorplan available. We don't plan on putting the cars in, its all about gear storage. I am seriously considering renting another garage in the complex to store stuff.
I often look at the gear and think I have way too much, but when I look at all, I see that there isn't a single piece of equipment I don't use. Sure, not on a daily basis, (though I think it would be cool to one day ride all my bikes, go ski and SUP) but I do use it all. Nothing sits idle, and much of the gear is at the ready for repairs, modifications, etc. Plus, much of it I have not paid for, and it really is part of my job, so what am I to do? The simple answer is to use it and enjoy it, that's what its for, right?
Friday, November 19, 2010
The Weekly Report
This week the weather has both cooperated and frustrated. It's been cold, but not snowing, so at least the roads and paths are clear. Unfortunately it's also been gray, which really de-motivates me. Give me sun and I can drag my body out the door no matter how tired I am. Gray skies mean extra shots of espresso and an extra shot of will power to layer up and get outside.
To add to that on Wednesday I made the drive to Boulder to catch the Wednesday Worlds 'Cross ride. It's basically an informal race that many of the top riders in Boulder use to get faster. It starts at 8 AM, so it was an early morning. But traffic and some bad luck meant I didn't get to Boulder until 8:20, so I missed the ride! Riding on my own my legs feeling like heavy noodles, so it may have been a good thing I didn't make it.
This week I'll just be racing on Saturday. I'm definitely starting to wear down from my longest 'cross season to date. My top end is going and more often than not my legs are fatigued. Cross demands a level of snappiness that only a committed rider can provide. Last weekend my legs were dead during the drive to the venue but somehow they felt OK when we started. I guess that's what pinning on a number does, to quote the great Jens Voigt, "I tell my legs to shut up and do what I tell you!"
In a stroke of some luck this weekend the weather looks great. Cold, but not snowy or wet to create the muddy conditions of last week. I don't mind the mud, but when every pedal stroke is an adventure it kind of takes my motivation out. That's likely due to the fact that my technical skills are poor but my aerobic conditioning is high. I guess from now on I can only hope that mother nature is on my side!
To add to that on Wednesday I made the drive to Boulder to catch the Wednesday Worlds 'Cross ride. It's basically an informal race that many of the top riders in Boulder use to get faster. It starts at 8 AM, so it was an early morning. But traffic and some bad luck meant I didn't get to Boulder until 8:20, so I missed the ride! Riding on my own my legs feeling like heavy noodles, so it may have been a good thing I didn't make it.
This week I'll just be racing on Saturday. I'm definitely starting to wear down from my longest 'cross season to date. My top end is going and more often than not my legs are fatigued. Cross demands a level of snappiness that only a committed rider can provide. Last weekend my legs were dead during the drive to the venue but somehow they felt OK when we started. I guess that's what pinning on a number does, to quote the great Jens Voigt, "I tell my legs to shut up and do what I tell you!"
In a stroke of some luck this weekend the weather looks great. Cold, but not snowy or wet to create the muddy conditions of last week. I don't mind the mud, but when every pedal stroke is an adventure it kind of takes my motivation out. That's likely due to the fact that my technical skills are poor but my aerobic conditioning is high. I guess from now on I can only hope that mother nature is on my side!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Muddy Mayhem
Yesterday was the coldest, wettest, muddiest and most frustrating race I've had to date. I was tired, but looking forward to racing with some top guys, and believed I could have a good result. However some unfortunate timing along with more of "that's just racing" luck came together to create a tough day for me.
The race was in Fort Collins, about 90 minutes from home. The Cat 2/3 race was at 9:45, so it was an early morning. The first hard frost greeted me as I packed my gear in the car. We took the straight shot north on I 25 arriving right on schedule.
The venue was by far the biggest I've been to. This being a stop on the US Grand Prix it had it's own little village of sponsors, vendors and food stops. The atmosphere was great even if I could still see my breath. I found registration, grabbed my number and headed back to the car to bundle up and hit the course.
Twists, turns, off camber U turns and a few straight aways made up the loop. The ground was frozen solid underneath my tires, making a bit nervous. Hitting the deck is never good, but with the ground this hard it would be a much harder impact. I got the lay of the land and rode back to the car to continue my warm up on the trainer.
Changing into my skinsuit and knee warmers I geared up for the tough race ahead. The temperature had risen to around 30, and with no wind it was really pretty nice. Classic 'cross weather! Mentally I was in a good place, ready to be aggressive but not overly amped. Sitting in the corral waiting to stage seemed to drag on, but soon we were all in neat rows nervously tugging at our gloves or adjusting our shoes. Then we were off.
In the first 50 meters on pavement I had both decent and not so good luck. I was in the top 12, but then the rider to my left veered over so I had to check up. This cost me some crucial spots heading into the first corner. From my days as a BMX rider I know how important that first corner is. Get there clean and your day is much easier. Come through near the back and it's a dogfight to the front.
As we hit the course the usual argy bargy was taking places. Guys leaning on each other, trying to get the better line, trying to move up. It was the usual chaos but at least no one went down.
Then the real chaos began. In the hour between my riding the course and the race the temperature had risen just enough to thaw out the frozen ground, creating a muddy, slick as ice mess. Any attempt to really lean into a corner and your front wheel went out and down you went. This happened in front of me a few times causing me to lose my momentum.
Quickly I realized the race was getting away, but there was little I could do. The course was littered with guys sliding out, even on the straight flat sections. As we rode our tires filled with mud, making traction even more hard to come by. Any time you lost momentum and tried to gear back up the tires just spun.
Through many corners I had to unclip my inside leg to ensure I wouldn't go down. I tried to focus on the riders ahead of me and work on catching them. Through the grassy sections I powered along as fast as I could to make up some ground. By the third lap I knew I was well out of the top ten and since I had no rhythm, nowhere to just unleash the legs I was pretty frustrated. As the laps went down I vascillated between trying to hammer and just not caring.
The coolest part of the course was the stairs run up. I've seen these on some of the more professional courses, but never had the "pleasure" of negotiating one. Pretty much they put a large stair case with about 10 steps in the course followed by a short flat and then the ramp down. It's pretty fun if you get it right, but screw it up and you can really hurt yourself.
When it was all over I finished in 20th, just inside the top half of the field. Given that I am a Cat. 3 rider and our group was a combination of Cat. 2 and 3's I was surprised I was that high up.
My bike was covered in mud, like everyone else's so I washed it off a bit and went for a quick cool down spin. The clouds had rolled in and I was getting really cold really quickly so I spun back to the car, changed into some jeans and a puffy jacket and watched the rest of the racing. Thankfully the "All You Care To Eat Pancakes" guy was out, so for $5 I filled my belly.
For the other riders the course dried out and actually got really fast. I was blown away with how fast the pros, women and men, were able to ride. Cyclocross racing is truly a skill all it's own.
The race was in Fort Collins, about 90 minutes from home. The Cat 2/3 race was at 9:45, so it was an early morning. The first hard frost greeted me as I packed my gear in the car. We took the straight shot north on I 25 arriving right on schedule.
The venue was by far the biggest I've been to. This being a stop on the US Grand Prix it had it's own little village of sponsors, vendors and food stops. The atmosphere was great even if I could still see my breath. I found registration, grabbed my number and headed back to the car to bundle up and hit the course.
Twists, turns, off camber U turns and a few straight aways made up the loop. The ground was frozen solid underneath my tires, making a bit nervous. Hitting the deck is never good, but with the ground this hard it would be a much harder impact. I got the lay of the land and rode back to the car to continue my warm up on the trainer.
Changing into my skinsuit and knee warmers I geared up for the tough race ahead. The temperature had risen to around 30, and with no wind it was really pretty nice. Classic 'cross weather! Mentally I was in a good place, ready to be aggressive but not overly amped. Sitting in the corral waiting to stage seemed to drag on, but soon we were all in neat rows nervously tugging at our gloves or adjusting our shoes. Then we were off.
In the first 50 meters on pavement I had both decent and not so good luck. I was in the top 12, but then the rider to my left veered over so I had to check up. This cost me some crucial spots heading into the first corner. From my days as a BMX rider I know how important that first corner is. Get there clean and your day is much easier. Come through near the back and it's a dogfight to the front.
As we hit the course the usual argy bargy was taking places. Guys leaning on each other, trying to get the better line, trying to move up. It was the usual chaos but at least no one went down.
Then the real chaos began. In the hour between my riding the course and the race the temperature had risen just enough to thaw out the frozen ground, creating a muddy, slick as ice mess. Any attempt to really lean into a corner and your front wheel went out and down you went. This happened in front of me a few times causing me to lose my momentum.
Quickly I realized the race was getting away, but there was little I could do. The course was littered with guys sliding out, even on the straight flat sections. As we rode our tires filled with mud, making traction even more hard to come by. Any time you lost momentum and tried to gear back up the tires just spun.
 |
| Slipping and sliding was the name of the game. Photo: C. Johnson |
The coolest part of the course was the stairs run up. I've seen these on some of the more professional courses, but never had the "pleasure" of negotiating one. Pretty much they put a large stair case with about 10 steps in the course followed by a short flat and then the ramp down. It's pretty fun if you get it right, but screw it up and you can really hurt yourself.
 |
| Running up the stairs was one of the coolest parts of the race. Photo: C. Johnson |
My bike was covered in mud, like everyone else's so I washed it off a bit and went for a quick cool down spin. The clouds had rolled in and I was getting really cold really quickly so I spun back to the car, changed into some jeans and a puffy jacket and watched the rest of the racing. Thankfully the "All You Care To Eat Pancakes" guy was out, so for $5 I filled my belly.
For the other riders the course dried out and actually got really fast. I was blown away with how fast the pros, women and men, were able to ride. Cyclocross racing is truly a skill all it's own.
 |
| The bike looking a bit dirty post race. Photo: C. Johnson |
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Weather report
The weather has finally changed, and drastically. Reasonably warm mornings have been replaced with frost and light snow on roofs. The roads are still clear so it just means more layers before heading out on the road or trails. Getting dressed to ride in the cold definitely requires more thought and time, and bad decisions have greater consequences.
Bitter cold air bites at my face, hands and feet. Windproof layers are a must. The cold and numbness slips into my feet and hands. Sometimes my hands sting, then they warm up. Handling the bike is awkward, my hands wrapped in multiple layers. Trying to manipulate the small click button on my iPhone is impossible so I choose my playlist wisely.
The wind bites at my exposed face, focusing my efforts. The days of riding just to ride are done, every pedal stroke has a purpose. The cold keeps my mind from wandering, I'm focused on what needs to get done. In this, the cold is a benefit. It toughens my mind and reaffirms what I get out of pushing my body. I know that down the road I'll think back to these cold days and know that I've put in the hard miles and have the toughness to get through it.
But this is Colorado, next week may bring the warm fall weather back. In past years I've had days in January riding in 50 degree sunshine. I'm hopeful that this winter will provide snow where I want it, up in the mountains, and keep it dry below 6,000 ft. You never know so I'm prepared for anything.
On Sunday I'm lining up with the big boys. It's a major race, part of the US Grand Prix of Cyclocross, in Fort Collins. They are combining the Cat 2 and 3's, so I'll be thrown in with guys much faster than myself. I don't mind that, you only get better by racing faster guys. It's going to be cold, it may be muddy or wet, but either way I'm going to be ready to give it all I have.
Bitter cold air bites at my face, hands and feet. Windproof layers are a must. The cold and numbness slips into my feet and hands. Sometimes my hands sting, then they warm up. Handling the bike is awkward, my hands wrapped in multiple layers. Trying to manipulate the small click button on my iPhone is impossible so I choose my playlist wisely.
The wind bites at my exposed face, focusing my efforts. The days of riding just to ride are done, every pedal stroke has a purpose. The cold keeps my mind from wandering, I'm focused on what needs to get done. In this, the cold is a benefit. It toughens my mind and reaffirms what I get out of pushing my body. I know that down the road I'll think back to these cold days and know that I've put in the hard miles and have the toughness to get through it.
But this is Colorado, next week may bring the warm fall weather back. In past years I've had days in January riding in 50 degree sunshine. I'm hopeful that this winter will provide snow where I want it, up in the mountains, and keep it dry below 6,000 ft. You never know so I'm prepared for anything.
On Sunday I'm lining up with the big boys. It's a major race, part of the US Grand Prix of Cyclocross, in Fort Collins. They are combining the Cat 2 and 3's, so I'll be thrown in with guys much faster than myself. I don't mind that, you only get better by racing faster guys. It's going to be cold, it may be muddy or wet, but either way I'm going to be ready to give it all I have.
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