Friday, May 26, 2006
Jay's trip to central Florida
Well it has been a great week here at The Villages in central Florida. I will have over 100 miles in by the time I leave. The rides here are beautiful with views ranging from gators to golf carts. The Villages is set in central Florida 40 miles or so south of Ocala. It is a golf cart community which makes for some stiff competition on the bike. These folks can take there golf cart any place in the community, Wal Mart,Winn Dixie or happy hour at one of two town squares. I envision a place like this for us (cyclists) someday. There will be a bike path to everything,no cars or buses just bikes. For those of you with folks that like to golf check out www.thevillages.com. Oh yeah ,those bikes below are mine all mine!
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
The Legend of El Possimo
One trainer night, over the winter, we were joking with Josh about how fast he is. In our giddy lactic haze we decided that he should go pro. And if he were to go pro, he would need a proper nickname. You know, like "The Eagle of Toledo", Il Falco, etc. Jimmy came up with "The Possum of Mansfield". But then we decided it should have more of a European flavor, and Josh was soon dubbed El Possimo.
That is his legend. Here is his logo:
That is his legend. Here is his logo:
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Conquering the setbacks of bicycle training
Have you ever had one of those experiences in life when you finally realized what you are? I have. Let me tell you about it.
I was riding my road bike one gorgeous spring afternoon. The ride was an epic training ride. It was a ride of pure sensation. It was speed and rhythm and joy. As the journey neared its destination one sensation dominated all the others. I really, really had to pee.
Generally, this is not a problem. However, being the bashful guy that I am combined with the fact that I was riding along a busy highway, I just wouldn’t take care of business and risk offending a lot people. So on I rode until I had only one option left; get to the nearest business and help myself to their facilities. I think in most cases this would be a reasonable strategy. Besides being bashful, apparently I am not too bright either because I decided to stop at a rather busy Harley Davidson shop (we are all bikers right?).
I casually rode up to the front door propped my bike against the front of the building and opened the front door. It was at this point that I realized the error of my ways. It was a scene straight from an old western; all the outlaws are at the bar and the new guy in town walks through the doors and all activity stops. As the stranger takes a step into the bar all eyes are attracted to his every move. There is an electric charged tension in the air. Something is going to happen, everyone just waits for the catalyst that will set dire events into motion.
There I was the lone underfed-gaudy colored-spandexed cyclist amidst a crowd of beefy-bald headed-leather wearing-facial hair growing motorcyclist. I had two choices; turn and leave with my limbs intact and risk an embarrassing accident in the parking lot or dig into my rather small suitcase of courage and ask to use the bathroom. I chose the bathroom. Like the lone cowboy I sidled up to the bar (or was it a check out counter?). I asked the bartender (or was it a cashier?) for whiskey (or was it the bathroom?). They directed me through the crowd of regulars to a door in the back just like in the cowboy movie. I walked through the crowd with my back straight, looking neither left nor right. My walk was the walk of a man with a purpose (I really had to go). My spurs cha-chinged with every step (or was it my cleats clomping on the floor?).
I made it to the restroom and couldn’t lock the door fast enough. I took care of my business and left the saloon (or was it a Harley shop) with my limbs intact. It wasn’t until I was on my bike on the road that I finally knew what I was. I am a scrawny-lycra wearing-Gatorade guzzling-road racing-babe detracting cyclist…that’s right I am a cyclist and I don’t have to pee anymore. What's more, when I train I stay clear of Harley shops.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Addison Road Race - by Jimmy Guignard
May 6, 2006
When Tom and Sheila picked me up a cloudy Saturday morning, Sheila wasn’t a happy stoker. Apparently she woke up crooked, and the fact that I couldn’t figure out how to work the fork mount on the Thule rack left her sputtering in frustration. She secured my bike to the car, muttering expletives under her breath, while I folded myself into the back of the plush Oswald Cycle Works Team Micro Car and cowered. I should have known that Sheila’s mood was premonition of things to come.
The weather in Addison was questionable. Forty-seven degrees and cloudy skies. I spent precious energy shivering outside the trick team car, debating on knickers or shorts. While I fumbled with my shorts, Tom and Sheila motored off on the tandem to warm up. I soon followed with Jared. Twenty-five minutes before the starting gun, the skies opened. In minutes, I was soaked, and my legs felt raw from the rain and road spray. Should have gone with the knickers. Water ran down my legs and into my shoes, and soon I had a bad case of squishy toe. Crap. This race was gonna be miserable.
And it was. We lined up, a random sampling of fifty or so yahoos in various states of hypothermia, including some people in cotton (?!!) and a couple of guys on recumbents (one wearing cotton!). The gun fired and we were off, cruising easily at about 23 mph right into the teeth of the rain and the wind. Getting comfortable in the pack was out of the question—road spray made tight drafting unpleasant, like riding in a pack of weirdly-dressed, mischievous teens wielding Super Soakers full of cold, gritty water.
And so we rode. Seeing a small climb ahead and finding myself about 2/3s of the way back in the pack, I pulled out and rode to the front. I knew there was short climb somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where, so I figured I’d make everyone pass me if this was it. It turned out not to be much of a climb, and I was able to chat with Jared a bit. I noticed a guy in a yellow jersey off to my right looking across the front of the pack and acting itchy to make something happen. Sure enough, near the top Yellow Jersey jumped—right before the downhill and into the headwind. Needless to say, he didn’t get far—maybe twenty-five yards—before the pack quickly reeled him in. It reminded me of a brilliant attack I initiated once in a road race—downhill with a tailwind. I’ve gotten smarter about burning my matches since then, not that I could light one at Addison anyway.
We finally hit the hill about a mile later. (Actually, around here, I guess one would call it a “hill-let.”) I flubbed it for two reasons: 1) I wasn’t aggressive in trying to stay with the leaders; and 2) I wasn’t fit enough to be aggressive. At the top, I looked around and saw Tom and Sheila, Pam, Jane, and Pony-Tailed Dude. We weren’t far from the lead group, and I briefly had hopes of catching them. But we didn’t get organized quickly enough and that was that. Bye, bye, main field.
After the turnaround, we had a tailwind. I locked in behind the Tom and Sheila-powered tandem and felt like Petacchi’s offspring as we motored along at 34 mph. It wasn’t to last. We settled into a rhythm. T & S pulled on the down hills, I pulled on the up hills, we got attacked by other riders. T & S pulled on the down hills, I pulled on the up hills, we got attacked. As so it went for several miles. I was getting a bit grumpy, and bumped everyone off the tandem’s wheel after my pulls. Weirdly enough, Sheila’s mood was now the brightest part of the race as she joked about food and cold and other silliness.
By this time, my body was rebelling in a big way. My jaws were numb, and I couldn’t feel my arms from the elbow down. I kept trying to shake blood into my hands to no avail. At times, I wasn’t sure I could maintain control of the bars.
About six miles from the finish, our gruppetto had a chat, and we started working together. Soon, we had a fully functioning paceline. Big fun! We covered the final few miles in style, until finish line shenanigans bubbled over. T & S jacked up the pace, providing me with an excellent lead out. I sprinted for what turned out to be 21st place. Kind of goofy, I know, but it was nice to have a kick after 34 cold, wet, hard miles.
No need for a cool down. We rode straight to the car and shivered into dry clothes. Numb from the elbows down, I could barely pull my wet shorts down or dry shorts up. We walked inside the school and told war stories while we shivered uncontrollably.
A shout out to the following folks:
• Kudos to the group for riding so safely in such poor conditions.
• T & S were total studs on the tandem. They won their category. Awesome performance from two people who don’t eat meat!
• Joe Allis TT’d in by himself from the turnaround. We couldn’t catch him. He also finished second in his age group. Total studliness!
• Jared finished fourth overall. Pretty good for another guy who doesn’t eat meat!
• Tioga Tom Kaufman had a strong race as well, finishing 16th.
• Addison did a superb job hosting the race. I look forward to it again next year.
- Jimmy Guignard
When Tom and Sheila picked me up a cloudy Saturday morning, Sheila wasn’t a happy stoker. Apparently she woke up crooked, and the fact that I couldn’t figure out how to work the fork mount on the Thule rack left her sputtering in frustration. She secured my bike to the car, muttering expletives under her breath, while I folded myself into the back of the plush Oswald Cycle Works Team Micro Car and cowered. I should have known that Sheila’s mood was premonition of things to come.
The weather in Addison was questionable. Forty-seven degrees and cloudy skies. I spent precious energy shivering outside the trick team car, debating on knickers or shorts. While I fumbled with my shorts, Tom and Sheila motored off on the tandem to warm up. I soon followed with Jared. Twenty-five minutes before the starting gun, the skies opened. In minutes, I was soaked, and my legs felt raw from the rain and road spray. Should have gone with the knickers. Water ran down my legs and into my shoes, and soon I had a bad case of squishy toe. Crap. This race was gonna be miserable.
And it was. We lined up, a random sampling of fifty or so yahoos in various states of hypothermia, including some people in cotton (?!!) and a couple of guys on recumbents (one wearing cotton!). The gun fired and we were off, cruising easily at about 23 mph right into the teeth of the rain and the wind. Getting comfortable in the pack was out of the question—road spray made tight drafting unpleasant, like riding in a pack of weirdly-dressed, mischievous teens wielding Super Soakers full of cold, gritty water.
And so we rode. Seeing a small climb ahead and finding myself about 2/3s of the way back in the pack, I pulled out and rode to the front. I knew there was short climb somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where, so I figured I’d make everyone pass me if this was it. It turned out not to be much of a climb, and I was able to chat with Jared a bit. I noticed a guy in a yellow jersey off to my right looking across the front of the pack and acting itchy to make something happen. Sure enough, near the top Yellow Jersey jumped—right before the downhill and into the headwind. Needless to say, he didn’t get far—maybe twenty-five yards—before the pack quickly reeled him in. It reminded me of a brilliant attack I initiated once in a road race—downhill with a tailwind. I’ve gotten smarter about burning my matches since then, not that I could light one at Addison anyway.
We finally hit the hill about a mile later. (Actually, around here, I guess one would call it a “hill-let.”) I flubbed it for two reasons: 1) I wasn’t aggressive in trying to stay with the leaders; and 2) I wasn’t fit enough to be aggressive. At the top, I looked around and saw Tom and Sheila, Pam, Jane, and Pony-Tailed Dude. We weren’t far from the lead group, and I briefly had hopes of catching them. But we didn’t get organized quickly enough and that was that. Bye, bye, main field.
After the turnaround, we had a tailwind. I locked in behind the Tom and Sheila-powered tandem and felt like Petacchi’s offspring as we motored along at 34 mph. It wasn’t to last. We settled into a rhythm. T & S pulled on the down hills, I pulled on the up hills, we got attacked by other riders. T & S pulled on the down hills, I pulled on the up hills, we got attacked. As so it went for several miles. I was getting a bit grumpy, and bumped everyone off the tandem’s wheel after my pulls. Weirdly enough, Sheila’s mood was now the brightest part of the race as she joked about food and cold and other silliness.
By this time, my body was rebelling in a big way. My jaws were numb, and I couldn’t feel my arms from the elbow down. I kept trying to shake blood into my hands to no avail. At times, I wasn’t sure I could maintain control of the bars.
About six miles from the finish, our gruppetto had a chat, and we started working together. Soon, we had a fully functioning paceline. Big fun! We covered the final few miles in style, until finish line shenanigans bubbled over. T & S jacked up the pace, providing me with an excellent lead out. I sprinted for what turned out to be 21st place. Kind of goofy, I know, but it was nice to have a kick after 34 cold, wet, hard miles.
No need for a cool down. We rode straight to the car and shivered into dry clothes. Numb from the elbows down, I could barely pull my wet shorts down or dry shorts up. We walked inside the school and told war stories while we shivered uncontrollably.
A shout out to the following folks:
• Kudos to the group for riding so safely in such poor conditions.
• T & S were total studs on the tandem. They won their category. Awesome performance from two people who don’t eat meat!
• Joe Allis TT’d in by himself from the turnaround. We couldn’t catch him. He also finished second in his age group. Total studliness!
• Jared finished fourth overall. Pretty good for another guy who doesn’t eat meat!
• Tioga Tom Kaufman had a strong race as well, finishing 16th.
• Addison did a superb job hosting the race. I look forward to it again next year.
- Jimmy Guignard
Addison Road Race - by Tom Oswald
May 6, 2006
What do you get when you combine 46 nutjobs in tight shorts with 45 bicycles and 40-degree rainy weather in the Amish country of the Southern Tier of New York? You get the bone-cold, sodden manure-fest known as the Addison Road Race of ‘06. Addison is an open citizens road race that attracts all kinds of riders. This year we had everything from a dude with a GPS on his recumbent to a cadre of strong regional racers. Sheila and I were the sole tandem team.
The morning started gray but dry here in PA. Not long after we crossed the NY border, though, things changed from cool to wet and downright cold. After picking up our race number and t-shirts Sheila and I attempted a warm-up, but only succeeded in soaking our chamois (we weren’t sharing just one, but what the hell is the plural of chamois?). We were just making ourselves colder than we were before, so we retreated to the car until closer to race time. Then after shivering on the start line for a few long minutes, we were off.
Tandeming among a pack of single bikes can be challenging. It’s difficult to match the accelerations and frustrating when you’ve got good momentum going and then no place to take it when the group suddenly slows in front of you. It requires anticipation. And for the first few miles we were doing well. Reading the moves. Sitting in comfortably (if you can call taking cold spray from above and below “comfortable”). And I could see exactly what was going to happen next when this low-slung recumbent (without a GPS) came splashing past my left knee. But that didn’t make it any easier when he squirted off the front and the group snapped from a lazy blob huddling for warmth into a long thin line. Back where we were it wasn’t long before that line started to look more like a Morse code message. I asked Sheila for a little more oomph and we closed down some of those gaps and reattached ourselves to an ever-dwindling lead pack.
Things calmed down for a bit, and then we really scared the bejeebers out of an Amish man’s horse as we slogged up a rise. It was shortly after that, when I had a little better view of the road ahead, that it began to dawn on me that the rooster tail mist we were riding through was not composed entirely of rainwater. I tried to keep my mouth closed and breathe through my nose.
Next came the hills, and soon it was back mouth-breathing again as about 20 of the toughest left us gasping in their wake. We’re both riding well. Sheila is probably the fittest she’s ever been, and we were climbing faster than we ever have. Still, the tandem just doesn’t go uphill all that great, and all we could do was watch and wince as that train pulled away from the station without us. At least Jared, our teammate, was on it.
We ended up in a group of 5, including our other teammate, Jimmy G., and went into full chase mode. It took a while to get everyone to cooperate, but with Jimmy’s help we finally got organized and roared back into town with a strong tailwind and legs numbed by the cold. It’s hard to believe that we never caught back up to the leaders, because it felt like we were absolutely flying. Anyway, it felt great that Sheila and I were able to do the lion’s share of the work. And when it came down to the end we were able to practice some good teamwork and lead Jimmy out for an excellent sprint, even if it was for 21st place. The best news is that Jared finished 4th in his battle for the win, and he took 1st in his age group.
Basically for us, the whole thing came down to 90 minutes of abject misery, followed immediately by an intense sense of euphoria. The suffering was over. Once we stopped shivering enough to get the car key in the lock, we’d be able to get into some warm dry clothes. There was a chance we might regain the feeling in our extremities. We covered 34 miles faster than we ever have before, and under some really heinous conditions. Now that’s my idea of a birthday well spent. Oh yeah, did I mention it was my birthday? Happy birthday to me!
-Tom Oswald
What do you get when you combine 46 nutjobs in tight shorts with 45 bicycles and 40-degree rainy weather in the Amish country of the Southern Tier of New York? You get the bone-cold, sodden manure-fest known as the Addison Road Race of ‘06. Addison is an open citizens road race that attracts all kinds of riders. This year we had everything from a dude with a GPS on his recumbent to a cadre of strong regional racers. Sheila and I were the sole tandem team.
The morning started gray but dry here in PA. Not long after we crossed the NY border, though, things changed from cool to wet and downright cold. After picking up our race number and t-shirts Sheila and I attempted a warm-up, but only succeeded in soaking our chamois (we weren’t sharing just one, but what the hell is the plural of chamois?). We were just making ourselves colder than we were before, so we retreated to the car until closer to race time. Then after shivering on the start line for a few long minutes, we were off.
Tandeming among a pack of single bikes can be challenging. It’s difficult to match the accelerations and frustrating when you’ve got good momentum going and then no place to take it when the group suddenly slows in front of you. It requires anticipation. And for the first few miles we were doing well. Reading the moves. Sitting in comfortably (if you can call taking cold spray from above and below “comfortable”). And I could see exactly what was going to happen next when this low-slung recumbent (without a GPS) came splashing past my left knee. But that didn’t make it any easier when he squirted off the front and the group snapped from a lazy blob huddling for warmth into a long thin line. Back where we were it wasn’t long before that line started to look more like a Morse code message. I asked Sheila for a little more oomph and we closed down some of those gaps and reattached ourselves to an ever-dwindling lead pack.
Things calmed down for a bit, and then we really scared the bejeebers out of an Amish man’s horse as we slogged up a rise. It was shortly after that, when I had a little better view of the road ahead, that it began to dawn on me that the rooster tail mist we were riding through was not composed entirely of rainwater. I tried to keep my mouth closed and breathe through my nose.
Next came the hills, and soon it was back mouth-breathing again as about 20 of the toughest left us gasping in their wake. We’re both riding well. Sheila is probably the fittest she’s ever been, and we were climbing faster than we ever have. Still, the tandem just doesn’t go uphill all that great, and all we could do was watch and wince as that train pulled away from the station without us. At least Jared, our teammate, was on it.
We ended up in a group of 5, including our other teammate, Jimmy G., and went into full chase mode. It took a while to get everyone to cooperate, but with Jimmy’s help we finally got organized and roared back into town with a strong tailwind and legs numbed by the cold. It’s hard to believe that we never caught back up to the leaders, because it felt like we were absolutely flying. Anyway, it felt great that Sheila and I were able to do the lion’s share of the work. And when it came down to the end we were able to practice some good teamwork and lead Jimmy out for an excellent sprint, even if it was for 21st place. The best news is that Jared finished 4th in his battle for the win, and he took 1st in his age group.
Basically for us, the whole thing came down to 90 minutes of abject misery, followed immediately by an intense sense of euphoria. The suffering was over. Once we stopped shivering enough to get the car key in the lock, we’d be able to get into some warm dry clothes. There was a chance we might regain the feeling in our extremities. We covered 34 miles faster than we ever have before, and under some really heinous conditions. Now that’s my idea of a birthday well spent. Oh yeah, did I mention it was my birthday? Happy birthday to me!
-Tom Oswald
Our 2006 Season
April 12, 2006
Things are looking great for the 2006 racing season. We were able to add Fuji Bicycles as a sponsor. Many of the team members took advantage of that opportunity and are now out happily training on their new Fuji bikes. Our race calendar is shaping up nicely too, with a healthy mix of road and mountain bike events. We're adding more all the time, but here's our schedule as of now:
See you at the races,
- Tom Oswald
Things are looking great for the 2006 racing season. We were able to add Fuji Bicycles as a sponsor. Many of the team members took advantage of that opportunity and are now out happily training on their new Fuji bikes. Our race calendar is shaping up nicely too, with a healthy mix of road and mountain bike events. We're adding more all the time, but here's our schedule as of now:
Cat Classic - May 6
Addison Race Fest - May 6Mohican 100 - June 3Laurel Flyer Road Race - June 10
New York State Time Trial Championship - June 17Raccoon Rally - June 24-25
Jasper Road Race - July 1Watkins Glen - July 15
Wilderness 101 - July 29Kinzua Classic - August 13
Ole Bull Midnight Madness - August 19Shenandoah 100 - September 3
Laurel Classic Mountain Bike Challenge - September 9See you at the races,
- Tom Oswald
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