100th post.

Greetings Readers!

When I started this blog I had high aspirations, I wanted be to be the next K-man, Brooke Hoyer, Greg Keller, and even Fast Freddy. Guys whom I read daily all during cross season for race reports and getting my fix. I had delusions of grandeur, I was going to be this great blogger. People (cyclists) were going to hang on my every word, and the hit counter was going to go thru the roof. People (cyclists) were going to get their fix on all things cycling through my eyes, and the feeds were going to be a plenty. I’d be typing with a purpose on all things bike, and bringing cutting edge commentary and insight into the cycling world. It’s nice to have dreams folks, but thats not really what transpired. My audience in reality is pretty small, a handful of readers (mostly my family) that check the blog with any regularity. I’m surprised I’ve made it this far.

Somewhere amoungst my initial excitement the reality of what this blog was going to be manifested. I’m a Pack Fodder (hopelessly anonymous) cyclocross racer, husband and father, an average working Joe. That’s my perspective. I’ve tried to tell my story, the constant challenge that life presents, work, exercise, play. Trying to get to my optimal fitness level, and time it to its peak come late October, without a coach, training partner, or anything else other than my bikes and my love of the ride. I’ve come to realize that despite my efforts, I’ll never win a race or be anything other than Da Fodder. That’s ok, regardless of my knee, or whether I peak at the right time, or show up for cross with less than an optimal fitness level, one thing will remain the same. I love the bike. I love the weekend rides, I love the commutes, I love it all. I feel good when I ride.

I’ve discovered I love to write, the blog has been a great distraction from the mundane. I look forward to grabing my laptop and telling the days story, ride, commute, or just sharing some sweet steed with others. Bikes have so much personality, I’ve no bike anywhere similar to another. This blog is my story, and I’m having fun telling it. If you follow you can see patterns, the ups, and the downs. We go in cycles, us athletes, fitness is much like a repetitive cycle of peaks and valleys. All we can do is try to time it. Ironically, I feel obligated to post, despite my dismal statpress. I do like to write. I’m unfortunately an average writer much in the same way as I’m an average cyclist.

It’s all about bridging gaps. It’s all about chasing the lead group. Finishing on the lead lap is a noble goal for me, but it’s so much more. It’s all about racing the guys in front of you, and defending the guys behind you. There is always, races within the race. Spectators will not notice, or see whats happening, nor will they know what’s going on. When your comprising the pack, your just the filling, the intrest is in the icing, the podium. Anonymity runs rampant in the pack, but there are the guys whom you battle, that group of 3 or 4 that will just scrap till they puke for 50th place. Guys will give everything they have and leave it all out there on the course with nothing to gain, no glory, no podium, no accolades. Nobody is checking the OBRA results for 26th place out of a group of 75 (my best finish last year) We race for the competition, we race for the comradery, we race for ourselves. I know whom my nemisis are: and they know me. We look forward to seeing each other at the races and know we better bring out the “A” game. We elevate each other to placings we wouldn’t get otherwise. I got to know Ty last year and at the series finale in Hillsboro we both laughed and smiled on the start line glad to see each other, but we also knew, when the whistle blows, it’s kill or be killed. The race is on, Ty would not give me an inch, nor I give one to him. We had some great battles. Respect follows, racing is being alive, it’s the most cherished thing I do. During the race, I want to die it hurts so bad, as soon as it’s over, I can’t wait till the next race. Such is cross.

I had a pretty spirited ride in this morning, the sun was out, and it wasn’t cold. I felt good and rode fast on my way to my pre work cup of cappuccino @ Peets with a friend of mine. The knee wasn’t bothering me, or my high spirits were masking it well. While waiting at a stoplight, I waved to another cyclist commuting to work. As I started to go through the intersection my foot slipped out of the pedal and I gouged my calf pretty good. Not to mention I looked like retard that was just learning to ride with clipless pedals. What a rookie manuvere, Yes, I’m a retard that can’t ride a bike. I’m sure the driver of the car behind me thought I was an idiot. Oh well, not even a cramping bloody calf could dampin my spirits this morning, that was one of the best cups o jo’ I’ve had, ever. I love coffee. The ride home, in contrast was less than enjoyable. After 10 hours at work with no lunch I was spent, and the legs flat out denied me cooperation. I limped home, calf reminding me of this morning all the way. No matter, I got my 3 consecutive days in. I’m on schedule for my 2nd quarter goal. Make all the small goals, and I’ll likely hit my big ones, Logic tells me that. Or is it wishfull thinking?

The Knee is holding, not getting worse, yet not really getting any better. Sunday will give me a getter idea where it’s at.

Miles ridden today, 19

Miles ridden 2008, 1803.

Cheers!