Friday, July 27, 2007

Battle Plan

Tomorrow is the Diamond Valley Classic road race. At this time last year I got bitten by a spider a few days earlier in the week, which resulted in antibiotics. I can remember getting dropped at the very beginning…on the decent, I was actually winded on the decent.

Good news this year as of now no spider bites…fingers crossed. I am going to go into this race with a game plan. The plan…race smart, sounds like a no brainier. No matter how slow the pace goes I will not move to the front and put my dick out in the wind.

The race is a 4 lap 44 mile race with what they say is two climbs, although I only remember one. The hardest part about the race will be the wind; it always veers its nasty face on this strip of land. It should be a big enough deterrent to discourage attacks, which will likely cause the pace to drop. I will just need to play it smart and sit in the draft. I hate saying I plan to sit in, but all the attacking I have done this year hasn’t paid off for me. I know I have the fitness and the knowledge to be a cat 3; I just don’t have the points.

So the plan is to sit in for the first three laps, and I am free and clear to do what I like on the last lap. I need to pay attention on the last climb and see if a group tries to attack there. I imagine that will be the only place a break will likely happen. Hopefully it will be a group of 10 to the finish, if so I will rely on my field sprinting capabilities to bring me to the front.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

My Eng 102 paper draft 1, still setting the background

On June 8th of 1998 a naive adolescent boy took a pair of head trimmers to his short brown hair. Each pass of the warm metal trimmers to his scalp produced small stubbles that mimicked five o’clock shadow. The hair cut represented a step closer to freedom, no more class pictures, conforming to parent’s standards, and most of all summer fun in the sun. His parents didn’t appreciate the shaved head look; it reminded them of a degenerate punk kid. He will always remember that period of fun in the sun as the summer that nearly cost him his life. How it could be that this simple rebellion against authority could cause this child the fear and pain that being diagnosed with stage IV melanoma skin cancer brings?
June 8th was the first real day of summer, the first Monday since school had been let out for summer brake. The boy, whom I will refer to as Andrew was ready to start his break…to start it off with a bang. He spent the entire first day in the 90 degree heat of the desert building dirt ramps to ride his bicycle off of. Andrew had no care in the world he hastily left the house in a pair of cargo shorts and a plain white tee. He decided to not ware a hat, hoping that he would get a little sun on his Uncle Fester snow white dome. He will come to regret the latter but ultimately be thankful for this life changing gift.
The day had passed by extremely fast, Andrew decided to go home since he was feeling dehydrated. Andrew entered the front door and walked through the hallway noticing his reflection in the mirror Andrew turned back for further investigation. What he saw was his face and neck glowing red with sweat droplets forming on his brow. His forehead glistened as the sweat dripped down his chin. Andrew was accustomed to strenuous athletic activities, in his mind he figured he was merely exhausted from riding his bike, nothing some water and a cold shower couldn’t cure. He turned the cold water knob on in the shower, lifted the switch, a cold drizzle of water began to spray, he pulled the curtain shut and started to undress. As he removed his shirt he could see the result of his intense day of riding. What he thought was just heat exhaustion was the remnants of a bad sun burn. The fury of which young Andrew attacked the dirt jumps was like a fire roaring up a canyon hillside, the only fire seen today was the one that burned on his face. He placed his hand against his cheek, warm pulses passed over his fingers in a continues pulse, Andrew could feel his heart starting to race…as too were the pulses. His first thought was, “my moms going to kill me”.
Andrew had good reason to be fearful, his mother is a nurse. She worked exhausting twelve hour shifts and looked forward to coming home and sharing the recap of her and Andrews’s day. Many, many summaries from Pam, Andrew’s mom, were about the kids she had taken care of that day. Andrew has been warned numerous times about wearing sun block, yet he continues to throw caution to the wind. There is a moment in an adolescents life when they learn that there are limitations in life, when you fall you don’t bounce up on your marry way, your body gives out, you discover you are no longer invincible. Andrew doesn’t understand this concept…yet. Andrew finishes his shower, decides the best course of action is to wear a baseball cap to cover up the evidence. He finds it quite painful to squeeze his swollen head into his fitted ball cap.
Pam comes home and sorts through the daily mail and calls for Andrew, she had not seen him sitting in the corner recliner where the lights were low. As Pam approached she noticed something was wrong, as obvious as an oil spill stands out in the ocean, Andrews burn was a beacon of light. Pam was quite upset with him, and quickly informed him of his poor decision of shaving his head. She did what she could with the aloe vera and cocoa butter. “You can only have a couple bad burns in your life” she tells him, “And this is one of them”.
The next morning Andrew looked at his pillow cover and noticed a stain, and what appeared to be remnants of a scab scattered across the bed sheet. Further investigation at the mirror revealed that the sunburn had scabbed up in a Y shape across the young boys head. The Y shape resembled the connecting points you would see on the bone of a human’s skull. Reality quickly settled in, Andrew knew he had burnt himself bad. He assured himself that if this burn turned out fine in the long run that he would never get a burn like that again, he would always use sun block, and cover up with proper clothing. Only time could mend these wounds, and so he waited, as he waited more and more yellow puss dried up followed by it flaking off. It made a terrible mess but was a reminder of the seriousness of the situation at hand. Time slowly passed as did the re-growth of his hair.
July had rolled around, which can only mean one thing in the Miller household, BASEBALL, not just any type of baseball but all-star season. Andrew had been selected to his local leagues team. If there’s one thing that is certain as the ocean is blue, it is that baseball players are superstitious, and this team was exactly that. After the last practice before the first game the players decided to shave they’re heads for good luck and camaraderie. Andrew knew this was going to be a problem, through the evening he lingered over the decision. He decided to risk it; he would always wear a hat and put the proper sun block on each morning. Applying sun block had now become a ritual that followed brushing his teeth daily.
During the first game of the season Andrew’s teammates noticed a bump on the back of his head that looked rather strange to them. For the teammates to point out a strange looking bump on his head had to be significant, for boys of 15 and 16 years of age bumps are a way of life. As the game ended, the gear packed up, Andrew left to find his mom in the stands. He asked for her to examine the bump on his head. She observed a bump with the circumference of a quarter, which had what appeared to be a blood blister at the top of it. Andrew couldn’t remember bumping his head as of late, but that wasn’t saying much as he always had a new scrape or bruise on his body that he was unaware of. Pam knew this bump didn’t look right, the following day she made an appointment with a respected dermatologist in town, Dr. Dan Rowe.
Going to the doctors may sound scary for some but not Andrew; he had grown up in one. He would go to work with his mom and help out the best he could. He loved getting shots, or watching the doctors draw blood. It didn’t matter what a doctor did, the wheels in his head were clearly turning in the eyes of everyone around him, it was obvious the boy was curious about medicine. The day had come for the examination of his bump; he already knew what the doctor was going to do before hand, which made some doctors upset. In past visits to the Doctors office Andrew would describe his symptoms, followed by his diagnosis, and lastly what type of medicine to prescribe him. Andrew thought Doctors would be impressed but had found the opposite to be true. The Rowe poked around and explained he was going to remove a portion of the bump, the blood blister part, and send it away for further examination. In the simplest form he had a mini cookie cutter that was placed over the blister and gently tapped on it with a hammer until a small sliver was removed. The biopsy looked suspicious, Doctor Rowe showed Andrew and Pam the long roots that were coming from what looked like a blood blister. Rowe informed us blood blisters don’t have roots, and that he would call the following day with the results.
At the time Andrew didn’t think much of it but his mom certainly knew what was at stake. Sure enough the phone call came from Rowe to Pam. Pam explained to Andrew that he had an appointment at the University of California San Francisco Melanoma Clinic in four days, they just want to run a couple of test on you, that’s all. UCSF is one of the premier melanoma cancer centers in the states, when you have a serious problem you go to one of two places the one in Virginia or the one in San Francisco. At the time Andrew didn’t understand the severity of this appointment, his mother had done a good job of masking the problem. Andrew just thought he had some type of basal cell that may or may not be cancerous.
Fear of the unknown hit Andrew on the drive from Reno to UCSF, his mother, younger brother, and father had made the journey. Sounds like a typical family coming to support him, but nothing could be further from the truth. Andrews’s parents had been divorced for several years, the two were not on speaking terms, in fact the only speaking done was by Andrews’s father, who would say hurtful derogatory comments about his mom. For Andrew to see the two of them getting along on the car trip down told him something was terribly wrong. For the first time thoughts of dieing raced through his head, why else would the family be here, if it was just a routine test there should be no need for all the support. Andrew wondered if he had cancer, if it was routine then why he was driving to UCSF when there’s plenty of Doctors in Reno that can handle the situation. Questions of what if and why raced through his head until it physically made his stomach upset, then he pondered if feeling sick was the cancer eating at him?

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Elk Horn Stage Race

I think I am finally ready to comment on my experience at the Elk Horn Stage Race. I decide to arrive a day earlier then the first stage on Friday afternoon because I seem to have cramping problems when I go to Oregon. I felt if I got there a day early I could acclimate myself to the surroundings. With all that extra time I guess I should have slowed down as I was in cruising down the highway. I was about an hour out of Baker City, where the race is hosted when I look in the rear view mirror to see the flashing lights. This was a first for me, an attractive female trooper. She didn’t mess around, all business for her. Went back to her car to right me a ticket up, I figure I am already getting a ticket so what would be the harm of hitting on her. She explained to me that the only way I was going to see her again is if I wanted to spend the night at her place of business, the slammer. Surprisingly I shut my big mouth up sign my ticket and motored out with the cruise control on.
The first stage is an 80 mile out and back road race. I talked with several master’s racers that explained to me that the group will finish together. I was happy to hear that as a road race win has eluded me for some time now. I’ve come so close that it hurts. I tell myself, “What the hell lets go for the win today”. I position myself at the very front for the neutral start of the race. Just before the race starts I drop back to about 10th or so. I sit in for the first ten miles. I decide that the 15mph pace were going at is unacceptable and move to the front to set the pace. I switch off and let others take my pace, and sure as shit they dropped the pace again. There are only three guys willing to sit on the front and work. My turn to take a pull comes around and I slowly work my pace up to what I feel is a pace I can hold tell the cows come home. I finish my pull and look back and I’ve gapped the field. I decided Id had enough and would just continue on by myself. I downed both of my water bottles just before the turn around. The organizers have set up a neutral feed just past the turnaround on a hill. I figure I am ready to get a couple of bottles, I was definitely wrong on that. I was back with the group somewhere in the middle of the pack. I ended up going through the feed zone with out getting a water bottle. I slowed up as much as I could to give the feeders a chance to give me a bottle but they had run out. I wonder how many riders didn’t get a bottle at the back. I tried to get a bottle from the trailing car but the lady was having a hard time driving and handing a bottle to me. As can be imagined the group is now leaving me as I am trying to get some water. I just said the hell with this and tried to catch back on with the group. I just couldn’t get back in; the effort to get back in with no water took a toll on me. I started getting dizzy and having visions of Indians on horses running beside me trying to spear me. Every negative though one can have about cycling passed through my head on the 40 mile return trip into the wind. I got back to camp to find out I was about 40mins behind the leaders, which pretty much tells me my chances for the overall are gone. Come to find out the kid camping next to me won the race, and all he talk about is how good he is and all that. How he just sat in the whole time and let everyone else do the work. I wanted to punch right through his face. I’ve now got some anger in my gut, and tomorrow morning I would have my chance to take it out in the time trial.
Our group was the first off for the time trial, they reversed the order of how you finished the day before for your start time. They sent us off in 30sec intervals, I was the 14th person to start and I swear to you the steam was coming out of my ears. I was ready to hand everyone there a beating. I end up being the first person across the finish line. It wasn’t my best performance I was only able to hold 300 watts for my average. I think the day before took a toll on me. I find out that my effort was only good enough for 4th.
After hearing that I wasn’t in much of a mood for the crit later in the day. I made sure that I got a good starting position for the crit, off course some douch bag local moves in front of me to be by his friend. I am sick and tired of having idiots who cant clip into there pedals starting in front of me. Let it be known right now the next jackass who does that is going to get knocked down. I can already feel my blood pressure rising as I reflect on the race. People cant keep there speed up in the corners, it seems to be a fact of life. I never had this problem racing during the collegiate season everybody was smooth and fast. Different story when it comes to racing cat 4/5. Guys are coming out of every corner full on out of the saddle making up for the gap they created through the corner because there chicken shits. I ended up getting a 20 dollar preme, but what I wanted was the win. I thought I was all set for the win on the last lap I was sitting 10th wheel into the last three corners. I had checked before the race started to see where the wind was blowing and how I should position myself. It was a long wide open finishing straight with a cross wind coming from the left. I figure if I came through the last left hand corner on the outside with six or so guys in front of me I could use them for shelter and just bomb pass them on the outside. I know it would have worked if it wasn’t for some yahoo who decided he needed to move around on the outside to get a better position. I don’t know whats wrong with me, am I loosing my balls or what but he ends up getting in front of me, more or less out of fear he was going to crash me. He ends up driving himself into a pothole and blowing his tire. The asshole should have just moved to the right since he was already on the outside. He decides to move into the pack on the left. I should have went around him on the right, but if I get a flat I am moving off to the right where the sidewalk is not into the pack. This decision of mine trapped me and a bunch of other riders. It ended up splitting the field. At this point id had enough of this race and decieded to call it and go home. The last thing I need is to do the next stage of 100 miles and have a miserable time, and then drive through the night to get home at 3 in the morning. So I bailed on the last stage and my money for the TT and preme.
I wasn’t taught to be a bully in a pack. I was taught the right way to race but I am now having thoughts of wrecking these middle aged rich white guys when I have these problems again. I am thinking of doing that, not sure if I will but who knows.