100% Dance Hit Action!

When it's 6am on a Tuesday, 2°C outside, my legs and back are still twitching from last night's squat session; there's only one thing for it. To go like hell.

This morning's training session was a rip-snorter. Coach Daryl kept us going so we didn't get cold. Not much danger of that. The 50 lap warmup was even jiggier than usual courtesy of Ray "The Professor" and Miss Steph "accidentally" running a 94inch gear from the get-go. Warmup comfort factor was further diminished by a dodgy saddle setup. CD has managed to ratchet my saddle up to the point where it's more than 40mm higher than I ride on my road bike. Combined with a brutally up-hill saddle angle this made for some interesting peddling.

A couple of entries, quick saddle adjustment, whack on a big gear and we're into it.

My heart-rate regularly dipping into the 170's I don't dare venture too far from the puke bin. Some days my legs do just as I ask, and this was one of them. Smash into those pedals and the bike just goes forward. No squares here, just flying arcs of kickarse fun.

Jumping off the top of the track already in the high forties, I swoop at the two hundred metre line like a wedgie on a rabbit kitten. I leave nothing but a stray puff of grey fur. Hooking into a team sprint I realise I'm going 50kph and no more than a hand's width off the tyre in front of me.

It's mornings like this I know just why I love being on a bike so much. For these two hours I become something other than a ganglanky biped. I'm spinning circles, in circles in glorious circles. Now I just need to find somewhere to lay-down for a while to stop twitching.

...

Solstice - It Can Only Get Better

I've been searching for the inspiration to write more rubbish here and having ridden to work in the thick, wet fog on the shortest day of the year seems like a logical place to start.

I have no idea what I've been up to since my last post except that I've been having a whole bunch of fun on my bike. The track is really a great place to be when it's cold and wet but I've been really itching to get a few K's under my wheels out on the road.

Last Monday I rode from Whitfield to Whitlands on a lovely sunny winters day and the taste for riding was right there in my mouth. There was barely a breath of wind it was a lovely 10 degrees and even the contrails guided our way up the hill. The descent was just as much fun, spinning out 52-12 much too easily. The company was wonderful too.

What am I doing next? Who knows. Right now I'm just enjoying riding and learning. Racing the track, getting my bum kicked by spotty teenagers. Bombing down hills on my lovely plastic bike or punting to work on the fixie in the fog.

Coming up I have the Preston Mountain Classic, Mallee Routes, the State Masters Road Champs, Aus Masters Roads, Perth-Albany-Perth and the High Plains Road Race. Beyond that, I'll wait and see.

Let's see how I go just writing about it a bit here as the days stretch out.

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First Blood and Fun on the Track

On Saturday, I received my first dose of "Track Rash". Those nasty scrapes and burns one gets when sharing skin with the surface of a velodrome. The lucky velodrome in question was at Ararat where I was for the Lady Diamond Stakes.

The worst part of this was that I didn't race. Didn't even get on a bicycle.


So how did I manage to take lumps out of my knee, elbow and hip? I was pusher for the Track Princess. This involves holding the bike and rider upright until the gun, then running and pushing them into the race. Simple? Not when you have size 13 feet and the coordination of an epileptic praying mantis.

So boom, down I went, face first onto the concrete. In my defence, I kept pushing right to the deck, as evidenced by the fact that I didn't even get a hand down to break my fall.

As it turned out Endurogirl recovered from the somewhat distracted start to qualify for the final of the 1000m wheel race. :)

All up it was a really great afternoon of racing. Highlights of the afternoon were Apryl Eppinger's bolt from the scratch mark to swamp the frontmarkers in the Ladies Diamond Stakes with 10 metres to spare. She also proceded to win just about everything else as well. Then there was the amazing effort of Miles Olman who one the A grade scratch race by puting a lap on the field. There was also the fun of seeing friends like Wayne Gebert win C grade motor-pace and the C grade scratch race with a daring attack or Emy Huntsman pulling third in the Ladies Diamonds.

Go watch some track racing soon. It's so much fun.

Coming up are:

Sid Patterson Grand Prix and Melbourne Madison - Friday 26/2 @ DISC
Mebourne Cup on Wheels Afternoon Carnival - Saturday 27/2 @ DISC
Revolution 6 & Melbourne Cup on Wheels - Saturday 27/2 @ DISC
Bendigo International Madison - Saturday and Sunday 6-7/3 @ Bendigo

Go watch some really amazing bike racing. It's cheaper than cricket or football and way more exciting.

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Confusing Your Chamois With Your Chainsaw?

I really don't get to see many other cyclists on my epic trans suburban commute. I cover 60km each way and the only other cyclist I see normally is the guy who bundles up the herbs at the local chinese fruit, veg and grocery shop on his 20 year old Kmart mountain bike. You know the one with an aging polystyrene foam box held to the rack with a bungee cord. He rides in thongs, in winter. I cover roads with a total of about 3.6km of useless, intermittent bike lanes.

So, with all this in mind, it's not surprising that the Great Cycling Boom in commuter bike use has gone largely unnoticed. Imagine my surprise on my way home last night, to see this large ad on the back of a bus, warning about the use of inferior chamois.

At about this point, I'd ridden in the same knicks at track training and then on to work in the morning and had clocked another 50km in muggy 34 degree heat, into a headwind on the way home. So this wasn't far from how my knicks were feeling. It's not entirely clear from the ad though, just which knicks use this special chamois. Assos - I'll bet.

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Car Free

This week looks like being a little challenging. I'm car free following the sardine can impersonation it did while refusing to let go of the bicycles and racks vouchsafed to it. It's off at the car hospital being made well, or at least being made back into a sedan.

This is much more than can be said for the bikes. Endurogirl's beloved Luna was pronounced beyond help by Dr Raoul on the weekend and the Yellow Peril Meh(k) is sporting terminal cracks in the top and seat tubes. So it's fun and games time with insurance companies who seem to have made a new sport in obstacle forms.

Add to this the fact that Meh(k) and Bianchi have both screwed up their new model intro's to the extent that it's almost impossible to get our hands on replacement frames and we're in for a bit of mucking around to get back on the road.

While the car is off at the hospital, I'm getting lots of k's under the wheels of Grace the fixed wheel workhorse.


This morning I did track training and then rode to work. A couple of sets of flying starts off the top of the bank in an 81 inch gear has left my legs in that over-cooked spaghetti state. I feel very tired now.......

It looks like I'll be knocking out my first week of more than 400km for quite a while. Unless you count the week before last.

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Feeling Out Of Place In Puke Town

With Mountain Goat Season now firmly behind me it's time to get serious about getting some speeeeeeed! With this in mind I turned up to track training, keen to show I'm determined to become a proper racer. I put on my wonderful new NancyBoy Skinsuit and suitably adjusted my attitude to purposeful.

I realised pretty much right away that I was pushing it uphill. It's embarrassing to say the least when you sit next to Endurogirl and Miss Poidy. Their quads really are bigger than my waist.

Track Princesses after a grueling set of flying 500m reps.

The thing that really troubles me about becoming a real trackie is that it doesn't seem to matter how hard I smash myself against that track, I just can't drive myself puke. All these seasoned sprinters seem to be able to summon a technicolour yawn by talking about a set of three deadlifts. Even big tough Eddie seemed to easily push himself to the point of barfville. I drive myself to the max, sprint repeats, two laps, four laps, six laps, full tunnel vision, weak at the knees, spots before the eyes, the whole velodrome spins - no up-chucking. I feel like a failure.
Miss Poidy was able to reduce herself to horizontal after one set. I find myself frustratingly still standing. Even a dose of East German Institute of Sport developed hypnotherapy from coach DJ wasn't enough to coax a barf from me.

I'm obviously going to have to resort to Puke Enhancing Drugs if I'm ever going to compete at this elite level. Ipecac Syrup or maybe even a rubber vomit from Bernard's Magic Shop. I've got one here now, but I'm worried some of the carrot chunks don't conform to a UCI 1:3 ratio.

God this track racing gets complicated...

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ACE 2010 - Take 5

kind of buzz that lasts for days

had some help from insect ways

comes across all shy and coy

just another nancy boy

woman man or modern monkey

just another happy junkie

fifty pounds, press my button

going down

and it all breaks down at the role reversal

got the muse in my head she's universal

spinnin' me round 'cos she's coming over me

and it all breaks down at the first rehearsal

got the muse in my head she's universal

spinnin' me round 'cos she's coming over me

Placebo - nancy boy