Review: The Secret Race

I've waited a long time to weigh in on what BikeSnob has dubbed Shitstorm 2012.  I wanted to see how things would pan out before offering my opinions about Lance Armstrong's doping scandal, plus I've been busy with other things (like growing a person in my abdomen).

Ultimately, the whole thing has been pretty confusing, both mentally and emotionally.  Bruce and I got into cycling a few years ago, at a time when Bruce's father was sick with terminal cancer.  Understandably, Lance Armstrong was his hero - an amazing, successful cyclist who had beaten cancer and created Livestrong to support others dealing with the disease.  We had yellow bracelets, Livestrong gear, and even Bruce's Madone Project One was a homage to Lance:

Yes, it's still winter here

Of course, when the accusations started to get serious, we believed everything he said.  And why wouldn't we?  We weren't cycling fans during his Tour years.  We didn't know Tyler Hamilton or any of the other racers from that era from a hole in the wall.  It looked a lot like they were just throwing Lance under the bus to save their own hides.

Even after the Oprah interview, I continued to defend Lance.  Who gives a shit if he doped - everyone was doing it back then and he still beat them.  Plus, what non-cyclists don't understand is just how much strategy and teamwork goes into winning a big race like the TDF.  It takes a lot more than pure wattage to win, and Lance managed to do so repeatedly against the best cyclists in the world.

The Secret Race: Inside the Hidden World of the Tour de France - Doping, Cover-ups, and Winning at all Costs by Armstrong's former teammate Tyler Hamilton shows a very different side of the story.  To be frank, Hamilton paints Armstrong as a big douchebag.  If Hamilton is being honest, Lance is every bit the manipulative, over-competitive bully the media has made him out to be.  Reading this book has made it very difficult to view Lance in a positive light.

However, for me the discussion of Lance Armstrong's attributes was not the most interesting part of the book.  Rather, I found it fascinating to read about Tyler Hamilton's journey and the very real doping culture of professional cycling.

Hamilton raced clean for the first three years of his cycling career.  Like many cyclists, he was faced with a decision - dope or go home.  The use of performance enhancers was so prevalent in the mid to late 90s that clean racers just couldn't compete.  Hamilton chose to compete, and over time he became a team leader in his own right and a serious threat to Lance's supremacy.  Eventually, he was unlucky enough to get caught, after a blood test revealed that he had someone else's blood in his body (like, ICK).

The main forms of performance enhancement used at the time, according to Hamilton, were testosterone, EPO, and blood transfusions.  He claims that these methods are not so much for improving athletic ability, but work by preventing the loss of performance that occurs during long races (like the 3-week Tour de France).  Race organizers were unable to detect injected EPO because the body produces it naturally, so they regulated it's use by disqualifying racers with a hematocrit measuring over 50.  The trick was to get your hematocrit up over your natural level without crossing the threshold.  This allowed one's blood to carry more oxygen to the muscles.  A blood transfusion works on the same principle - that having more red blood cells allows for more oxygenation and stronger performance over long periods.  So now I know more about doping than I ever wanted to.

Hamilton says they never felt like they were cheating because everyone in the peloton was doing it.  The co-author, Daniel Coyle, adds the statement that these methods do not truly "level the playing field" because each athlete responds to them differently (footnote, page 62).  This strikes me as a stupid argument.  As far as I know, most athletes are not equal to start with, having different genes, different training and dietary regimes, and different equipment.  People don't participate in sports based on the premise that everything is equal - if they did, there wouldn't be a winner.

However, this makes me wonder about the ways society perceives doping.  Is it really cheating?  After all, it's not cheating to diet to the point of anorexia, to eat high energy foods, or to sleep in an altitude tent.  I think there's a very fuzzy line between acceptable race preparation and cheating, and where that line falls is usually determined by culture rather than science.  Testosterone and EPO are produced naturally by the body.  A blood transfusion is re-inserting blood produced by one's own bone marrow (unless the doctor mixes up the bags, in which case GET AN AIDS TEST).  Point being, we do things to alter our physiology all the time.  Sometimes it's considered cheating.  Sometimes it's not.

My favourite cyclist, Jens Voigt, gets exactly one mention in the book, on page 236.  Jens has written publicly about Shitstorm 2012, maintaining that he has never doped.  Sadly, Hamilton implies otherwise.  When Hamilton returned to racing after his suspension, he was snubbed by Jens in the peloton.  "I tried not to take it personally.  Maybe Jens was just afraid of being associated with me.  Maybe I was an unwelcome reminder of what might happen to him if he got popped."  I guess time will tell.

Just look how cool this guy is!

Overall, I'm giving the book 4 stars out of 5.  There is really interesting stuff here, both for die-hard cycling fans and those who are curious about what Lance is really like.  I will add that although the story has a ring of truth to it, I'm not quite prepared to accept all of its revelations as fact.  It's not outside the realm of possibility that Tyler Hamilton's version of events is slanted to favour Tyler Hamilton.  Nonetheless, it was really interesting and quite well-written.

Tyler Hamilton on 60 Minutes (his hair is wavy like McDreamy's!)

Fun at Sun Peaks

Every summer, Bruce and I take a week off of work and spend some time in beautiful British Columbia.  We love BC.  Every part of it is gorgeous in a different way.  The eastern Rockies, the south-central Okanagan, the Shuswap, the desert around Kamloops, the coastal mountains of the lower Coquihalla, and, our favourite, the Sunshine Coast.  It's all good.

So we meander through the interior, usually with the goal of ending up in Roberts Creek, where my grandparents reside (also known as the hippie-haven where I spent my first four years on this planet).  We camp and enjoy the scenery and (better than Alberta) weather along the way, then race through Vancouver to catch the ferry (the Sunshine Coast is on a peninsula north of Vancouver that is only accessible by ferry; Bruce still thinks it's an island, but it is actually on the mainland).

This year, our meanderings took us west from Canmore (where I had just finished participating in Dirt Series) along the TransCanada Highway.  We had carefully planned our route so that we would pass through Kamloops, an area reputed to have excellent XC trails.  After much online exploration of the area, we had decided to book a room at the nearest ski resort, Sun Peaks, and enjoy the ski lift (after all, we're on vacation; why should we have to do any climbing?).

Unfortunately, I had injured myself while biking in Canmore.  On the day we should have been biking, we went canoeing to give my knee more time to heal.  This is the cool think about Sun Peaks - there's so much to do there!

On our last day in Sun Peaks, I really wanted to bike, pain or no.  We purchased lift tickets and rode to the top.

Not being experienced DH riders, we took the greenest route to the bottom.  It was a good thing we did!  It was a fun trail to ride, but there were a lot of switchbacks (which, as has already been discussed, I am no good at).  I wiped out on a little bridge and I still have a very nasty bruise on my right butt cheek a week-and-a-half later.

We gave the bikes a once-over at the bottom and rode back up.  Our purpose had been to try out the Big Rock Ride, which is an XC trail from the top of the mountain that had just opened up this year.  Here is my GPS data from the ride.

BRR was really fun!  I just wish it had been longer.  The top section was pretty technical.  Lots of rocks and roots and logs and bridges and whatnot.  The trail is really well-signed.  Oh, and there are cows up there.

They seem like pretty friendly cows, but then I was raised on a cattle ranch.  If you're uncomfortable around large animals, watch out for them.  Also, don't feed them.  And steer around their poop if you can.

It's all downhill, which is great.  At some point the technical bit ends and you just ride a doubletrack road the rest of the way down (the signs go from blue to green).  We got going pretty fast there.  The bike shop guys had advised us to duck into the nordic trails for more riding, instead of following the road back to town.  This is where we encountered more cow poop and I flatted very undramatically.

Luckily, the hotel we had been staying at had a bike-washing station, so we were able to clean up our bikes before loading them up and heading for Vancouver!

Our time on the Sunshine Coast was brief but nice.  It's always good to see my paternal grandparents and my aunt and cousins.  We didn't do any biking here this year, due to my injury and the DH nature of most of the riding, but we did try stand-up paddleboarding in the Sechelt Inlet and it was pretty sweet too.

And now we're home.  Back in Alberta and back to work!

Dirt Series

My name is Sue and I'm a mountainbikeaholic.

So I went to Trek Dirt Series last weekend in Canmore.  I found out about Dirt Series by googling around for skills camps and I signed up as soon as registration opened in February.  Because I am addicted to mountain biking, I wanted to do everything in my power to become a better mountain biker.  I'd read all the books and watched all the videos.  I was riding all the trail I could.  But Dirt Series provided the opportunity to learn from some real pros and get actual feedback about whether I was doing it right.

It was fun too.  I had some friends who were interested in tagging along, so we made it a girls weekend, rented a sweet condo in Canmore, and loaded up our bikes (without the help of our husbands).

Lisa with our Trek Lush's loaded up

We were so nervous the morning of the camp!  I was a bit sad to be split up from my buddies on the first day, but in retrospect I think it was for the best.  I got the instruction I needed and they felt comfortable in their respective skill-groups.

We did skills in the morning and went for trail rides in the afternoon.  I did well with straight-line riding, but struggled with cornering.  Although I couldn't seem to get the cornering down during the camp, I've worked on it since and it has come a long way!  Roll-downs were easy for me (I had a chance to perfect this in Moab last year).

The trail ride wasn't quite what I expected.  First of all, it was really hot.  I mean REALLY hot.  And we were climbing a lot, being in the mountains and all.  I guess I expected to just go out and ride, but the reality was that we were stopping every few minutes to discuss skills and strategies for tackling some of the more technical terrain we encountered.  This instruction was really useful, but there were a few points when I wanted to just ride for a while, you know?

A Dirt Series coach demonstrating a tricky feature

We met back at the bike shop for pizza and beer, provided by the camp.  It was delicious!  All four of us were enjoying meeting the other camp participants and taking advantage of the 10% off deal the bike shop offered.

I think everyone was pretty tired going into day 2, but there was also an enthusiasm for mountain biking that had replaced the nerves of the previous morning.  We were all having a great time.

From left: Serena, Tara, Lana, Lisa

We got to choose which skills sessions we would take on the second morning.  I should have chosen switchbacks or high-speed cornering, but the immature part of my brain won out and I choose jumps.  Jumps was waaaaay too much fun.  I'd practiced wheel lifts at home so it came pretty naturally.

Then another trail ride!  We did the G8 trail out of Canmore.  Again, there were lots of stops for instruction.  The ride was just getting fun when we came to a steep, rocky, switchback section.  I went down last and promptly crashed massively.  I was all mental going into the loose corner and I just lost it.  I crushed my right knee between the handle-bars and frame and went down and did a few somersaults.  I bet it looked cool, but it hurt.  Biking back out of the bush was pretty painful and I had a baseball sized swelling above my knee by the time I got picked up.  If only I had chosen switchbacks!

Anyway, all in all it was a fantastic weekend.  I had a great time hanging out with my girlfriends, met some new people, and I think I'm a better mountain biker overall.  I can't wait to get out and put these skills to the test!

Lana, Lisa, and Tara enjoying a few post-Dirt Series beers

Review: The Enlightened Cyclist

 As an atheist, there are few things that I do religiously, but reading BikeSnobNYC is definitely one of them.  Bike Snob is hilarious.  Sometimes I read his blog at work and I literally laugh out loud while surrounded by customers (I also scroll very quickly past the pictures of naked ladies on recumbents).

Bike Snob's first book was super funny too.  I think my favourite bit was when he call triathletes "the turduckens of the cycling world."  Again, I frequently laughed out loud while reading it, but it was also educational.  I now know about the dynamics between different kinds of cyclists and the history of the bicycle.  All around, I enjoyed this book immensely and heartily recommend it to anyone who enjoys cycling.

So that's why I'm very sorry to say that I obtained less enjoyment from Bike Snob's new book, The Enlightened Cyclist. 

Generally, it's about commuting by bike, and the attaining of transcendence through this activity.  I agree with the premise.  Bike commuting makes sense for individuals and society, plus it just makes a person feel really good (because of the green thing, but also because of all the endorphins and the fresh air).  Personally, I love riding my bike to work, or to the grocery store, or to a friends house for beer, or whatever.  It's awesome!  I hope to do it for the rest of my life.

But The Enlightened Cyclist is all about bike commuting in New York, and the problems in getting around (whether by bike or car) that they have in New York just don't exist in other places.  For example, "Shoaling".  I had never heard of this phenomenon before, where cyclists actually butt in line at stop lights.  That's crazy!  I'm generally the only cyclist on the road on my way to work, so this would never happen to me.  My commuting problems include drivers waving me through stop signs because they think that I'm a pedestrian and they don't know that I'm supposed to obey traffic rules.  I live in a town with one bike lane that doesn't lead anywhere.  I have to commute on a mountain bike because my route requires me to jump over numerous curbs and navigate a rutted gravel parking lot.

Needless to say, I found it hard to relate to the commuter problems encountered by Bike Snob.

I also found the book to be less funny that the blog.  Bike Snob is trying to get a serious point across here, and he layers in philosophy and psychology to explain the nature of people commuting.

However, the idea behind it all is really good.  Cars do have a role.  They are perfect for hauling large things and going long distances.  But a bike is better for getting around in small areas.  It's quick and easy and it's good for people.  I fully support the notion of getting more people to use bikes for day-to-day travel and cars when they are needed.  I hope Bike Snob can convince at least a few people to try it out.

Review: Road to Valor

It's hard to say to what extent my enjoyment of Road to Valor was influenced by my love of cycling.

The book is essentially a biography of World War II era cyclist, Gino Bartali. Bartali was a two-time winner of the Tour de France, but he was also a war hero who helped to save many Italian Jews from the Nazis. His story is an interesting and complex one, but for all that, he isn't a very likeable character.

Gino Bartali won the Tour de France in 1938 and 1948.

For me, the most fascinating parts of the book were those that described the early days of the Tour de France. The final chapters were particularly gripping, and the reader will really feel the tension as Gino struggles through the mountain passes of the Tour and Italy struggles to recover from the war.

I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who is interested in World War II Italy or the history of bicycle racing.

The Ride to Conquer Cancer 2012

Part of me still can't believe that I am sitting here on my couch, warm and dry and protected from the elements.

Last Saturday, Bruce and I (and a few friends) embarked on an epic journey.  After raising over $18,000 for the Alberta Cancer Foundation, we were tasked with riding over 200 kilometres of Alberta foothills.

In the rain.

One might ask why a reasonably sane person would take part in such a ride.  After all, the money has already been raised.  It's not like the physical act of riding is going to save any lives, right?  If we had stayed home and eaten chips all weekend, would anyone have even noticed?

All of these questions ran through my brain as I sat in our vehicle on Saturday morning, contemplating the wet conditions outside and the waiting bicycle leaning against the hood.  Nonetheless, I wiggled into my chamois shorts, donned my "waterproof" gloves and "waterproof" jacket, and prepared to ride.

We were underway by 8:30 am and the rain was light.  Unfortunately, the road was rough and muddy in places (I felt like an old-timey Tour de France racer, circa 1948) and I was shortly quite wet and splattered with muck.  No matter, I was at least managing to keep up with Bruce as he wove amongst the throng of riders.  The rain eventually let up and we rode in cool, overcast conditions between ~km 10 and 80.

My legs felt good.  I was keeping my cadence high, as Selene Yaeger taught me, and I didn't start to feel uncomfortable in my shoulders and wrists until about 50 km in.  This was also roughly the time when the team started to feel warm enough to remove our rain coats and show off our jerseys.

#fuckyoucancer

This only lasted for 30 km, but it felt good!

We rode back into rain shortly after lunch and it persisted, in various intensities, for the remainder of the ride.  The last 20 km were the wettest of the day, soaking my feet right through and obscuring my vision.

We had been told in the morning that the route on day one was 115 km, but this was a lie.  I don't remember who told it, but the actual distance was 120 km, and let me tell you, those were the hardest 5 km of my life up to that point.  We were riding through gentle rolling hills, and every time I crested a hill, I expected to see the camp laid out before me.  This happened over and over and over, until I finally cruised down the big hill to Chain Lakes Provincial Park.

When you bike all day in the rain, you start to really look forward to getting to camp.  You keep thinking about being warm and dry and getting the pressure off your crotch and how relaxed you'll finally feel.  Imagine your disappointment to arrive to pouring rain, leaky tents, wet luggage, and more mud than should reasonably exist in the world.

I don't mean to be critical of the organizers of this charity event, but as a lifelong camper, I suspect that the planners had not done much camping.  Even something as simple as laying down planks in the high-traffic areas (so that people didn't have to walk in the mud and wet) would have done a lot for rider morale.  Rant done.

In terms of sleeping conditions, we were lucky to have not unrolled our bed before noticing the leak.  We mopped up the water and Bruce (my hero) swiped an extra tarp to throw over the top.  It poured rain until 1:30 in the morning, but we were probably some of the driest people in the place.

But morning did arrive, and it was time to leave the dry security of our tent and re-enter the mud pit.  It was no longer raining, but none of our gear was even remotely dry.  I think putting my relatively dry feet back into those wet, muddy bike shoes was one of the hardest parts of the entire weekend.  We dropped off our bags, retrieved our bikes, scarfed down a waffle and a banana, and hit the road once again.

Day two was much more difficult.  My legs were no longer fresh and the mud and wet had taken a psychological toll on me.  Luckily, Bruce remained close by as we rode and I took advantage of the frequent snack stops to keep my motor running.  We did eventually ride out of the rain, but it continued to threaten us all day long.

I knew I was going to make it when we hit the half-way mark.  By this time, I was riding much slower than on day one, but Bruce was with me and I knew my heated seat was waiting at the finish line.  Bruce literally pushed me up some of the longer hills, placing his hand on my back and pedaling for both of us so that I could have a break.

The sky really opened up during the last 20 km or so.  Water was pelting out of the sky, stinging my back and arms through my soaked jacket.  We knew we were close, though, and we really started to hammer on it.  I switched into my big ring and we were passing people like crazy, whipping down the hills at 56 kph in the downpour.  There were only 3 km left to go!

Then Bruce flatted.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  He fixed it up quick and we were back on the road.

We crossed the finish line at 12:05 pm, after 223 km of riding.

223 km on a bike gives one a lot of time to think.  I thought a lot about the similarities between this cycling journey and fighting cancer.  You know when you start out that it's going to be a long haul.  You have to conserve your energy when you can and go balls out when you have to.  Sometimes you climb a huge hill only to find and even bigger one on the other side.  You can feel demoralized at times by the monumental distance, but also encouraged by the strangers at the side of the road in the rain, shouting "YOU CAN DO THIS!"  The support of friends and family can mean everything.  And through it all, you only have two choices: keep fighting or stop.

And that's the worst part; no matter what, some people won't make it to the finish line.  It's heartbreaking. 

So, I'm glad I got out of the car, because maybe now I understand a little better.

Thank you for supporting me.  I would never have made it without you.

www.conquercancer.ca

A Cleatastropic Start to the Cycling Season

Since Christmas, there have been two shiny sets of Crank Brothers pedals sitting in my office.  Santa was kind enough to bring me a set of egg-beaters for my Madone and a set of Mallets for my Lush.  On Boxing Day, I went to Ernie’s and purchased a set of pink and black Specialized cycling shoes that would work with either pedal (I can’t ride two bikes at once, right?  So why have two sets of shoes?).

Although I biked around a bit in the winter, I wasn’t quite brave enough to try out my clipless pedals until conditions were less slippery.  On the Madone, I managed to give the egg-beaters a try back in February, when a warm spell dried out the road for a few days.  This went well.  I was obsessive about remembering to unclip and I didn’t have any of the ridiculous accidents I’ve heard about where riders stop and then tip over in slow motion.  I was pleased.

Mountain biking with clipless pedals has been a different story.  I think maybe the Mallets are harder to clip into than the egg-beaters, but that’s not the only problem.  I know this may be hard to believe, but I am actually quite accident-prone.  And now, I have this terrible fear of having a major mountain biking catastrophe with my feet still attached to my bike.  Bruce, of course, assures me that my feet will unclip themselves in an accident, as if by magic.  I don’t believe it for a second.  I’m probably going to end up with bones poking through my skin and no front teeth.

There’s also this weird scenario where I remember to unclip one foot, then in attempting to unclip the other foot I manage to shift my weight and fall over.  So now I always unclip both feet simultaneously and cruise to a stop with my feet in the air and the pedals spinning freely.  It looks really cool.

Reaction times are also slower.  Last week, I slammed on my brakes when I came around a corner to find a tree in my path.  I skidded to a quick stop (gawd, the Lush has amazing brakes), heart pounding, and then promptly crashed sideways into the dirt.  In retrospect, maneuvering around the tree might have been a good idea.

So, to clip-in or not to clip-in?  The jury is still out.  I’m going to keep using them for the time being, and maybe my issues will resolve with practice.  Certainly, on familiar, relatively open trails, I am comfortable using the Mallets.  In a racing situation with a lot of climbing (like Leadville) they are infinitely superior to flat pedals.  On technical singletrack?  Not a chance.