Chris Peariso got the hole shot and led us into the initial singletrack with me right on his wheel and Christian Tanguy just behind me. Happy to be rolling the slippery conditions ahead of the masses, I encouraged him to keep the pace up.

All went well until one of those camouflage trail marker signs jumped out of Chris’ blindspot and hit him square in the shoulder and chest. It looked like a 150 lb. receiver getting broadsided by a linebacker—body twirling away from the sign, arms and legs fully extended and flailing. I was in awe of the moment, but my attention was yanked back to the present as I dove to the right to avoid running over Chris’ head. We backed off and luckily Chris was fine and jumped back into the train inside Top 10.

I was very focused on my line through the stream crossing where I dinged my rim and flatted last year—so focused that I picked the wrong half of the fork in the trail. Sam hot on my heels went with me. Christian however chose the correct direction, in silence. I know my comprehension of his native French is horrible, so I will give him the benefit of the doubt, because I’m sure I didn’t hear a sportsmanlike, “WRONG TURN!!” in English Lucky for Sam and me, you couldn’t go very far before dead-ending into a staircase. We looped around and chased back to the leaders.

A little too fast for the camera

Out of the singletrack and onto the first fire road, it was Christian, Sam, and me later joined by Wes and Chris who pushed hard to bridge up. The pace was urgent, not unruly for the next hour with everyone taking some turns at the front.

About 3 hours in, the pace got decidedly more heated, and Christian and I slowly opened up time on Sam and Wes with Chris falling further back. I eventually got away from Christian climbing and descending on the rollers, but my time alone was fleeting. Miscalculated nutrition equals leg cramps, lost power, and relegation to the pain cave.

Going into the lower Pinotti trail network, Christian caught me and then quietly rolled away. At that point, Sam and I were both in a not-so-happy place and slugged up the climb to Aid 5. Sam stopped longer there, and I never saw him again.

Time checks showed Christian’s lead climbing steadily over the next couple hours. The intermittent rain was taking its toll with some sections saturated, muddy, and always cold. Returning from my unwanted low calorie diet brought back some of the fun in the punishment for me. I was chipping into Christian’s lead, the rain had let up for awhile, and I knew the suffering would not last much longer.

The final singletrack section over Thunder Mountain reminded me of the old days back in rural Florida with my wife. I’ve seen monster trucks get stuck in mud bogs that weren’t as deep or greasy as some of the stuff that stood between us and home.

Just 50 yards to go

At that point, I didn’t care much since the conditions were surely the same for everyone, but about 30 miles out my rear brake with resin pads had gone belly up. Descending 25-degree pitches covered in deep slimy mud with just one brake takes some of the fun out of a man’s “Get Dirty Time.” I was running scared, afraid that slow-poking through all the turns and down all the hills meant getting caught from behind. Two years in a row running scared down Thunder Mountain. I guess that’s my thing.

Cohutta 100 Podium

Results

Kev

After racing all day I was as hungry as this King Kong outside the Pink Cadillac Diner

Thanks to Sarakristen Photography for the images.

As amateur bike racers, we can emulate a remarkable number of things that the actual Pros do. We can ride the same bikes, use the same kinds of clothes, etc. In this day of tweeting and blogging, there is unprecedented access to intimate detail. Which of Allen Lim’s recipes is Jens Voigt’s favorite? Where can I get a headset dustcap to get my stem as slammed down as Fabian Cancellara’s?

But there’s one fact that is unavoidable for most of us:  we can’t ride like the Pros. Sure, there’s that guy who one time gave so-and-so a run for his money at the local crit. But when you get right down to it, F. Scott Fitzgerald has it right. The Pros: They are different from you and me. Power meters let us understand this in stark detail. You don’t have to look very hard on the internet to find power files of Pro riders describing their race activities. If you have the opportunity to train or race with a power meter, then you too can understand the extent to which a Pro could stomp you in a race without having to experience it firsthand.

Something many racers in the Washington, DC metro area have experienced is seeing the talented Joe Dombrowski rise from the ranks of punisher of local amateurs to an international development team, and finally the ProTour level with Team Sky for 2013. The first time I saw Joe was on a local group ride in early 2011. Not then aware of who he was or that he had recently been recruited to the Trek Livestrong development team, I thought to myself “someone needs to share the unwritten, complex, and rarely spoken rules of road racing aesthetics with this kid —he’s got a matching kit and bike for Trek, so not Pro!” Half an hour later, he was shredding the group at the front. Only then did I ask around, learning he was the local wunderkind. I heard many a tale of woe from unfortunate souls he had stomped coming up through the amateur ranks.

This year, Joe was kind enough to share with us one of his favorite workouts to prepare for the arduous and lengthy races he’ll encounter at the highest level in Europe. He calls it “Wattage Pro” (this is your cue to be frightened, as he is literally a Pro using the term pro to refer to something as being hard).

The workout should take about 5 hours. For the power geeks out there, you’re fishing for about 300 TSS points. In layperson’s terms, afterward you should need to plow a large burrito and feel too stupid to do anything more than simple addition. The idea of this ride is to simulate what it would be like to race a long, flat Tour stage. It’s tough enough that Joe recommends not doing it too often and treating it as a “breakthrough” ride. My personal suggestion would be to put it at the end of a hard block of training where you’ll have a rest week coming up.

The Workout: Wattage Pro

Here’s the workout in simple terms.

1. 4 hours, endurance pace
2. 15 minutes: FTP/theshold/40K time trial pace, recover
3. 5 minutes: VO2 max, recover
4. 3-5 short efforts
5. 3 minutes: all out
6. collapse

Allow me to explain…

1. Ride steady endurance pace for about 4 hours
Nothing fancy. This approximates sitting in the draft of the peloton. Joe recommends shortening this duration to make the workout sensible for the type of racing you are likely to encounter —maybe 2.5 or 3 hours. The point is to soften your legs up. For many of us, this would be a solid workout itself.

2. 15 minutes at FTP/threshold/40K TT pace
For a pro, the real workout now begins. This is after 4 hours of steady riding.

5-10 minutes recovery

Totally exhausted? Good. Because now the real fun starts.

3. 5 minutes just below “all-out pace”
Some call this VO2 pace; I prefer the technical term “bleeding from your eyes” pace.

Now that you’re feeling nauseated, give yourself another 10 minutes of recovery

The good news now is that the workout is almost over, and no more of those excruciatingly long steady efforts. The bad news? Excruciating short efforts.

4.  Several short efforts (30 to 45 seconds each) at nearly full gas, ideally on rolling hills
Joe says he does these at about 500 to 600 watts. But bear in mind homey is nearly 6’1″ and weighs about 145 lbs. sopping wet. To get the true pro experience, the average MABRA weekend warrior would have to scale these up by around 10-15% to account for being a big fatty-pants. How many of these efforts? He says as many as he can do until his average power for the efforts drops by 10% relative to the first one. For most of us, that’d probably be three to five.

Now that you’re begging for mercy and looking behind you for that imaginary grupetto to cruise home with, fret not—there’s only one final effort left.

5.  3 minutes. All out.
In Joe’s words, “leave everything on the road.” Imagine attacking with 2-3 kilometers to go. If necessary, I suggest imagining Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin narrating your attack, describing how you are reaching into your “suitcase of courage”.

6. Collapse

You are now free to limp home. Joe gets to return to an apartment in Nice, practice his French on the locals, and enjoy a croque monsieur or pan chocolat from the local patisserie. We get to check our work Blackberrys, because it’s Sunday and we’re part of the DC rat race. But if you do a workout like this, you should go home feeling pro, which is a great reward in itself.

We’d like to thank Joe for taking the time to share this workout detail with us, and wish him the best competing at the highest level of pro bike racing this year.

All photos courtesy of Team Sky. Our heartfelt thanks to Nick H. of Team Sky for giving us access to such Pro images.

This is the best time of year for racing. Everyone is enthusiastic and the season is full of potential. There’s no need to obsess over points yet.  And the weather is phenomenal.

This is the worst time of year for not racing. While my teammates are in the saddle, I’m stuck on the couch recovering from hip surgery. By the way, if your non-racing significant other thinks dealing with your training and bike banter is bad, have him or her talk to my wife about living with a cyclist who can’t ride. Things are getting a little Overlook Hotel-ish around my house, despite the pleasant weather.

But things aren’t all bad. In fact, while sitting at the bar at our local Dogfish Head Alehouse, things were pretty good. I may be in no shape to write race reports or review new gear, but I’m fully conditioned for sitting on a barstool and downing a few pints. So I went to sample a few new and seasonal offerings from Dogfish Head that are perfect for outdoor imbibition this spring.

** Sixty-One **

Sixty-One—Apparently Sam is exempt from the never-touch-another-man’s-beer rule.

Dogfish Head is well known for having interesting stories behind their beers. Chateau Jiahu, for example, was crafted following molecular analysis of 9,000-year-old pottery found in northern China. Whoa. Sixty-One (6.5% ABV), on the other hand, was created after what sounds like a prank. Sam Calagione, founder and president of the brewery, poured a bit of Syrah (a spicy red wine, for all you philistines) into his friend’s 60 Minute IPA. Messing with a 60 is a punishable offense if you’re anyone but Sam, but after some experimentation, including subbing the wine with Syrah grape must (the pre-fermented juice), he may be onto something.

I stress may in this case, as Sixty-One won’t be for everyone. The first sip of this ruby-colored ale was a bit disconcerting. I think a big reason for this was that I got the story first, and know and love the 60 Minute IPA that Sixty-One is derived from. (Going back, I’d drink first and learn later.) The initial taste was quite fruity, as if the beer cancelled out the spicy robustness of the Syrah grapes (or maybe it’s lost by using must rather than wine) and the must cancelled out the bitter citrus of the Northwest hops. It tasted like a fizzy version of a Beaujolais wine, which can be light, slightly sweet, and fruit-laden. As I continued drinking, it became more beer-like as the fruitiness took a back seat to the hops.Conclusion: This brew isn’t for me, but I wouldn’t hesitate to serve it up at a barbeque, where I think it would get a lot of positive attention. In my mind, it’s more of a gateway beer for non-beer-drinkers, but it’s also an interesting addition to the brewery’s beer-wine experiments, which include the very good Red & White.

** Firefly **

Brewed for Delaware’s Firefly Music Festival—which has a respectable lineup for a festival in, well, Delaware—the eponymous Firefly (5% ABV, 25 IBUs) English-style pale ale is made with Marris Otter barley and English heritage hops before being dry-hopped with Calypso. According to the Alehouse’s erudite bartender, Firefly was brewed to keep drinkers alive in the midsummer heat of the festival, which had previously—and I’m sure disastrously for some people—served mostly high-alcohol beers.

Firefly, pictured middle, is a warm weather session beer.

Firefly pours a pleasant golden color. It is restrained on the palette, advancing a slightly floral aroma followed by mild malt taste. The light body and low ABV keep it refreshing, as does the subtly bitter finish provided by the Calypso dry-hopping. Equally important, though, is what this beer is missing: rice. Rice is the ingredient that gives mass-produced “light” beers their funk (I won’t even try to be diplomatic). Some will argue otherwise, as the linked article goes into, but rice ruins beers like clip-on aero bars ruin a Cannondale SuperSix. With Firefly, Dogfish Head has made a light ale that is thoroughly pleasing from start to finish.

Conclusion: Unlike Sixty-One, Firefly may very well be a beer for everyone. I’m a recovering hophead, having restored balance to my palate after venturing down the Green Flash rabbit hole, and I would drink Firefly all day. It could be the biggest seller at Nationals Park as well as a recurring presence on my pre-cookout shopping list. This is firmly a warm weather session beer.

**Aprihop**

Aprihop—made with fruit but not a fruit beer.

In a video introducing Aprihop, Sam says, “We wanted to make a fruit beer for people who hate fruit beers.” And that’s pretty much the simple story behind this not-so-simple beer. Aprihop is at first glance a traditional American IPA with a high (7%) ABV and aggressive (50 IBU) bitterness imparted from Amarillo dry-hopping. But, as the label states, it’s also brewed with real apricots. And that’s what makes it so interesting.

Aprihop has an inviting, dark amber color topped with a healthy white head. The first sip is predictably hoppy, with the boldly bitter, grapefruit-like flavor typical of Amarillo hops. But there’s also a velvety texture not typical of IPAs. Very quickly that texture gives way to the apricot undertones, which are suitably subtle and do not suffer from the sweetness found in other fruit beers. By adding apricot, Dogfish Head makes what would be a great IPA even better—the fruit complements the beer’s initial flavor rather than competing with it. Finally, despite its hoppiness and comparatively elevated ABV, this beer is highly drinkable; I don’t think I’ve ever had just one in a sitting. This beer is meant to be gulped.

Conclusion: Aprihop is a unique and exceptional ale that I look forward to every spring and buy enough of to last into summer after it’s gone from stores. The name describes the brewing method more than the taste—it is a beer made with fruit rather than a fruity beer. If you’ve been avoiding this because you don’t like fruity beers, go get some right now. In fact, if you haven’t had it for any reason, go get some right now.

* * *

So, while everyone else is racing and training, I’m doing glute squeezes (my own glutes, not some podium girl’s) and drinking beer. If you want to take a break from all your training or follow up a hard ride with a well-deserved ale, get your saddle-sore butt to Dogfish Head Alehouse and explore their offerings. Also, mark your calendars for their bacon dinner on April 29 and 30. Because bacon.

The smart way to start road racing—after 20 years of riding and racing mountain bikes—would have been with a small local race, but the opportunity to do Battenkill—considered by many as the hardest one-day race in the US—was too appealing.

Leading up to the race, I didn’t know what to expect. I have learned plenty of race strategy and tactics from years of watching races on TV and hearing stories from teammates, but I knew it would be totally different once actually on the road.

My strategy was simple: sit-in mid to front of the pack on the open flats and rollers, stay up front on the climbs, and go with a break of 2 or more, especially the second half of the race. I hoped that I could climb as well as anyone in the group, and we’d slowly lose guys off the back.

As we set off at 12:20pm, the group rolled out at a conversational pace for the first 5 miles before making the first turn. It was painfully slow but a good warm-up pace. At the turn, guys raced for the covered bridge to avoid any crashes, then the pace settled back down. The first dirt section elevated the pace again as guys raced to the front to avoid crashes. The pack spread out as we pedaled up the first climb but came together over the top then slowed again as guys recovered and no one wanted to take hard pulls at the front.

The attrition started on the second climb when one guy broke away at the crest, and the pace stayed high to keep him in sight. By that time, it was pretty clear who the strong climbers were and who relied on their descending and time-trial skills to stay with the pack.

The lone breakaway rider managed to stay away until the base of the fourth climb when he bounced his chain. We pushed hard up the next couple climbs, losing more guys off the back, but the pace was moderate between climbs. I took some short pulls, but only a few guys really drove the pace.

As we approached the last climb, we probably had half of the 50 guys left in the pack. I felt strong and confident that I could get to the top with the front group, knowing that we only had about 5k left after the climb.

The pace quickened immediately and riders started dropping like flies. I stayed in contact with the leaders until about halfway up when a group of five put a gap on me and two others. Everyone was completely redlined at that point, so the gap stayed at a steady 100m as we approached the top.

At that point, the lead group put in a huge effort to drop us for good, opening a gap of 200m or more. I was confident that the threee of us could bridge the gap, because the one dude was about 200 lbs. and very strong on the descents, which he had showed it earlier in the race.

As I led our small group over the crest, I kept on the gas at the start of the descent knowing that the big guy would take the lead as soon as he recovered, then I’d grab his wheel. That’s exactly what happened.

He flew down the mountain, chest to the bars in an aero position, and we slowly gained on the break. The dude then pulled hard as the road flattened out, to the point where I couldn’t get around to help until the road pitched up. I went around as he slowed, and I urged him to grab my wheel. We then reached the break with about 3k to go and took the opportunity to rest and prepare for what was likely to be an eight-man sprint.

To be sure no one else would catch on, we all pulled through for a couple rotations until we were safely ahead. Then the jockeying began.

There were a couple moves inside 2k, but we quickly ate them up. We approached the final right turn at 300m with five guys wide in front and three behind. I knew from the previous day’s scouting that I could take the turn very fast and wide left, so I jumped just before the turn and didn’t look back.

My legs were burning so bad that I had to rock the bike furiously to stay on top of the big gear. With my mouth wide open, lungs screaming, and heart rate approaching 95%, I managed to open a lead on all seven riders but couldn’t hold off #102. He’d been the strongest all day, doing some big pulls when no one else would, so he deserved the win. So close, but I was happy to take 2nd.

All in all, it was a fun course and great race. I was amazed at how well my strategy played out but certainly didn’t expect to do well in a group sprint. Beginners luck? I’ll have to wait until the next race to find out.

Thanks to my Gripped teammates for the great support and encouragement and to Chris Eatough (www.chriseatough.com) for the amazing coaching. Special thanks to my wife Laura and my girls for supporting me through the long hours of training and time away from home.

Rob Russell: 2nd in his first ever road race
Ryan Bannon: 7th after a last minute breakaway
Stephanie Wolf: 8th in her 3rd bike race ever
Jason Harris: 20th in his first road race
Aron Kansal: 22nd proving Argentina training was legit
JB: finished just over a minute behind the Cat 3 winner
Rapavi: just behind JB in style

This same weekend at Bakers Dozen, Pam defended her 2012 domination of the women’s solo field with another win and Kevin won men’s solo handily and beat nearly every team there – including the relays!

Jason’s Race Report: Cat 3 Grand Fiasco

I know better. But really –sometimes you just don’t want to ride slow. I spent a winter preparing for this year’s Battenkill only to have our race of 150 guys move at a pace I was not prepared for: dreadfully slow. There was even a Cat 5 (read: beginner) field that bested our average time. There I was ready for war, and instead I had a grand fondo. I made my way to the front early, got through the first bridge in front and then just stayed there. All day.

After winning last year in Cat 4, the pack was not about to let me go off the front. Each time I lurched ahead, I was promptly reeled in. I had no intention of a real attack, but looking back I “couldda, wouldda, shouldda.”  Instead I stayed at the front of the pack, out of trouble all day, and set the pace.

But even a slow ride of 60 miles is 60 miles. On the last climb, the pack suddenly awoke, yelling, barging and shoving their way up the series of gravel, step climbs. I was caught out. About 100 guys finished within 2 minutes of the winner, so to say it was messy is an understatement. But that’s racing. Lesson learned the hard way. 55th with an average of 19.4 mph. Ouch.

What turns a poor result into a great weekend of racing? Seeing people you’ve encouraged to race have an amazing result. Sharing that with them, knowing they worked hard through a cold winter, life hardships and self doubt to arrive on the finish line better than they expected. That’s gratifying. I’m super proud of the people I train and race with. Their Battenkill experience salvaged mine. And there’s always next year.

It’s the start of a new season, and nothing is more exciting than that.

Wake up! It’s time to race.

The klaxon sounded at precisely 4:30am signaling that the start of Gripped Racing West’s 2013 campaign had begun in earnest. Michael Grosso and I headed South for Round #1 of the Kenda Cup West mountain bike race series. Michael would tackle the 50-mile endurance race while I would take on the field in the XC contest.

The venue is one we’ve become quite accustomed to over the past few years. Vail Lake Resort in Temecula has become a bellwether for our seasons as it hosts a 3-race 12-hour series along with the opening round of the Kenda Cup. We can almost navigate its undulating ridgelines, switchback descents and steep fireroad grinds with our eyes closed. Mike’s 2nd place finish and my 3rd in the 12-hour last month can attest to this, and the course that was laid before us last weekend was almost identical.

Another rude awakening.

I toed the line amongst some familiar competitors under an atypically warm February sun and set off on the 18-mile course with high spirits. My bunch stayed tight throughout the first couple miles of rolling doubletrack. The ground was covered in a very fine baseball infield dirt over a rock hard deck that kept speeds high leading toward the first steep switchback climb. I was able to keep contact with the leaders as we begun our ascent, picking off lapped 50-mile riders as we climbed. Then came the hurt.

During what I had thought was a very satisfactory performance on this course last month, I was running a very endurance-friendly 32×22 gearing combo. I had thought that gearing up to a 32×20 just before this race would be a good call, but towards the end of this first climb, I realized I made a mistake. I was being steadily cycled back in the pack as we approached the crest, and by the time we reached the first ridgeline run, I was in full-on survival mode.

I came through the start line in 12th and rounded the corner for another lap of hurt. At this time, I realized that I needed to just survive that first climb, use my descending skills and higher gear to make contact, and try to reel in some spots on the back half of the circuit.

Chase ‘em down.

The rideglines on the second lap were full out —four-knuckle, brakeless death-grip runs on the rolling ridges punctuated by time trial efforts on the false flat transitions up the canyons. I heard the knobs on my tires sing as they floated over the terrain.

With about four miles left in the last lap, I was able to reel in two riders and put another lapped 50-miler in between us to block. Two miles left, and I afford myself an over-the-shoulder glance to see that I’ve got two singlespeeders breathing down my neck. One makes a move, and I cycle back one spot. I try to hang on to his wheel and realize that he’s been saving an extra couple matches for this moment, and I’m turning myself inside out to keep the wheel. I crack and give up the one last spot that I was able to gain earlier. I decide to hang in and try to take that second rider at the line.

The run in to the finish is set up with a loose and flat series of three turns that descend toward the pit area, and I start taking chances. Two turns in, and I’m right on this guy. On the last turn, I slip my rear wheel on the apex that’s been chewed up to a single loose slot car groove on the outside, give up a gap and finish two seconds behind 11th.

12th is absolutely not where I wanted to be starting the XC season, but that’s the reality now. Last year, I had a similarly disappointing first round performance and was able to bounce back, so that’s what I’m planning to do again. There’s really no choice, and the next round at Bonelli Park in San Dimas, CA has been a favorite of mine for clawing back. One thing is for certain though, I’m wide awake now and making the necessary steps to compete more effectively in Round 2.

Team Gripped loaded up a few carloads full of eager pedalers and headed down to Richmond to test our fitness and see if we can actually ride bikes for more then a few hours. The Monster Cross race director Mark Junkerman is really putting effort into growing the event, and in this, my second year, the effort is already paying off. Turnout was even larger this year, and the pro/elite field several notches more competitive.

The Gripped Crew pre-race

The days leading up to the race had some precipitation that worried more then a few competitors. Lucky for me, my local contact David Reid kept us apprised of the situation. Most of the course is on trails built by the Civilian Corp of Engineers so long ago that drainage is great and mud would not be nearly the factor it could be with rainfall like that. Spring is finally gracing the Mid-Atlantic, and temps race morning were crisp, but quickly climbed into the tolerable range. But the real heat didn’t hit until the gun went off….

Most of us were expecting a “Neutral Start,” but that memo didn’t make it to all the competitors. The pace out of the parking lot was blistering, and I personally found myself playing catch up trying to struggle through the groups that were quickly getting slung off the leaders like mud from a tire.

Just when I thought I was settled, a big gap opened, and that meant a day of chasing for me and a few companions. Luckily I avoided the deer that took down Jeff Plassman.

The next couple of hours could be described with just one word: threshold. Granted, we also hung out in that place called high Tempo or as some say, SST. But for the most part it was one steady threshold-fest.

Kevin at the feedzone halfway

My group had some familiar faces with other NoVa riders Dylan Johnson and Jeff Dickey, but bike problems split Dylan from us more then once. My band of three charged on, occasionally churning through the shell-shocked shrapnel flung from the lead group, but that great reunion with the leaders we hoped so much for never happened.

Kevin trading places with Jeff

“Kevinth Place” is known as any place short of expectation, but often second. A #2 race placard cast The Curse of Kevinth Place on me, so I barely made the Top 10 this year. At least on this day I was so far from the podium that it actually stung less.

The rest of the Gripped crew had solid efforts on the day—in Men MTB 40-49 JB took 3rd. In Men MTB 20-39 Harris took 23rd, Matt Lee 26th and Twingo kept it together to the end. In her first ever cycling race, Steph had a Top 10 in Open Women MTB even up against a few Cat 1 racers.

The biggest adventure of the day actually happened after the race. Steph was swapping out clothes from the back of Jason’s car, and the tailgate was inadvertently closed on the car keyfob. The tailgate engaged, and the pressure of the gate on the remote pressed the lock button. Now the whole car was locked, and the key was stuck inside. Thanks to some criminal ingenuity from me and some dexterous persistence from Harris, we actually managed to break in. Twingo had insulation anchors and tools, which we used to craft some crude implements of destruction. From the small gap between the tailgate and frame we were able to press the unlock button with just the end of what was essentially some bent up wire. Harris, you are Da Man!

Damn, it was great to get out and race again! I am coming off a huge life-induced break, and although I am very far behind, it is almost as if the fitness is coming back faster then ever to reward me for my suffering away from the bike. Here is to more great races ahead.

I’ve been vegetarian since I was 18, which means I’m coming to the point in my life where I’ve been vegetarian as long as I was a carnivore. For me, making a healthy transition to being vegetarian was not the easiest thing, in no small part because I am a picky eater. Example, I hate salad—H-A-T-E it. You see, man harnessed fire for a reason—that reason is so that I would not have to eat raw vegetables.

So, you’re probably wondering how I ended up as a vegetarian—like most of history’s great stories, there was a lady involved. But I digress…

When I was invincible in my 20′s and running hundred-mile weeks training for collegiate track and cross country, I fueled myself on cheap pizza, Doritos and Gatorade. I survived with decent results, but as I got older (arguably wiser, and inarguably softer and fatter) and switched to cycling, I began to look more deeply into how I could tweak and improve my diet to help improve my performance.

Many of the challenges presented by cycling were the same as running—(re)fueling before and after workouts, nutritional preparation heading into big races, etc. However, cycling was filled new challenges, like being on the move for 4 – 5 hours. I was now forced to deal with questions on how to refuel mid-workout, not to mention nutritionally mitigate the havoc that workouts of that length leave in their wake.

Here are some of the things that I’ve learned (often the hard way) during my transition to cycling while being a vegetarian. To make these points more exciting, I’ve adopted the Kanye West-like trait of the overuse of exclamation points.

1. Look at what the pros do! Professional cyclists? No, professional vegetarians. You can bounce around a wide variety of Asian countries (especially those with high numbers of Buddhists and Hindus) and find a lot of great tasting, healthy vegetarian food, because the diet is so deeply embedded in their lifestyle and culture. Who knows—along the way you might find out that tofu can, in fact, be delicious. Indian food is a go-to for me when it comes to pre-ride fueling. The options of lentils and carbohydrates are endless and delicious and are great ways to get complete proteins. Plus, samosas are BOMB.

Chana Masala—a chickpea dish popular in Pakistani and Indian cuisine—rice, and naan

2. Data snacks! For post-long ride, I’m a huge fan of the eggs and rice recipe from The Feed Zone Cookbook. I’ll quickly cook an egg, heat up some rice, and refuel while I upload my data and write in my ride log. For me, this ritual is a key in keeping my workouts at the appropriate level of effort across Saturday and Sunday.

3. Eat your vegetables! Like I said, I’m a pretty picky eater, and this was tough for me to embrace. But there are a number of vegetables that can provide a surprising amount of protein—cauliflower, broccoli, pumpkin and quinoa are all great examples. As added benefits, they’re low fat and high fiber to keep you at your race weight, and they have other fun properties and nutrients like Omega-3 fatty acids which can help reduce inflammation.

4. Eat more than gel! It’s tough to avoid grabbing a handful of gels, chomps or some other semi-solid, semi-nutritional colloid and shoving them into your jersey pocket as you head out for a ride. A little forethought and dash of Susie (or Stephen – who are we to judge?) Homemaker can not only spice up your mid-ride snacks, but also improve how you feel during that ride. A small bag of almonds for shorter rides is nice protein-packed punch, or a black bean and potato empanada to keep you moving on the days when things get a little more “epic.”

5. The incredible edible egg! Are they high in cholesterol? Yup. But as a vegetarian, eggs are one of my lone sources of cholesterol. Eggs are versatile, quick, and delicious—one of these bad boys has 70 calories, 6 grams of protein and 5 grams of fat, leaving you both refueled and full since they have a great protein to fat ratio. Pre-ride breakfast: oatmeal and an egg; lunch/snack: eggs and rice; dinner: frittata…

For those of you looking to try out some recipes, find some tasty treats and learn more about the purported benefits (like I said, I got into this for the ladies), I’d highly recommend the following reading:

• The Feed Zone Cookbook (Yes, there are meat recipes, but the empanada recipe is awesome.)
• The Market Vegetarian
• Madhur Jaffrey’s An Invitation to Indian Cooking
• The China Study Cookbook
• The Engine 2 Diet

Gripped Racing proudly supports Companions for Heroes (C4H), an organization that matches shelter and rescue animals with American veterans recovering from psychological challenges they suffered during service. Research continues to grow that shows how effective service animals have been in treating the symptoms for those suffering with PTSD. With the number of military suicides and cases of PTSD higher than ever and an estimated 60-70% of shelter animals euthanized every year, C4H fills a very important role in the lives of two groups that can mutually benefit from one another.

C4H matches veterans, first responders, and those on active duty, such as SPC Stasney, who suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI) while on duty in Afghanistan, with animals needing adoption. C4H matched him with Io, who came from from a shelter in Colorado. SPC Stasney says: “Io has impacted my life significantly in a way that is indescribable.”

Pets, as many of us know first hand, require great care and investment, and, with pet health insurance not often available, veterinary care can quickly become quite expensive. In the event of an accident or sickness, a pet owner may find himself with a sudden financial burden, which may mean extremely difficult choices to make.

For veterans with service animals, the loss can be particularly devastating.

So last September, Gripped Racing led a fundraising drive to collect donations for a new Companions for Heroes Emergency Fund to help those military personnel matched with pets to pay for veterinary care in the event of a medical emergency.

We collected over $2,000, and, at a special evening at the weekly Freshbikes Tuesday night shop ride, presented a check to C4H.

In January, C4H matched Cpl Matt Patterson and his wife Ali with Chloe.

However, the Pattersons recently found themselves with a very sick dog—Chloe had kennel cough, a urinary tract infection, and pneumonia—and facing over $500 in veterinary bills to treat her!

C4H, however, was able to activate the Emergency Fund to help the Pattersons cover those expenses, get Chloe treated, and keep their loved companion.

Gripped Racing is so pleased that the Emergency Fund was put to good use and a hero and companion were able to stay together—healthy and happy.

Click here to learn more about Companions for Here and donate.

Valuable floor space in my small apartment is now occupied by a workstand, trainer, and shelf for tools.

A couple of weeks into my training plan, I’m not in heavy-load mode quite yet. I thought that this weekend’s Vitamin G (G as in Gravel) team ride in Loudon Co.–a 50 miler with only moderate climbing but lots of dirt–would be an ideal introduction to gravel riding. I got my new SuperSix. New bomb-proof tires. Got my teammates. I was ready to kick it!

Here’s the thing: This was gonna be my first extended ride on gravel — ever. All I’ve ever done was a mile or two at a time. So while I got all the right gear to handle this, most likely this ride was still gonna suck for me. I drove to the ride start with JB who impressed upon me that the climbs weren’t easy, the descents were tricky and I should fully expect to freak out at some point on this ride. So just conserve as much energy as possible and try to keep up.

Here’s another thing: you know when you’re with someone who’s better than you–like way better—and their “zone 2” is your “zone 4?” Well, why not go on a ride with 5 someones better than you, all men, all Cat 3 or better, on gravel, when you’re not in any kind of shape yet and see if you can keep up AND conserve energy.

Less than 8 miles into the 40, and I’m riding along, at my already typical 50 feet back from the pack, thinking: I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Not just today in coming out for this ride, for which I’m painfully unfit. But also for signing up for this stupid race. For thinking that some superficial mountain biking skills would prepare me to ride 2-inch thick gravel on a 25mm tires. For thinking I could skate past dues-paying and get right to the rewards. I’m quitting. I’m quitting right now.

At about 15 miles into the 40, I realize I’m overdue to eat something, but I’m too sketchy on the gravel to take my hands off the handlebars. I’m going to bonk and then die.

At about 17 miles into the 40, JB drifts back to ask how I’m doing. I’m burning all my matches just trying to keep up. There’s no way I’m making it another 23 miles. My heart is going to explode, and I’m gonna die. What was I thinking coming out here!?

You know, you can do all the mantras and visualization you want, but you cannot entirely prepare yourself for meltdown. It’s like PMS (Men, just take my word for it). You know you’re having a “moment.” You know there’s no real reason you feel this way. And yet the intellectual awareness of it isn’t the magic pill to make it go away. You’re in the moment, totally aware of what’s happening, and yet still powerless to un-melt.

So what do you do? I don’t know really–I just kept pedaling and swearing. I wish I could say that I had a grand epiphany at that moment about how to forge through tough times, but the reality is that I frankly didn’t see a way out and didn’t want my teammates to slap me with a quitter stigma forever.

At about mile 32 of 40, Devon reminds us of the remaining 8 miles. Please, for the love, do not count the miles down.

At about mile 35 of 40, Jason tells me we’re approaching the last dirt climb. Jason asks if I want to do the climb or take a shortcut. Climb. I want to climb.

Why – you may ask – did I choose to do the harder option when I was already having, like, the worst day ever?

Because I went into that ride expecting to have to do it. Because I rode for 35.5 miles mentally preparing for that climb. Cut it out, and the ride is unfinished. Because I have rubber tiles and a bike stand where a dining table should be, and the largest investment of money since I bought my car rolling underneath me. I’ve committed and need to see this through, today and for the next 4 months.

B/w photos of the race and gravel roads posted all throughout my apartment let me never forget about the goal I’m working toward.

I won’t say it was easy. It was a climb on a crap road with a little bit of water to suction your tires. You don’t know at the beginning that there are three sections; after each you’re dying for a reprieve. Tap your shifter and realize you have no gears left. Swear b/c the gears are jumping on your brand new, piece of #$%, mother@#$#@ bike! But realize that the race is only gonna be harder than this, so getting through it takes you one step closer to being ready.

While it was neither my best riding nor mental performance ever, I will remember is that as whiny and apt to quit as I thought I was, it was all just mental noise. I was never really at risk of quitting. The big goal I’ve set for myself to do this race and the smaller goal I set to do that ride saw me through the difficult moments.

This winter/spring of training is going to be hard. The bad rides will outnumber the good. I will whine. I will feel shitty. But quit? Nah, I don’t think so.