tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75838928878720570962024-02-07T06:06:04.208-06:00Riders ReadyJamie Smith's blog devoted to roadies, road cycling, and other stuff like surfing, golf, life, and sometimes his books.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.comBlogger174125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-15136821506861180012013-07-30T08:17:00.001-05:002013-07-30T08:17:04.088-05:00Racing the Pro-1-2 event.<br />
Finally, we have the perfect video to show what it's like to race in the Pro-1-2 field.<br />
The video begins with the nervous wait on the starting line.<br />
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@:26 Riders ready? Go! The adventure begins. Hold on tight.<br />
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@1:57 The inevitable happens; the rider gets dropped in explosive fashion.<br />
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Oxygen is scarce as he rides around in circles for the next 5 minutes. He knows he'll never see the pack again.<br />
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@6:48 At this point, just over 6 minutes into the race, the officials pull him off the course.<br />
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@7:14 Here, you can see that the rider has thrown his helmet at his car as he approaches.<br />
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@7:21 The rider arrives at his car.<br />
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He then sits and stews in silence for a few minutes.<br />
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@7:50 He is not alone. Far off in the distance, you can see another rider returning to his car.<br />
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Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-31990532611306989842013-06-03T08:41:00.001-05:002013-06-03T08:41:34.989-05:00Vicious CycleWomen's cycling is stuck in a vicious cycle. And it's one that has been spinning at a high rate for as long as I can remember. (I date back to 1983.) I saw it when Twigg, Bliss, Yeaton, Golay, Reinhart, and Pic were racing. It's still going. Lately, the cycle has received a lot of attention after the Amgen Tour of California held a women's event during the San Jose time trial. A lot of the issues came rushing forward.<br />
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I touched on it briefly in Roadie (the greatest book ever written). The cycle: women's pro racing is less developed than men's pro racing in many areas: rider salaries, prize monies, and number/stature of events. This is due in large part to the relatively low number of female participants across the country. With fewer participants, fewer riders progress to the highest level. With fewer elite racers, there are fewer elite level events and usually lower prize lists at the ones that do exist. As such, it's not financially viable for a female athlete to become a full time bike racer.<br />
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So what's a promoter to do when only only a handful of elite-level women show up at a regional event? They'll be forced to lump them together with lower categories in order to create a field. If you're that elite racer, you'll simply ride away from everyone. What fun is that? As I said in Roadie, if you enter your first tennis tournament and face Maria Sharipova in the first round. If that's your bike race experience, how long would you stay in the sport? The answer is "Not very long." In fact, roughly 90% of the first-year licensees don't return for a second year.<br />
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Currently - in my region, anyway - a woman's only choice for a group training ride is a hammerfest involving 100 men. On Sunday, she will race against the other five women who didn't sell their bike after the first season, or they'll combine her field with another field (either the juniors or masters) which removes all semblance of a bike race. That's what women face upon entry into Roadie-world.<br />
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Women's racing is at its best when women race within their own category. It's real bike racing. Exciting. Competitive. Interesting. Compelling.</div>
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When women are forced to race all together as one big amalgam (which is 90% of the time), it is downright impossible to watch, and it's defeating to everyone involved. That - right there - is, to my trained eye, what kills it.</div>
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The answer is not simple. It is not enough to simply put on more high profile races. It is not enough to simply offer more prize money. Those are bandaids. Those have been tried with disappointing results.<br />
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Money doesn't solve it. Remember when USAC dumped a ton of money into the 1996 Olympic team thinking that medals would inspire growth in the sport. (For example, $25,000 for team pursuit "super bikes".) It doesn't work that way. It never does. It has to be organic.<br />
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The better answer is to grow more bike racers at the grass roots level. Teach, nurture, cultivate, train, and develop new riders. Put more people into the pipeline. With more people, you'll have better racing. Then, by offering women-only training sessions and skills courses, we can provide a better environment for developing the sport. And then, cream will rise to the top without washing away the rest of the crop.<br />
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It's a slow process that's already underway with several clubs and teams taking steps to recruit and train new women riders. When we get more numbers, we can stop forcing women to join a predominantly male group ride and stop lumping them in with the Masters or Juniors on Sunday.<br />
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If your region isn't doing anything in this direction, start now.<br />
<br />Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-78827295380813031382012-10-17T09:58:00.002-05:002012-10-18T09:06:25.011-05:00The Last Days Of Lance Armstrong He stood in the middle of Kansas with the entire country around him. But then ... oops, evidence surfaced....California slipped into the ocean. Followed by more evidence... Maine and New Hampshire dropped off the map. And then more evidence. There goes Oregon. Then Florida. As more and more facts surfaced, the country that elevated him fell away. Today, Lance is surrounded by only his posse. Or in this analogy, an acre of supporters. This week, almost all of his sponsors dropped away. Soon, the posse will collapse. And Lance will be standing on a rock where Kansas used to be.
Lance Armstrong has denied using performance enhancing drugs to win his seven Tours de France. Now we see the fabric unraveling. We see the mountain of evidence, and we now know that he was the kingpin of an extensive organized crime ring involving the governing body, sponsors, trainers, and a cast of thousands.<br />
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It could have been different.<br />
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Lance could have come clean right from the start when the first serious allegations came out. It would have saved all of this trouble from happening. America forgives and forgets very easily. He could have avoided all this. Instead, the Texan in him - the brashness that drew attention to him in the first place - dug in his heals and held his ground - fooled into believing that the people he bullied would remain silent, and that those who feared his powerful wrath would leave him alone. He was also fooled into believing that the fortress he had built around him would hold back the advancing mob.
Had he come clean immediately, his entire persona would have been elevated further. He would have been made the patron saint of forgiveness. And we would have moved on.<br />
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It could have been altogether different. <br />
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As outlined in David Walsh's book 'From Lance to Landis', Armstrong's ego couldn't take losing to European farm boys. He had dominated the American scene as a clean rider, but when he made the jump to European racing, he got has ass handed to him. That's when "the program" began in earnest.
Lance emerged as a Tour contender in 1999, one year after the Festina Affair, a drug scandal involving a French team at the TdF.
Lance came along as a cancer survivor with the personality and panache of a Bernard Hinault, and the UCI saw the opportunity to present a new and cleaner image to the world. 'Look what we have done. We have entered a new era in sport. We have a new hero.'
(Actually, I think the UCI was caught with their pants down when Lance won the '99 TdF. They didn't have the technology to catch him, and after the huge response by the cancer survivor community, they didn't dare try.) Now we're learning that the reality was completely foul. The drug problem was made worse than ever. Lance, quickly capitalizing financially on his 'success' and the popularity of his cause, suddenly had the means to become the mob boss of cycling.
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It should have been different.<br />
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Maybe I'm an idealistic fool who still believes in honesty, but it seems to me that if I had super powers (other than my sense of humor and my Tortilla Soup recipe), I would use them for good not evil. Lance's super powers are his intense personality, fearlessness, and his amazing athletic ability. He could have used them for good. Instead of going to the dark side and delving into the drug world, why didn't he use his brashness, fearlessness, cockiness, and powerful riding to destroy the Omerta from within? Demand that they race clean. Call them out. Challenge them. Change the world.<br />
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If anyone could have done it, it was the Lance freakin' Armstrong that I knew before the drugs. He was a superior athlete with an ass whoopin' personality. That's a Texan that we could all respect. I saw it with my own eyes almost every weekend as an announcer in 1991-92-93. He was a specimen of confidence and heart. He despised losing. He did amazing things on the bike to prevent it. He took no shit from anyone. He was awesome.<br />
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Instead, he took the lowest road possible and drove it to the end of the earth.<br />
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The problem here is more than a question about simply using drugs. He has railroaded innocent people, ruined careers, shattered opportunities, squashed dreams, stolen monies, and generally f***ed everything up for an entire sport.<br />
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And it didn't have to be that way.
Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com90tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-2755060350531322712012-01-09T18:28:00.003-06:002012-01-09T20:13:56.555-06:00Taking a break.If I were to spin this story if I worked for, say, a government entity, it would go like this:<br />In an effort to allow my mind to fully refresh and recover from the intense thought that comes with completing two full books within a few weeks of each other, I have decided to take some well-deserved time away from the computer keyboard.<br />The truth (pictured) is a little less glamorous. I can't type very well. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qIk-SEVIPYKMdAAy3dOnz1WK4El6QGibtgHizV2GVzBO8cBlo82lDLBK-p1NQj2YXAfvSXlGmSp1K4IXDloHA9si3x53oEmLQHJn2yDXNLFQAnt79GfCOuDlMJNineHxnc_bbB6qXRT9/s1600/JOS_1163.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qIk-SEVIPYKMdAAy3dOnz1WK4El6QGibtgHizV2GVzBO8cBlo82lDLBK-p1NQj2YXAfvSXlGmSp1K4IXDloHA9si3x53oEmLQHJn2yDXNLFQAnt79GfCOuDlMJNineHxnc_bbB6qXRT9/s320/JOS_1163.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695793890335561858" /></a>Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-6489136283363832782011-12-24T07:09:00.006-06:002012-01-04T19:55:43.022-06:00Book #3I wonder how real writers\authors do it. How do they write books? <br />I'm guessing that they are much more efficient than I. They probably use something fancy like an outline or something. They probably go into it with some idea of the structure. I'm betting that they know what their book is going to look like long before they type the first sentence. <br />I have a very loose idea of the general look and feel that I'm aiming for when I start a book, but I don't even come close it with the final product. For instance, Roadie started in my head as a 25-volume set of humorous encyclopedias on the topic of bike racing but ended up as a thick pamphlet. <br />Book #2 (as yet untitled) started as a humorous "War and Peace" for kids. A 752-page romp through the cycling world through the eyes of a 14-year-old. But somehow 750-pages is a little ambitious for a romp, so I scaled it back to about the size of a thick pamphlet. <br />I was a little more realistic when i sat down to write Book #3. It began as a thick pamphlet which I stretched out (by enlarging the font) to something more hefty, about as thick as a Nikon owner's manual. <br />Stay tuned. It's a good one. <br />The process I use is probably wrong. I just write. And when I get to a certain number of words, say 60,000, I look at what I have and decide if that's long enough. If not, I keep going. When I reach a comfortable number of words, then I go back through and cut out everything that doesn't sound right. It's a lot easier than you might think.<br />Oh sure, I jot down some notes. I have certain points that I need to hit, but otherwise, it's just a challenge to see how many words I can get into a single Word document. Then cut some out.<br />Book #2 was a narrative story, so I should have had some idea of where it was going. I didn't, but I should have. We'll see if the publisher notices.<br />Book #3 is more like Roadie, a collection of humorous lessons, thoughts, and anecdotes on the topic of relationships. <br />Yep, you read that right.<br />It's short by design. I stopped writing when I reached 20,000 words (approx. 80 pages) and then trimmed it back to about 19,500. Amazingly, I could only find 500 words that didn't sound right. <br />If you notice the books in the humor section of your local bookshop (if it hasn't been boarded up by now), you'll see that they're pretty small. Many of them are the size of a Nikon owner's manual. Mine will fit right in. <br />Now while I'm sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear from VeloPress regarding Book #2, I'm beginning an even tougher process of finding a publisher for #3. <br />Stay tuned. Should be a fun 2012.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-21334266262138957742011-12-08T21:17:00.003-06:002011-12-09T18:59:23.752-06:00Book #2When I sat down and wrote Roadie, I had no plans to become a writer; I still wanted to be an astronaut or a game show host. I only wrote it to see if it could be done. Seriously. I didn't look any further than getting it on store shelves. But then it did well. It won the Michigan Notable Book award in 2009. It sold. Suddenly, I found my calling. <br />So, what next?<br />I had a couple of conversations with the people at VeloPress about what the next project should be. I suggested a cycling-related book that they had no interest in. Apparently, a romantic comedy western wasn't on their radar. Instead, they wanted a book aimed at younger readers. The 'tweeners'. Apparently, there's a shortage of sports books for that age group. Supernatural vampire ghost romance novels?? Plenty. Sports? Not as much.<br />On top of that, VeloPress has had a difficult time cracking the young reader market. It's a hard audience to write for, but a lucrative market to tap into.<br />I, as I tried to warn them, know absolutely nothing about the 'tweener demographic. Zero. I'm not even sure if I'm spelling it correctly. <br />This, then, is a match made in heaven. Together, we'll go far.<br />So I set off to write a fictional story. Starting with a very daunting blank page, I had to develop a story line, create characters, develop a conflict, add a subplot, tie it up nicely, and make it reach an audience I know nothing about. The only thing I had in my favor was that it would be centered around the sport of bike racing. That's it.<br />I submitted a very weak first draft, and received three pages of notes from the publisher. I took it back and changed everything but the font. <br />I just completed it on Monday. Sent it to VeloPress, and am now waiting to hear if they're going to buy it or pass on it. No guarantees. It might end up in a dumpster somewhere. <br />Let me give you a TV Guide-style hint of the story line: a kid who lives for football discovers bike racing by accident and becomes hooked by the end of the book. There are no supernatural occurrences, no vampires, and no pirates. <br />Now, let me share a little about the writing process (in case I'm never asked to speak at a book signing). I went on long bike rides without my iPod. That's the secret to uninhibited creative thought. When I listen to music, I get distracted. When I don't, I can think much more clearly. As such, I do my best thinking on the bike - constantly dumping ideas into my voice recorder app.<br />The creativity ebbs and flows. I went through periods in which I couldn't stand to look at it. And I went through periods where I couldn't type fast enough. <br />We'll see how it goes.<br />While I'm waiting, I'm working on Book #3. It has nothing to do with cycling. It's a humor book on relationships. <br />You see, I'm a bit of en expert ...... on humorous relationships.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-19145253883364904262011-11-12T16:49:00.008-06:002011-11-12T17:24:40.667-06:00Cinelli launched her career.Take a look at this photo. Tell me what TV show she starred in. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivWZYkyvuy31L18mDOOhQMymW5clvfyymby6RkJKcA9Xx4X-2ubMowAWuS5igQBFf817KAgMkW9yWw3XPul48DigZkSad7KF9zyQLzpiP-A8ilyrX9h0q6JckTEh1tFufOH2siIOlFqGcT/s1600/JSwan.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivWZYkyvuy31L18mDOOhQMymW5clvfyymby6RkJKcA9Xx4X-2ubMowAWuS5igQBFf817KAgMkW9yWw3XPul48DigZkSad7KF9zyQLzpiP-A8ilyrX9h0q6JckTEh1tFufOH2siIOlFqGcT/s320/JSwan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674245561520683522" /></a><br />I was a freshman at Northern Michigan University. My major was broadcasting. My minor was photography. One of the class assignments was to photograph people, so I asked her to be a subject. <br />Let's back up... How did I meet her? I met her in the dormitory dining hall. Van Antwerp Hall was full of geeks and gomers. Luckily, we shared the dining hall with Hunt Hall which was full of normal and attractive people. (How does that happen?)<br />I had seen her many times before and had been looking for my opening for weeks. Then one day she showed up at dinner wearing a ... you're not going to believe this... it really was something special... if you're a male cyclist, you would have reacted the same way I did... she was wearing a baby blue, wool Cinelli jersey.<br />Hot? Are you kidding me? It was a long-sleeve wool jersey. Wearing that indoors was, yes, probably very warm.<br />Oh, you mean HOT? Yeah, I knew that's what you meant. Though it hung on her like a shower curtain, it was still the most alluring thing I'd ever seen. Seeing my chance, I sat down at her table and struck up a conversation. (Thankfully, I didn't trip and fall on my way across the room. Though I do remember my legs feeling somewhat rubbery.) Well, since this happened in 1983, I don't really remember what pithy remark I opened with, but it must have been a classic. She was kind. We hit it off right away. (As it turns out, the jersey belonged to her dad.) And when I needed a subject for my photo class, I asked her.<br />She was studying something thrilling like accounting or finance at the time. But after this photo shoot, she changed her career path. (It must've been something I said.) She followed her boyfriend to Minneapolis. Met Prince. Starred in a music video. Moved to L.A. Got a part in the first Lethal Weapon movie. That's about the time that I lost contact with her. I moved on to bigger and better things while she moved on to much bigger and much better things. Eventually she got a regular part on Cheers as Woody's girlfriend, Kelly Gaines. I could see her on Thursday nights on NBC, except for the fact that I didn't own a TV. <br />Oddly enough, it all started because of Cinelli.<br />And that, my friends, is a true story.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-67269573205557683262011-10-10T20:16:00.002-05:002011-10-10T20:17:51.111-05:00Lions Fan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE65rwNT4Ci6RYJlhrwQE6WGUYMjRRS_iYrZ2Gagf2u-UZ4y_CRtYEO8IcNZ3uRNgmugvguF0cg8vJRmwDAZ7yk3Kl4AmupF6YEtMplW3n8WctuWsLdnuE58HDkn3a2WF2dqTuZwhI4VEl/s1600/1gycbx.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE65rwNT4Ci6RYJlhrwQE6WGUYMjRRS_iYrZ2Gagf2u-UZ4y_CRtYEO8IcNZ3uRNgmugvguF0cg8vJRmwDAZ7yk3Kl4AmupF6YEtMplW3n8WctuWsLdnuE58HDkn3a2WF2dqTuZwhI4VEl/s320/1gycbx.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662037608326175586" /></a><br />Is it me? Or does the lake that I row on look vaguely like the Flanders Lion?Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-42385229145247481032011-06-11T18:35:00.002-05:002011-06-11T18:50:06.281-05:00On StageRacing is exciting. Especially the last few laps. Especially when a breakaway is caught in the last few laps. <br />Today at the Clarendon Cup in Arlington VA, the Clarendon Cup ended in a flurry of activity including a last minute catch of two escapees (Patrick Moren - Amore & Vita and Jackie Simes IV - Jamis Sutter Home). <br />Our job as an announcer is to make it crazier by yelling a bunch of stuff really loudly over the P.A. Most of what we say should be true and accurate, but it's <br />Richard Fries and Brad Sohner did all the work. I just rang the bell and captured the scene in Blue-Vision for your viewing pleasure. <br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-XakUW1E0lY?hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-XakUW1E0lY?hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />Say hello, by the way, to Maurice on the sound board at the beginning.<br />And that's the president of Arlington Sports, Rob Laybourn scampering out of the way right before the final sprint. <br />A peek at the chaos that is a bike race.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-79134362484694277612011-05-21T08:23:00.002-05:002011-05-21T08:31:45.194-05:00RumorsHere in Solvang, they have a special place for you to sit when discussing rumors:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63rLJMqQ8cTtT4tbD8BbkGWhGdHiCQCMIUJrZD0TmDuAsFOnfJaeCM2gA-4-GOu7ngH7_MBFWoVS4tGmSQmQPDXJV3kx3VqjbMi-fNzFt7XmPE-qBjMK4F0hodK_u1zM4tRY4uifKUkoh/s1600/DSCN5958.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63rLJMqQ8cTtT4tbD8BbkGWhGdHiCQCMIUJrZD0TmDuAsFOnfJaeCM2gA-4-GOu7ngH7_MBFWoVS4tGmSQmQPDXJV3kx3VqjbMi-fNzFt7XmPE-qBjMK4F0hodK_u1zM4tRY4uifKUkoh/s320/DSCN5958.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609161448321905714" /></a><br />The humor in that photo, for you non-inner circle types, is that here in the tourist town of Solvang, CA is where we got wind of the latest bombshell in the Lance Armstrong Doping Debate. I have never seen so many surprised looks on people faces at the news that longtime Armstrong lieutenant<a href="http://velonews.competitor.com/2011/05/news/cbs-news-reports-hincapie-testified-that-he-and-armstrong-supplied-each-other-with-epo-testosterone_174866"> George Hincapie has testified in the investigation</a>. Tyler Hamilton had launched a salvo earlier in the week. No one was too blown away by that. But when George spoke, the cycling world listened. <br />Now we sit and wait. <br />This post is not going to discuss the inner workings of the case.... yet. My job is only to point out the humor in the photo above. And to let you know that more news is most assuredly coming.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-3050037502373503222011-05-15T17:09:00.008-05:002011-05-15T17:41:24.855-05:00Amgen Tour of CaliforniaThis is what we woke up to find this morning:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-HYjmRDbhp_MVqpYz-7tk9hyphenhyphenKUWGsJZxIPafsuA11iKIdizeV5r_rDfv-rKRrElBz1D5fdlJAmlv2DhMtG8Z3q40rpBqrVs-4WH-QYk4ENbYfLHiTLeOTJ5959mXlQhyZ-VgqEXAXnoc/s1600/DSCN5793.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-HYjmRDbhp_MVqpYz-7tk9hyphenhyphenKUWGsJZxIPafsuA11iKIdizeV5r_rDfv-rKRrElBz1D5fdlJAmlv2DhMtG8Z3q40rpBqrVs-4WH-QYk4ENbYfLHiTLeOTJ5959mXlQhyZ-VgqEXAXnoc/s320/DSCN5793.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607074836186352738" /></a><br />Hello from the Ritz Carlton in North Lake Tahoe, CA. (I just had to throw that in.) Stage One of the Amgen Tour of California was <a href="http://www.mercurynews.com/breaking-news/ci_18069044?nclick_check=1">cancelled today due to unsafe conditions</a> - or as we Michiganders call it: normal riding conditions for most of the year.<br />We were actually starting to roll when the call came through. 5 minutes before the actual start of the race, the California Highway Patrol, Media, and VIP cars began to roll slowly out of town. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0K6Vz2oi9pcsAsXcRA85nMoVlYV2Sp_cRAi000FbAMCGAhlfxFES-hz4D6J06CfWzig3Oioa9t2ScdeuapR1LHzFsENkW6ITs2yyWRXRLzsgEGywPzsoDZl3QNsEKSIbqq-IZjCtjiEWA/s1600/DSCN5795.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0K6Vz2oi9pcsAsXcRA85nMoVlYV2Sp_cRAi000FbAMCGAhlfxFES-hz4D6J06CfWzig3Oioa9t2ScdeuapR1LHzFsENkW6ITs2yyWRXRLzsgEGywPzsoDZl3QNsEKSIbqq-IZjCtjiEWA/s320/DSCN5795.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607074497247256770" /></a> We were the talking to the crowds from our Mobile PA vehicle as we rolled along. Everything was going well until the radio crackled with the disappointing words: "Stand by for an announcement." We paused in the road at a standstill. The crowd knew something was up. "Today's stage is cancelled." We turned around and headed back to the barn making the announcement as we went. <br />It was the right call to make. Unfortunate, but it had to be done. For you doubters in the room, here's some video that I shot just 30 minutes ago on the route.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pzdYGJgozU8?hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pzdYGJgozU8?hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />With the recent death of a rider in the Giro d'Italia, now was not the time to be cowboys and try to race it. The conditions appeared to be improving when we took a lap of the course at 9am. In fact, the sunlight and clouds were creating an<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_HQ6GcDtxND0FXj1heyDOHIfMGYfxSdvaXAnuyiI3dcqAMm6z9eJXTXvjBzyG0J1jXPNzlsA-FIHHnWPq0geKAXqSLS2z438GRPtRACFzT1xrvhQ8mfqZcAHIAFXVqz74X7W16Eq_rzX/s1600/DSCN5796.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_HQ6GcDtxND0FXj1heyDOHIfMGYfxSdvaXAnuyiI3dcqAMm6z9eJXTXvjBzyG0J1jXPNzlsA-FIHHnWPq0geKAXqSLS2z438GRPtRACFzT1xrvhQ8mfqZcAHIAFXVqz74X7W16Eq_rzX/s320/DSCN5796.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607071904150777570" /></a> amazing backdrop. At 1pm, the pavement was dry. At 2pm, all he'll broke loose again.<br />I feel badly for the construction crews who were out at 4am building the venues in a snowstorm and for the people along the route who were out there waiting for several hours. They were huddling together in campsites set up on the KOMs (King of the Mountains climbs). The temps were in the upper 20s. The winds were HOWLING. Yet, these bike race fans were camped out and ready.<br />We're packing extra provisions for tomorrow's stage which goes over Donner Pass.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-9085120901813079272011-04-18T18:46:00.006-05:002011-04-18T19:13:29.526-05:00What is it that makes people hate us?I was riding along minding my own business, the story begins. <br />On a four-lane boulevard. Sunday afternoon. Very little traffic. Almost none. I have a huge tailwind, so I'm cruising along.<br />As I pass through a green light, a shiny new Lincoln pulls up to the intersection from my right. The driver looks to his left and sees me coming. He hesitates at the red light. If he had to wait a full second I'd be surprised. I was past him very quickly. <br />He pulls out after I pass, and he takes the left lane. He passes me without incident. <br />He gets stacked in the queue at the next red light. I catch up. He's #3 in the left lane. I'm #1 in the right lane. <br />Once we get past the red light. everyone in this queue is going to make a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michigan_Left">"Michigan Left"</a>. Not me. I'm going straight.<br />So far, we're all behaving ourselves nicely.<br />The light turns green, and we all proceed forward. Actually, I go forward, and they move into the center turn-around lane/taper.<br />Then I hear someone laying on the horn.<br />Immediately, a cyclist is trained (through past experience) to think one of two things: 1. It must be a friend that's giving me shit, or 2. Am I in danger? Personally, they come in that order to me. Some people may do them in reverse order. I contend that if someone has time to honk, I'm in no danger. (It's the dog that doesn't bark that bites.)<br />I look over my shoulder and see that I'm all alone on this two-laned boulevard. And the guy in the Lincoln is now flipping me the bird.<br />Perfect.<br />I laugh. It's funny. <br />(What does that gesture really mean? It's the most over-used, worthless gesture known to man. It ranks dead last among all gestures. Among my favorites are the "knife-to-the-throat" gesture that means: you're going to pay for that (though probably not with a knife because I hate the sight of blood). I also like the "pointing-at-my-eyes-then-at-you" gesture that means: I'm watching you. - Do people who wear glasses use four fingers to point at their eyes? They should, right? - And finally, I love this one: point two fingers at the ground and swing them back and forth slowly. This one means: you'll hang for that.)<br />I'm following all the rules of the road. I've impeded no one's movement. I'm not an issue to anyone in the world at this point. But he had to express his unhappiness with me. <br />Of all the reasons that we find to hate each other today - and believe me, people love to hate - some people just do it for the sake of doing it.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-51691672501100205002011-04-02T16:50:00.005-05:002011-04-03T18:03:58.395-05:00Chamois cream?I am dead set against the use of chamois cream. I'm also dead set against the NEED for chamois cream. <br />My club's clothing manufacturer produces a pair of shorts with a chamois so rough it could strip paint from patio furniture. (For all you non-cyclists in the audience, the chamois is that padding sewn into our shorts that makes our shorts feel like a diaper when we're standing. They're also supposed to buffer us from the constant friction when we're pedaling.)<br />When I asked my teammates (loose interpretation), they all seem to agree that the shorts are comfortable, but that you also need to use a cream of some sort. It boggles my mind that a majority of riders willingly accept this as normal.<br />Call me 'old school', but I prefer the days when actual chamois was used. Today, everything is synthetic. No problem, but can't we synthesize something that is more butt friendly? When did clothing manufacturers decide that it was OK to make shorts with abrasive pads in the arse requiring the use of a cream with the stupid name of DZ Nuts or Butt Butt'r? <br />I recently tried to buy a new pair of shorts, and the sales person handed me a tube and told me, 'you'll need some of this'. Oh no I won't, sir. Not at $18 for four ounces, I won't!<br />So let me get this straight. Now I need to purchase - at regular intervals - a tube of this slimy crud and apply it to my jibblies and hidden quarters prior to EVERY ride? And wash it off my hands?<br />No thank you. I refuse to add yet another step in the dressing process. <br />So let me ask you: which camp do YOU reside in? Am I the only one who finds this to be completely stupid?Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-34596969634991566212011-01-27T06:17:00.006-06:002011-01-27T15:06:44.141-06:00Worst Athletic Day EverIt took me 50 years to find it, but I found it.<br />The worst athletic experience of my life happened Saturday at the Cote Dame Marie Loppet, a 30k xc ski race.<br />This story actually begins a week in advance of the event when I started my annual winter weight loss program. With no intention of racing on Saturday, I cut my caloric intake by a fair amount. Not an unhealthy amount, just a fair amount. Then, on Thursday, my friend, Bonnie, strong-armed me into registering for the CDML. I've been skiing pretty well this year, so I decided to do it. Unfortunately, I didn't really notice that it was a 30k event. It didn't even register in my feeble little brain.<br />The weekend comes. The thermometer bottoms out. It was 9 degrees on Friday as I was in my basement frantically putting on the right wax. Tomorrow's race would be held on the kind of snow that squeaks when you walk on it. The ice crystals are very sharp and unfriendly. They make a special wax for this. You just have to be on top of things and prepare yourself. You see, half of your success in ski racing comes from matching the right ski wax with the current snow temperature. The other 90% is technique. Another 147% is in strength and endurance. That adds up to 287%. According to my public school math, 287% is about right. If you choose the wrong wax, you're sunk.<br />I was in a hurry because, like the character in my upcoming book, I procrastinate wildly. I had just enough time to put ONE coat of wax on my skis. One very thin layer of wax for very cold ski conditions. File that info away. It'll come into play later.<br />It was a balmy 6 degrees with a brisk wind when I arrived at the race site. I registered, got dressed, and skied a few kilometers for a warm up. Uneventful, so far. I was properly dressed for the weather. No problem. <br />I arrived at the start line with plenty of time to spare: almost a full ten seconds. Yes, I was late. As such, I found myself at the back of the 120-man field. So that's 120 people who timed their warm-up correctly. And me.<br />Moments later, we were launched onto the trail system. Moments later, I was in deep oxygen debt. I managed to pass a few slow starters quickly. Perhaps they were frozen to the ground. It's possible.<br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qiiB8ICbyPw" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe><br />I'm at about 1:26 into that video. I'm the guy who appears to be carrying an invisible piano.<br />Everything was fine for the first few miles. I was passing some skiers and getting passed by superheroes, or people dressed as superheroes. (Ski outfits are hilariously more hideous than cycling uniforms. That's quite an accomplishment.) <br />We reached the first big hill, and that's when my muscles informed me that they were A. underfed, and B. under-prepared.<br />I muscled up the hill and pressed on only to find bigger hills. That's funny; when I ski this trail any other day, it seems a lot flatter.<br />We would be doing two 15k loops. I would see these hills again later, and they would somehow grow and become steeper between now and then.<br />My world came crashing down at the 13k mark. My nutrition caught up to me, and all of my wax had been scraped off. One thin coat of wax doesn't last long when skiing on razor blades.<br />Good news: I still have eleven miles to go.<br />Moments before the race started, I sucked down a PowerGel with 2x caffeine thinking it would help me. All it really did was left me awake enough to be aware of what hell I was living. <br />I had the presence of mind to wear a belt pack with a water bottle filled with Gatorade. When I tried to drink from it, I discovered that it was now a worthless block of ice in the shape of a water bottle. Dead weight at this point, but I'm not going to throw away a perfectly good bottle. I'm awake enough to know better.<br />I also wore an iPod in this race which is now working against me. I programmed the wrong music altogether. For some reason, I had Ravel's Bolero in the mix. Those of you who know the piece will find humor in the fact that I did NOT crescendo as the piece progressed. Instead, I decrescendo'd rapidly.<br />One ski in front of the other, man. Ignore the music:<br />Beatles: I Feel Fine - bullshit. No I don't.<br />Coldplay: Cemeteries of London - sounds inviting.<br />Jean-Yves Thibaudet: Your Hands Are Cold - No shit they're cold. Every part of me is cold!<br />Queen: Don't Stop Me Now - Oh, please. Stop me now.<br />Arcade Fire: No Cars Go - great song, but I was changing the lyrics to "no skis go"<br />It was a slog (noun [usu. in sing. ] a spell of difficult, tiring work or traveling), and that was just the first lap.<br />At some point, I was passed quite quickly by a younger skier. Now I was cursing my age. this is obviously a sport for younger people. Who am I fooling? When am I going to learn?? Who in their right mind does this at age 50?? When can I retire from sport? ( Please make note of this comment. It's related to the punchline of this story. )<br />With no wax left on my skis, I was unable to coast or glide down the hills. Ponder that thought for a moment? I have ten more miles to go.<br />And then I bonked. <br />So that's the story of my worst athletic day. Plenty of lessons learned. Plenty of new depths discovered.<br />I quickly packed the car and drove away feeling old, tired, and out of shape. I drove home in a state of disgust and self-loathing. I drove home on heated leather seats which helped only slightly. <br />The next day, I checked the race results. Much to my surprise, I wasn't the last person to finish. In fact, I finished two places better than I was in the video above. My time wasn't far off my 15k time x2. <br />And here's the punchline: the winner's age is... 51.<br />Dammit! <br />I'm sucked back in.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-87057302790394008702010-09-29T19:30:00.006-05:002010-09-29T20:06:11.890-05:00A Sunday Event is a Hate Crime? I've now heard it all.This entry has nothing to do with bike racing, but as always, I'll weave cycling into it somehow.<br />I'm taking a side trip into the world of running this time around. We have a half-marathon taking place in my city on Sunday. As you can imagine, it'll mess up traffic for a few hours while 5000 runners have their way. As an employee of the City, I've heard from some angry residents who object to the road closures. Mostly, though, the community has come to accept and even embrace the event as our own.<br />One resident wrote a very ... alarming?... email to our US Senator:<br />Here are the highlights... (I need to say this: this is real. You may question that at times.)<br /><<<<<<<<<<<<br />Dear Senator Levin,<br /><br />I'm writing this letter asking for your help in your home State of Michigan because our First Amendment Rights that guarantees ALL the Right to Religion Freedom is now being violated right here in Rochester Hills, Rochester, Auburn Hills and Oakland Township by our local government (All REPUBLICANS) who have team up with the Crim's Organization to limit our access to attend church on the First Sunday in October for the third consecutive year. The main street out of my subdivision (Tienken Road) will be closed from approximately 7:45 AM until Noon. therefore my wife and I will not even attempt to attend any of our church worship services.<br />How bad is it? Well if you drive down Walton Blvd in Rochester Hills, you will see the following sign at the Meadowbrooks Christian Church: "CHURCH SERVICE CANCEL OCT. 3 BECAUSE OF RACE". This is an insult to every Christian even though I realize that we're now living in what is known as the "Post Christian Era".<br />If you check back into the history of America, I believe, that you will find that from the VERY BEGINNING of America, we have ALWAYS had our Christian Worship services on Sunday mornings long before any marathon was held in this country.<br /><br />Perhaps you could used your influence to have the FBI investigate this as a RELIGIOUS HATE CRIME against Christians. I would also like to invite you or a member of you staff to participate in our very first Christian Interfaith meeting early next year as we plan our strategy to fight back.<br /><br />By the way," Sunday will be the VERY LAST time for some Christians here in our community to ever attend a worship service" - but they're being denied this final opportunity by our government right here in America. But since this is an event members of the Republican Party want, they get to do what ever they desire.<br />>>>>>>>>>>><br />We take it for granted that quiet Sunday mornings are the best time to run an athletic event using public roads. But this response from a resident reminds us that there are some strong anti-event sentiments out there.<br />But the real point of this post is this:<br />Ready? It's pretty simple and somewhat brilliant.)<br />Why doesn't this Christian ride his bike or walk to church?<br /><br />There. I brought it back to cycling. Not too big a stretch, really.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-85148346236973096102010-09-07T21:29:00.006-05:002010-09-08T09:44:08.144-05:00Season's OverThere have been seasons in the past in which I've dreaded the final race. In 1993, I clearly remember being almost despondent at the end of the season. It was at the Michelin race in Greenville SC. As the cars loaded with bikes drove away from the corner of Main St. and Mcbee Ave., it felt like that icky feeling you get when you're leaving Disneyland. The trip home after that weekend was a sad one. <br />Labor Day Weekend now marks the end of road racing season here in Michigan - oh sure, there have been occasional additions in September such as the Pino Morroni races or the Tour de Leelanau (jumpin' jiminy, why did I ever let people talk me into racing that monstrosity; I had no business being on that roster). This year, I wasn't feeling much sadness. <br />I'm not sure what that means. I interpret it as a general acceptance of the passing of another season, and maybe a yearning for ski season. (And a thankfulness that it's still a few months away; I'm not ready.) But it's also a relief that I don't have to be a slave to the bike for the next 5 months. <br />A couple of observations that affected my season (not in a good way) have reduced the sadness surrounding The End:<br />Observation #1. Our local cycling scene has become rather predictable. I'm sure everyone experiences the same thing across the USA: Everyone knows who is fast and who isn't. Everyone knows what everyone else can do and how they do it. Everyone expects "the attack" by the strongest guy at the same point in the race. You can almost list the riders who will make the breakaway, and you can probably predict, with some degree of accuracy, the order of finish.<br />It's really quite stale. Yet, every weekend, we drive to a medium-sized town and go through the same routine as if on a loop. That's bike racing.<br />This year's final weekend was a bit different because a flock of Canadian riders came down from Toronto and brought new color to our Michigan scene. (Mainly, red and white. I mean, don't they have any other colors down there? [Canada is south of us, so it's down not up.]). <br />It was A LOT more fun having unknown riders mixing it up with us. Sure, they talk funny, but they race well. And instead of watching the same five riders who consistently kick my arse every weekend, I now had to watch twelve riders who could kick my arse. That's a lot more fun. (Seriously, it is.)<br />Observation #2: The range of tactics is quite limited at this level of racing. Very few teams have more than two tricks in their folder. <br />Those two tricks are: <br />1. "Get one of our guys in the breakaway, and shut down the field."<br />2. "Don't let any breakaways get away; we'll set up Leon for the field sprint." (Leon is a fictitious name that I pulled out of my book of fictitious names that authors carry around with them. Mine is leather bound.)<br />There are slight variations on those themes, but nothing plunging too deep into the Coors Light playbook. (Len Pettyjohn's Coors Light cycling team was, in my opinion, the epitome of smart riding. I saw them win countless races in countless diabolical ways. They are the standard by which I judge team tactics.)<br />Yes, that's more than a little frustrating and adds to the boring predictability of the racing here. Consequently, the end of bike racing season isn't much of a letdown this year. <br />There's a lesson here that I learned this week: travel more.<br />Next season, I'm going to take road trips to Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. Rather than complain about the stale local scene (which is probably equally stale in OH, IN, and IL), I'll try to be that mysterious out-of-towner who comes in and shakes things up. I encourage you to do the same. <br />Except, ... um... let's not all go to the Ohio on the same weekend.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-81313229623487101572010-08-14T07:24:00.002-05:002010-08-14T08:05:35.793-05:00BlacknessI did it again. I swore I wouldn't let it happen, and I did. <br />A warm summer night and an invitation to meet up with friends in Lake Orion (10 miles away) was what started it. They were there for the Lake Orion Horseshoe Club's Guinness Book of Records attempt for the longest horseshoe marathon. (Don't ever again tell me that cyclists are crazy.) I pulled my 'cross bike off the hook, threw my lights on it, filled my water bottles, and hopped on the rail-trail. I was off in search of adventure.<br />First of all, I was so proud of myself for remembering to fill my water bottles. Believe it or not, after 40 years of riding, I still sometimes forget that part. I usually discover this about 3 miles from my house and vow to never let it happen again...until the next ride.<br />Night riding is a really cool experience. If you've never done it, I highly recommend it. And on warm summer nights, it's even better. With a full moon, you don't really need your own light. Tonight, however, there was no moon. But who cares! I have my super duper light mounted to my handlebars! Let the good times roll!<br />I'm surprised at how many other people there are on the trail after dark. I was continually covering up my light with my hand so as not to blind them. It's a pretty bright light; it'll knock out your night vision in a hurry. So as soon as I spot someone way up ahead, I try to squelch the light because I know how annoying it is to be caught in the beam of an aircraft landing light. <br />I made it to Lake Orion. Hung out. Watched some horseshoe pitching. And then decided it was time to ride home. <br />When I get 1k down the trail, the light dies. Instantly. Black. Because it's a digital light, it doesn't fade slowly like an incandescent light would. No, it just goes off without warning. <br />Remember a few paragraphs ago when I said "with a full moon, you don't really need your own light." Well, with no moon at all...<br />Now, I could have turned around and gone back to the horseshoe pits and asked for a ride. I could have called my friend to come and get me. I could have called a cab (I jest. Lake Orion has no cab service. I only wrote that for my New York friends who probably would have said, "Yo, why didn't you just call a cab?") But I didn't. I got myself into this mess...<br />The only source of light was the faint yellow glow in the distant sky from the lights of Rochester at the other end of the trail. But with no clouds to bounce off of, they were of no use to me. It was pitch black. I had 9.5 miles of wilderness to navigate in total darkness.<br />OK, let me explain that wilderness, in this case, means nothing more than deer, skunks, field mice, and an occasional muskrat. Still, I wouldn't want to hit any of them except for maybe the mice.<br />I waited for several minutes to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, but they never reached an acceptable level.<br />You know where this is going, don't you?<br />Yep, I did what any modern day survivalist would do; I pulled out my iPhone and opened the flashlight app. That little glow that was designed to help you find your glasses in the kitchen at night guided me all the way down the trail. It worked pretty well, actually. It pointed out the two deer. It illuminated the posts that prevent cars from driving the trail. It also marked my position for the oncoming riders without lights.<br />That's right: oncoming riders without lights. As much as I was cursing my own forgetfulness/stupidity all the way down the trail, there were people out there at 11:30pm who were intentionally riding the trail without lights on a moonless night. Who knew that such a recreational option existed? <br />And they might be onto something. I can see it now (sure, now that it's daylight): a new form of bike racing: a nighttime time trial down the trail. Two categories: lights and no lights. <br />It'll be epic.<br />Riders ready?<br />Go.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-74837189308187454872010-08-03T07:06:00.003-05:002010-08-03T12:54:05.972-05:00Disaffected lout.You know how you sometimes come up with all the funny things you SHOULD HAVE said in response to something? OK, then follow along...<br />I received the following email from a name that I kinda recognize as someone who I know, but I NEVER receive email from him. It's obviously a virus sending out emails to his mailing list. But I thought I'd treat it as a real email as a writing exercise. <br />Here's the email:<br />Hello,<br /><br /> I'm writing this with tears in my eyes,my family and I came down here to London,England for a short vacation unfortunately we were mugged at the park of the hotel where we stayed,all cash,credit card and cell were all stolen from us but luckily for us we still have our passports with us.<br /><br />We've been to the embassy and the Police here but they're not helping issues at all and our flight leaves in few hrs from now but we're having problems settling the hotel bills and the hotel manager won't let us leave until we settle the bills..I am so confused right now and thank God i wasn't injured because I complied immediately.<br /><br />I await your response<br /><br />Thanks<br />Dj<br /><br />Now here are my responses:<br /><br />#1 - focusing on the hotel rather than the predicament, and demonstrating that I didn't read the entire email:<br />Dj,<br />Glad you had fun! Which hotel did you stay in? I prefer the Royal Norfolk near Hyde Park. <br /><br />Best,<br />Jamie<br /><br />#2 - deflecting attention away from his plea for money and on to his annoying grammar:<br />Dude, <br />What is with your grammar? Did you forget how to use a comma and a coordinating conjunction? Don't rely on Microsoft to catch those mistakes!<br /><br />Always looking out for ya,<br />Jamie<br /><br />#3 - Playing along. Sort of.:<br />Dj, <br />OK, I've withdrawn every cent from my account and am ready to send it to you. Please give me a PO Box to send it to. But first, let me tell you about Amway.<br /><br />Jamie<br /><br />#4 - highlighting the cruelty of bad timing:<br />Dj,<br />That's crazy! I was just in London walking around Trafalgar with a satchel full of cash and several airline vouchers. Geez, your luck is in the toilet this week. Call me when you get home. Or, the way YOUR luck is running, maybe I should say "IF you get home".<br /><br />Home,<br />James<br /><br />#5 - Not wanting to be taken advantage of:<br />Hey, let's not forget that you still owe me $20. Don't try to weasel out of that just because of this little setback.<br /><br />#6 - A shared London moment:<br />Hey Dj!<br />Mind the gap!<br /><br />Best,<br />Jamie<br /><br />#7 - Empathy and nothing more:<br />Dj,<br />That happened to a friend of mine in Monte Carlo. True story. National Cycling League President Peter O'Neill had sneaked out of town without paying the $22,000 tab. Jeff "the Rocket" Rutter and his wife got stuck in the lobby of Loews Hotel surrounded by unsympathetic gendarmes and an angry hotel manager who was insisting that Rocket pay the tab since he was the last one from the NCL party to check out. <br />OK, so he didn't get robbed in a nearby park; he got screwed by the NCL. And I never heard how that resolved itself, but I can certainly appreciate your predicament.<br />My advice. Steal something. Like a lamp or an ashtray. Come home with some memento from this ordeal. <br /><br />#8 - More bad timing: <br />AUTO-RESPONSE<br />I will be out of the office until Tuesday, August 17. Contact the Mayor's staff at Mayor'sOffice@rochesterhills.org or at 248.656.4600. <br /><br />I won't send any response, but it's always fun to think of all the funny ways you COULD respond should you ever wish to.<br />If you have a good response, leave a message...... BEEP!Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-55022039583395666712010-06-21T07:43:00.003-05:002010-06-21T09:34:03.567-05:00The Perfect Ride on International Surfing Day.What’s the perfect ride?<br />A lot of possible answers to that question. <br />Here’s my list of the elements it should contain:<br />- Point to point. Go somewhere. Don’t just ride back to the starting point. End up in a different place. <br />- Long distance. More than 100 miles. Enough to drain the tanks. <br />- Scenic. Don’t take me through an industrial park. No subdivisions. No rail trails showing the backs of buildings. I want country roads with an occasional vista and a view of a large body of water. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtxQY73HYeD_As2ptwa0VUOJ0oxbsIPMHh6Ntu4NOBuqdVhHZ6KG4dt2oRHfMVq9FgiEGTcCQgpHQ5xJs0RDsdqJjcol87_odmoBv2nAhJ-h4E_lbFenmFqGH8ONyH0L14EZroLsEQdm9h/s1600/Last+Import+-+34.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtxQY73HYeD_As2ptwa0VUOJ0oxbsIPMHh6Ntu4NOBuqdVhHZ6KG4dt2oRHfMVq9FgiEGTcCQgpHQ5xJs0RDsdqJjcol87_odmoBv2nAhJ-h4E_lbFenmFqGH8ONyH0L14EZroLsEQdm9h/s320/Last+Import+-+34.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485232900154903570" /></a><br />- Hills. Nothing too big. C’mon, I weigh 200 pounds. (Thanks for being surprised by that fact.)<br />- Flatlands. Nothing too boring. <br />- Smooth Pavement. I know I’m dreaming in Michigan, but I would like roads free of potholes and patching and cracks. I would like roads that haven’t beaten to death by un-enforced weight limits. I want smooth roads for the ENTIRE WAY. Not just a few miles of smooth roads. I want the whole route to be perfect. (I’ll accept a few miles of cobbled roads, if I must.)<br />- An Apron. While I’m in dreamland, may I ask for that little slice of pavement to the right of the white line. You know, 18 inches of extra pavement? Is that too much to ask for my tax dollar?<br />- Tailwind. OK, this one is do-able. If I’m going point-to-point, this one isn’t out of the realm of possibility. I just have to pick the right route on the right day. But it needs to be strong. We’re chasing after perfect here, and that would be perfect.<br />- Towns (and convenience stores) placed at proper intervals to allow me to refill the bottles. Not as easy as you think. <br />- No traffic. OK I’m starting to lose it, aren’t I? I live in Detroit’s north suburbs. It’s motorist hell here. This request has the potential of putting me on the no-fly list for appearing to be unstable. But the perfect ride would have almost no cars.<br />- No harassment from motorists. If I ask for light traffic, it’s no guarantee that the cars that I DO see won’t be complete idiots. Heck, I’ve been harassed in my own subdivision. What are the odds of going +100 miles without hearing someone yell at me to “get off the road!”? Heck, I want them to give me the whole road. I don’t want anyone to cut it close.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlRIAYygzXYpDQRz672c4MIcsga2o1I3DFR2eUn0rn1buUjRqz96xweceRUetyrzUxHGzfBmFVCBcbOE2YiGKR3LwskSkhkH4q0mrUbzx6eMUR9zzOMUqiulR_BMNqKf-NpwHpSd27AxL/s1600/Last+Import+-+33.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlRIAYygzXYpDQRz672c4MIcsga2o1I3DFR2eUn0rn1buUjRqz96xweceRUetyrzUxHGzfBmFVCBcbOE2YiGKR3LwskSkhkH4q0mrUbzx6eMUR9zzOMUqiulR_BMNqKf-NpwHpSd27AxL/s320/Last+Import+-+33.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485228666866117394" /></a><br />How much can this guy harass me? <br />- Friendly waves from the locals. No, I haven’t been drinking. I really want to see people wave from the front porch, or from the passing car. I want people to be happy to see a cyclist ride by. I want people at the aforementioned convenience stores to ask about where I’m riding, and I want them to be startled at the start and end points. “You’re riding from WHERE to WHERE??”<br />- No mechanicals. No flats. No broken chains. No broken spokes. No snapped cables (shifting or brake). And, for the love of a pre-supposed god, no squeaky chain. (Oh wait, that’s up to me, isn’t it?)<br />- And waiting for me at the end of my ride, I want the following: Warm sunshine. Beautiful sandy beaches. Refreshing water temps – not too cold and not too warm. Playful waves. And friends to greet me with food and drink. And a surfboard waiting on the sand. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSc-unvUu29XBHAUqfa4AAA5QZWss9geGiQqA9xest4-ImIdHKhMRHmavk6nSDtpHY1DS1uUkYKrMGJAdql2NIPMk8xxHzUR0QubbXoCGNp76EgNZHfvqBy_jSdsO53f6Ym8fBelN-LCc_/s1600/PICT0283.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSc-unvUu29XBHAUqfa4AAA5QZWss9geGiQqA9xest4-ImIdHKhMRHmavk6nSDtpHY1DS1uUkYKrMGJAdql2NIPMk8xxHzUR0QubbXoCGNp76EgNZHfvqBy_jSdsO53f6Ym8fBelN-LCc_/s320/PICT0283.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485233790186484914" /></a>And some Coppertone. And a comfy ride home.<br />- No entry fee. I’m not describing a charity ride. I’m not asking for a SAG wagon. (Why the Screen Actor’s Guild shows up at charity rides is beyond me, but there always seems to be a truck with SAG printed on the door.) This is a solo training ride from my front door. I don’t want to have to pay money for the privilege of all the above.<br />Add it all up. Imagine a ride like that. Go ahead and just TRY to imagine a ride on smooth pavement with no cars. Try to imagine the tailwind that makes you feel like a million bucks.<br />That was my ride on Saturday, June 19th. From Rochester to Port Austin. <br />The clouds parted and the perfect ride came my way. I wish you would have a ride like this one for yourself soon. If you ask nicely, I’ll tell you what route to take.<br />Seriously, no cars. On a Saturday. Twilight Zone-esque.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKU-nkUMHz_uTK4rSzBU393cYH4D3YWc4jdb6aNnmOOydikDTMn-9fobJIrcp2FvId5vzIqBwAOdE_hVgTBZ-D5RXlQmqPaxvdiSTuuIZp2mJ5ss0B-1j-gRpbbh_dha7iEv4OAo7n-mne/s1600/Last+Import+-+30.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKU-nkUMHz_uTK4rSzBU393cYH4D3YWc4jdb6aNnmOOydikDTMn-9fobJIrcp2FvId5vzIqBwAOdE_hVgTBZ-D5RXlQmqPaxvdiSTuuIZp2mJ5ss0B-1j-gRpbbh_dha7iEv4OAo7n-mne/s320/Last+Import+-+30.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485228082565716738" /></a><br />And yes, that's me falling off the surfboard. I never said I was GOOD at it. I just said I like to do it.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiri8pZhGTmmtMtHcbwPaT2zFA9Y8Zublxlh_bXnhidb_hr91iJOqh6a_vdx2JxVhgz5cJ-Owc7OsYaJqeArp9owPsIjzdOtV6u-Mcx5JTb7mi5xt1-vSU-KCr2bqJtYVT5hHD74rZXAaCA/s1600/Last+Import+-+35.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiri8pZhGTmmtMtHcbwPaT2zFA9Y8Zublxlh_bXnhidb_hr91iJOqh6a_vdx2JxVhgz5cJ-Owc7OsYaJqeArp9owPsIjzdOtV6u-Mcx5JTb7mi5xt1-vSU-KCr2bqJtYVT5hHD74rZXAaCA/s320/Last+Import+-+35.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485234068878028130" /></a>Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-48197520112298049212010-05-13T23:26:00.009-05:002010-05-14T09:03:34.397-05:00Living, ActuallyI'll try to make this about cycling, but it's mostly about golf. <br />I played golf at Pebble Beach today. I didn't have my A-game with me (which I blame indirectly on Michigan weather which prevented me from preparing fully), but I did OK. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dBsdDfiAbW3EK_iK0226sl7I2LFeOu9IuwNb2FGOh7y6xOK94loo5dsVU1k9YhLaCoaFk13W80YCBk9OKqr6rUVRpXQ7l9MNHfFXkYSPXxEE26XXbbHuxDZVWbeF9ozL4UNgJkTRVRk4/s1600/DSCN5506.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dBsdDfiAbW3EK_iK0226sl7I2LFeOu9IuwNb2FGOh7y6xOK94loo5dsVU1k9YhLaCoaFk13W80YCBk9OKqr6rUVRpXQ7l9MNHfFXkYSPXxEE26XXbbHuxDZVWbeF9ozL4UNgJkTRVRk4/s320/DSCN5506.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470977981125144050" /></a><br />Playing Pebble is the golfer's equivalent to taking your bike to France to ride up l'Alpe d'Huez. You don't go there trying to match Marco Pantani's time; you go there to just do it. Believe me, the course record is safe in both instances.<br />It's one of those things in life that you see on TV enough times to think you have a good sense of what it would be like to actually be there, and then you go there and find that it's much grander than you ever imagined, and you instantly feel a little stupid for actually believing what you saw on TV.<br />Maybe the true theme of this post is this: TV is fake. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-K9PRGcQV2BIxjnDU5dxkbl645t93nz-JHkV2SC-LXpgKvrznkD-jotYtr3t6rJmm0DgMNwHh9qNQ5D6qBs1Hixg813DvwmK91vpaFUNNAbp1TDsrwegyKvGO3Tuhcw_Znu7N3Mja5if/s1600/PICT0121.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-K9PRGcQV2BIxjnDU5dxkbl645t93nz-JHkV2SC-LXpgKvrznkD-jotYtr3t6rJmm0DgMNwHh9qNQ5D6qBs1Hixg813DvwmK91vpaFUNNAbp1TDsrwegyKvGO3Tuhcw_Znu7N3Mja5if/s320/PICT0121.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471121828956508386" /></a> <br /><br />The real way to live life is to get in a plane/train/automobile and go do the things that you've only watched on TV. Surfing is a good example that pops into mind. You can watch it on TV and think you understand it, but you have to actually paddle out into a wave of saltwater that's looming 10' over your head and feel the immense power as it hurdles you toward the shore in what you hope is a controlled flowing trip.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmedDOO2U4bap2n2bOYlDGV5BEVwqR3wik8eZNiq9n09gMzymebbQ9rCfONKHHePDMvRXBmULANcrmrvJvb1FlEp3sjXLDu1RWe9CX__s7x95mgpH8M2IGgUI6GtKpPLQtKv97rTFOnR1p/s1600/PICT0140.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmedDOO2U4bap2n2bOYlDGV5BEVwqR3wik8eZNiq9n09gMzymebbQ9rCfONKHHePDMvRXBmULANcrmrvJvb1FlEp3sjXLDu1RWe9CX__s7x95mgpH8M2IGgUI6GtKpPLQtKv97rTFOnR1p/s320/PICT0140.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471124240167090786" /></a><br />If you watch the TV coverage of this year's U.S.Open at Pebble Beach, they'll show you snippets of what's happening, tidbits of the history, and glimpses of the course, but what you'll miss is all the nuance and color that is found around every corner. From the pressure of the first tee to the abrupt weather changes on #7 to the long march up the 18th fairway, that course was a feast. <br />As I said earlier, my game wasn't on fire. I made it back to the Clubhouse. (That's the phrase that my father said every time he'd come home from his Thursday night golf league and we'd ask him, "How'd you do?". Bike racers can relate to this sentiment, right? Sometimes getting back to the car in one piece is all you can ask for. But we always knew that he had done better than that. Or maybe we just hoped he had.)<br />The coolest thing about the experience was being there and doing it. Not watching someone else do it. Not watching it on TV. Not listening to someone else tell the story about how they walked up the 17th fairway looking at a birdy putt on a green that the commentators say is difficult to hit.<br />But actually living it and doing it.<br />And missing the putt and settling for par.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-78030216384940711302010-04-09T21:07:00.011-05:002010-05-05T21:08:44.983-05:00How far are you willing to go to watch a bike race?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZf6asUUlAwRMDXxRSMFUBytBrJPC5X6294t75zYsREU4GeiqbTJZ0y1Gn1rWLeP7KcsB4gYDtZ7YI2jELUcMEZNjgXvoWfEvwJmzqKCzyWQOjwY7RObd-ec6zwpwpVWtMiqhvHs9NoQP/s1600/2407_68213118632_712433632_1400904_6472_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZf6asUUlAwRMDXxRSMFUBytBrJPC5X6294t75zYsREU4GeiqbTJZ0y1Gn1rWLeP7KcsB4gYDtZ7YI2jELUcMEZNjgXvoWfEvwJmzqKCzyWQOjwY7RObd-ec6zwpwpVWtMiqhvHs9NoQP/s320/2407_68213118632_712433632_1400904_6472_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467970855474600402" /></a><br />If there's an award for being the most dedicated cycling fans, it has to go to Oran and Jo Kelly. <br />Originally from Ireland, now living in Vancouver, BC, they spend their vacation time chasing (literally) the bike race. We met them along the road of California last February. Through the rain and cold, and over mountain and valley, they played leap-frog with the peloton for the entire 700 mile route. So while we're plodding along at 24mph, they're on a high speed Road Rally through the countryside trying to get ahead of us to catch another glimpse. <br />Now that's dedication.<br />They're living the cycling fan dream that I so often espouse. Were I not involved in the Tour as an announcer, I would definitely be doing what they're doing. So I live vicariously through them... while I clutch my race credentials and free food and thank my lucky stars to have the job I have.<br />Thought I'd ask a few questions of the guy on the side of the road:<br />Question: How did you become a race fan? <br />Oran : As a kid watching the Tour on a black & white TV at me Gran's, I stayed with her over the summer, so it was always the Tour on TV at teatime... Ireland only had 5 TV channels at that stage, it was on the new "I'll not be watching that Channel" according to my Dad...My Gran always spoilt me.... <br />Question: Who were your first favorites? (Since you're from Ireland, you had BETTER say Sean and Stephen.) <br />Oran (Kelly): With my name it could only ever be Sean, though I'm not quite as grumpy as him (yet!), Jo may give ye a less biased view on this sometime though.<br />Question: What do your friends/coworkers say about your vacation choices (Tours of California and Missouri)? <br />Oran : The California trip didn't cause too much of a reaction, as a lot of them head down there on a regular basis. <br />The trip to MO in September was met with the slowly stuttered response Mih-ZUR-ee ??? And an almost pained quizzical look on our co worker's faces... Followed with the standard, "No, we aren't racing... No, we are not good enough no matter how hard we try" to their questions about the racing... <br /><br />Question: Describe your typical day at the Tour. <br />Oran : Typical day usually starts the day before... How's that for a typical Irish answer?! <br />After the race/team buses we head back to the rental car and the ubiquitous Garmin GPS, (Great team, but an even better race fan accessory), to look for the nearest laundromat, (Gotta get the 7-Eleven jersey cleaned for the next day). Laundromats vary amazingly across a State, some are in less desirable areas, but give tourists an insight into areas that you never get from a Rough Guide tourist book... As the jerseys go through a less arduous spin cycle than the riders did for hours before, we get the road atlas out, ( A good 50+ page State Road Map with all back roads/dirt tracks marked is usually the first purchase we make & vital for any dedicated race fan)... <br />Then its like a military operation, using the stage map/log to work out where the race intersects with non race route roads, what time the race will get there, is there likely to be a break away, what time we will have to be there before the critical road closed sign goes up, is there a back up plan, what is the last possible spot we can see the riders on the road, where exactly is the finish in town, how can we get onto a road that brings us into the finish from the opposite side of the race route? (Always keep a few quarters in your pocket for a parking meter)... I'll use a highlighter to mark the maps & then Jo writes down a list & times of all the road numbers/turn offs/directions/nice to be there/must be there time cut offs, (The people who produce the race route should really chat to us about making this easier), as I wander about chatting to the other folk in the Laundromat, (Team Type One's staff were usually in the same place as us and were great to chat too!)<br /><br />God Bless America for building most of it`s town in a grid fashion, makes it so much easier than the haphazard random street distribution in European towns... Then it`s time to find sommat to eat.... The trusty Garmin then gets us back to the Hotel to watch whatever race footage is available on the net... Our GPS must have some sort of Irish virus, the road back is always via a liquor store, for a few stout to sup on while watchin' the race highlights... Missouri had some superb microbreweries... <br /><br />Next morning it's up and away from the hotel after making the most of the breakfast, we always leave with a few muffins in the pocket for out on the road... Never stay in a place for more than one night, the owners tend not to appreciate the extra ration's we 'liberate"...Then it's off to the start area, parking in the strategic spot picked out during the recon the evening before... The smaller teams usually arrive first, so it's a good opportunity for a quick hello with some of the riders & mechanics... The smaller teams are always open for a quick chat.<br /><br />Question: How did you get to SIX stops on the route in one day? <br />Oran : The stars aligned in a way a drunken Belgian with a fistful of frites on the hallowed Pavé can only dream of... <br /><br />Question: What was the highlight of your Tour? <br />Being on the road to experice as much as we could.... MO & CA offer so much... Thank you to them both.. <br /><br />Question: What's the best schwag (souvenirs) you got? <br />Hard to narrow that down... Weird as it may seem, the Cervelo mechanic, Alejandro, gave me the cables off the bike Thor Husvod won on the sprint into Modesto in California... Inego Cuesta always spoke to us wether on the race route or at the team bus... The QuickStep D/S/Mechanic took a pic of us from the race car on the way past on the race route... Tom Boonen stopped on his warm down to chat & sign a bidon<br /> I should mention CSC/Saxo have always been wonderful in how they treated Jo, podium flowers, team signed musettes & podium caps a reflection of how great they are as a team away from the cameras as well as on the road... Is it wrong that a pro-peleton team has given her more bunches of flowers than I have?... I'll move swiftly on me thinks...<br /> <br />I'll be seeing Oran and Jo in just a few days when the Amgen Tour of California gets rolling. It's a week that goes by REAL fast. Expect a ton of reports from the road. And maybe a shot or two of these two cycling fans!Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-68735569479685428912010-04-03T15:04:00.008-05:002010-04-04T07:30:35.422-05:00The Pin Protocol. (Newbies, listen up!)I touch on this topic in "Roadie - The Misunderstood World of a Bike Racer" (Available at velopress.com), but what you don't know is that I had to cut a lot of text out of that original draft in order to make a book that one person could carry. (Believe it or not, the original draft was almost 500 pages long! Needless to say (but not preventing me from saying it anyway), it lost weight in the editing process.)<br />One of the things that I cut out is an explanation of HOW to correctly pin a race number to a jersey. Pay attention,friends, spouses, Romans, countrymen, etc. You may be called upon to perform this task. <br />The correct procedure: <br />1. Grab SIX pins from the box of pins at the registration table. That's right. Six.<br />2. Lay the number flat on the back in a position that will be seen by the officials/camera.<br />3. Ensure that the number is oriented correctly. NOT upside down.<br />Tips #2 and 3 seem obvious, don't they? Yes, well, that's because you are a dreamer. <br />4. Near the corner of the number, you will poke the pin through the number. DO NOT use the hole that is provided in the number. That is designed for runners, walkers, and other charity event participants. (see photo)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmZGunTlSL2NdchbvAnmKYLrEJJDJs4MPKqES_wS4KVfB-FL8tkjwHGwmeYqUmR2nmv3OoE3ndwalJh6bl7c3CmAAHDtL037_SOHvs9WmZpl5xV4OjsY6dxp1UF3CLHvZGm27rEp6ThiW/s1600/DSCN5487.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmZGunTlSL2NdchbvAnmKYLrEJJDJs4MPKqES_wS4KVfB-FL8tkjwHGwmeYqUmR2nmv3OoE3ndwalJh6bl7c3CmAAHDtL037_SOHvs9WmZpl5xV4OjsY6dxp1UF3CLHvZGm27rEp6ThiW/s320/DSCN5487.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456014749772111618" /></a><br />5. The pin should go DOWN through the number.... DOWN through the jersey... UP through the jersey.... and UP through the number again..<br />The number should now lie flat.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkGEy41Q279HCYlQd6PuIWZJYxVe30UmkFBqKbeU4oSTzK3UDk1ZF6xxSUj5sMHurVXpRcaaUUlY6RN5Ewp-qjCktlUKJWcMb1BxdcYfdC7Cetdduw1s7_C2i62P5a6C2-KcDU3IZpomu/s1600/DSCN5486.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkGEy41Q279HCYlQd6PuIWZJYxVe30UmkFBqKbeU4oSTzK3UDk1ZF6xxSUj5sMHurVXpRcaaUUlY6RN5Ewp-qjCktlUKJWcMb1BxdcYfdC7Cetdduw1s7_C2i62P5a6C2-KcDU3IZpomu/s320/DSCN5486.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456014935530892242" /></a>6. Repeat this step at each corner. You should have two extra pins because you followed my direction and took six from the box at registration.<br />7. Use the last two pins to affix the leading edges of the number. If you want to go crazy, you can use EIGHT pins. Get an early start. <br />Last week, in a horrible rush, I allowed a newbie teammate to pin me. Big mistake. Not only did I have a parachute on my back throughout the entire hammerfest. I also had a straitjacket that could embarrass Houdini.<br />I got back to my car lacking the manual dexterity that comes from said hammerfest. I tried to remove my jersey (a pullover). It won't move. The worst scenario has happened: My teammate has pinned through through my bib shorts and to my baselayer. TWICE! Now, picture this for a moment: I can't just pull everything off in one piece like you would a pullover because it's all pinned together. You know how a woman can remove her bra without removing anything else? Very hot. I also can't do that because I'm pinned to my shorts AND baselayer. <br />I am now alone in the parking lot trying to reach behind my shoulder blade to remove not one but TWO safety pins. If I pull up too hard, I give myself a wedgy. If I try to go low, I almost break my arm. My fingers aren't working well because my hands are still shaped like the handlebar. It took me several minutes to get the first pit undone, many of which were spent just resting from the effort. <br />I fight the temptation to get a pair of scissors and cut myself out of this mess. <br />The lesson is obvious: when called upon to pin a friend's number on, PLEASE follow the procedure above.<br />If it's a rider from another team, ignore everything that I've just said.<br />Now, you're probably wondering how this story ends. It doesn't. I had to wear those clothes to work on Monday morning. I was finally able to find a coworker able to undo a safety pin just after lunch.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-25890766135953103442010-03-25T19:46:00.010-05:002010-03-28T10:40:54.069-05:00A Two-Part PostPART II<br />Friday, March 26th<br />First race of the season is tomorrow. Weather forecast calls for 49 and sunny. A day of cold hands and burning legs, I reckon.<br />I won't even notice the weather, though. I'll be glued to the wheel in front of me hanging on for dear life.<br />Or who knows? Maybe I'll be off the front in every breakaway (except the winner).<br />I have no idea how I'll feel. <br />It's hard to gauge my fitness at this time of year because A. I train alone throughout the winter mixing XC skiing with the gym workouts, and B. I have never used a Power Meter.<br />I have always eschewed numbers. Heart rate, cadence, distance, speed, kilojoules, watts, roentgens, adiabatic lapse rate, whatever. I have always trained by feel. No diaries. No notes. I don't even wear a watch to know how long I've been on the bike. I just try to get home before it gets too dark. <br />That all may change here soon. VeloPress is planning to release a new book soon on the topic of Power Meters, and in a moment of foggy thought during a conversation with my publisher, Rene, I made a statement to the effect that "I think I might take the plunge and see what results I can muster by using a power meter.'<br />Hmm. Interesting . . . in a Morgan Spurlock kind of way. <br />I could start from scratch and document my findings over the course of a 90-day period. With the help of a few friends who are well-versed in the numbers game, it would be interesting to see how far it takes me, and how difficult/easy it is. <br />First things first, I need to get through tomorrow. Let me tell you, the nerves have started to warble in anticipation of the first few laps of the season. <br />Should be fun.<br />And then I wrote....<br />Part II<br />Saturday, March 27th<br />As it turns out, I certainly did notice the weather: Saturday was sunny and WINDY. <br />Wind has a way of ripping the race apart. Once a gap forms in front of you, the alarm bells should ring loudly. You have to close the gap, or watch the race ride away from you. Hesitate, and it's over. <br />At one point early in the race, a huge gap formed splitting the field in half. It grew quickly. (Guess which side of the gap I was on. Yes, the bad side. Of course. Why would you think otherwise?) The race was riding away from us. We were going fast, but the other group was going faster. And a general, momentary apathy came over us, as if we all had quickly resigned ourselves to the idea of being in "the laughing group" today. It happens. Go with it.<br />The split grew to almost 30 seconds in just a few laps. We were definitely the laughing group, although no one was laughing. And then we got our act together and started working together to try to bring it back. I mean, working HARD.<br />You can probably tell (by the fact that I'm even telling this story) that we eventually got ourselves back into contention by catching the leaders. All I want to say is that this was one of the hardest days of racing I've ever had. The wind combined with a bunch of younger fast dudes on bikes made it a hell on wheels.<br />Let me tell you what it's like: <br />The speed picks up, and you fight desperately to hide from the wind. Find someone bigger than you, and ride as close behind them as you can. But the wind always finds you and makes you work harder. And then the pace picks up again, and you don't look at the person in front of you because that would require you to raise your head up. No, you look at his rear wheel while your nose taps your handlebars. And your legs grind the gears until you feel fire in your quads.<br />Then you come to the little hill. Before the race, it was a pretty tame little hill. That's because you were going 8 mph. Now you're going 26 mph. This is where your legs complain the most. And in your head, you calculate how many more freakin' times you'll have to climb up this Mt. Shasta. If a gap opens up here, you should start to worry because when we go down the hill, we'll face the wind full-on. If that gap opens at the top, it'll be bigger at the bottom. Oh, the injustice of working up AND down the hill. That's just wrong. <br />If you survive it (and a lot of riders didn't. We started with about 60 riders, but only 25 riders finished in the lead group.), you will try to find any place on the course to rest. Find any moment that allows you to take a drink of water, sit up, stretch the back, and rest the legs. It's amazing that you can do all that in a 50 meter stretch of road. Unfortunately, you're only given 40 meters. The pace was unrelenting.<br />WHO is driving this train? What horse is on the front of this line making it go so fast? I want his name and address. I'm going to forward it to the Mob.<br />The next trip through the Start/Finish area, you hope to see low numbers on the placard indicating that the torture is almost over. Argh! 20 minutes remaining??? Are you kidding me? Seriously, is that a lame joke?<br />You recalculate the hill. Decide that you have 6 more trips up it. You continue to look for that magic 50-meter stretch of road that doesn't exist today. <br />By this time in the race, you should know who NOT to ride behind. Here's a hint: if they're smaller than you, or if they're able to tightrope the edge of the pavement, avoid them. (Tim Saari, I'm talking about YOU!)<br />When the wind is coming from the left side, you want to be to the right of the guy in front of you. That's where the draft is. Unfortunately, it's where the edge of the road is, too. Tim Saari is one of those guys who can take up the last inch of pavement leaving you NO draft at all. Never ride behind him in a crosswind.<br />I won't mention the names of the guys I hid behind because I don't want them to know that they should learn to stick their nose in the gutter. I'll need them next week.<br />Somewhere in this melee, your mind starts to look for way to coax the legs into giving more (or NOT giving up). You try to remember all the things you did over the winter to prepare for this day. All that skiing? All those trips to the gym? All those "no thank yous" when offered a sickeningly awesome dessert? All those hours on the rollers? (OK, you know that's a lie. I didn't touch mine all winter.) You try to convince yourself that you're not a year older than last year when you ALSO got your butt kicked - why should this year be any better? You might also plan to bury your face in a sickeningly awesome dessert when this is over. That actually helps. <br />Finally, the officials indicate that it's dinner time. They ring the bell indicating One Lap To Go. <br />Good god, what took them so long? There is no sweeter music in the world. Beethoven is jealous of this bell. Angels listen to it to get new ideas.<br />Hold on tight. If you thought it was fast before, it's going to be even faster. The race to the line is a frantic mess as riders scramble to get in a good position for the sprint. What remains of the field is all those strong guys who were making the race so hard.... and me. <br />And then it's over, and you find yourself back at the car unable to stand straight up because your body has assumed the 'hide me from the horrible wind' position. You drive home celebrating the fact that you made it to the end of the race, and you start worrying about next week when you get to do it all over again.<br />Man, this is a great sport.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-22413015653621123552010-03-16T09:37:00.001-05:002010-03-16T09:37:16.719-05:00CheatersAs an announcer, my primary thing is bike races, but there have been times when I've found myself holding the mic at non-cycling events. For example, I worked the Michigan Lifeguard Competition once. I announced a Bed Race in Greenville SC in '92. I hosted a fundraiser auction in '95. Never did a tractor pull competition. (Yeah, that's a swing at Brian Dreber!)<br />Last week, I was announcing at the American Water Workers Assoc. (AWWA) Michigan Tapping Competition. Take an 8" water main, four guys, a set of tools, some copper pipe, and a faucet. Their task: tap the pipe, connect it to the "curb stop" and then to the faucet in the fastest time. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Per5UawuCBhCtglJKRoGEzvG-j2j0AWj8KnIKF-XAsFiqh6sauC-4W40zreI_0RyX7hcRRFl2EJzWeEGdcN0YNPqJCy_r0t-P-bDDAgDISE673WIAzhkUbhyMOYyOSLIawvtiR-eo_B9/s1600-h/DSC_2244.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Per5UawuCBhCtglJKRoGEzvG-j2j0AWj8KnIKF-XAsFiqh6sauC-4W40zreI_0RyX7hcRRFl2EJzWeEGdcN0YNPqJCy_r0t-P-bDDAgDISE673WIAzhkUbhyMOYyOSLIawvtiR-eo_B9/s320/DSC_2244.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449235433580378242" /></a><br />The rules are pretty simple: you must use the same tools and supplies as everyone else. You get two tries. There are penalties for leaks and other mistakes. Even the rags are supplied by the AWWA, as are the three attentive judges/timers.<br />Basically, it's a time trial with tools. Pretty fun to watch ... if you're into watching people hook up a spigot to a water main. Surprisingly, it had as many spectators as my last industrial park criterium. OK, maybe not so surprisingly.<br />The winning time was 1:40, which is 27 seconds off the state record. The winning team gets a trip to the national competition in Chicago.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj29V4i6DtzrnqnZvURacwDZ4J1HRt_cMRYPKzVnd6TNYO7z7eIQP7fK71JHwslONoCey6jhxE7iLAPkQkzXzOCM3NNkK4VIAjqqvoa19Uf_DPWtuFMV9p0Kdn5JGWGLBPO_UaUWiQGDE-N/s1600-h/DSC_2264.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj29V4i6DtzrnqnZvURacwDZ4J1HRt_cMRYPKzVnd6TNYO7z7eIQP7fK71JHwslONoCey6jhxE7iLAPkQkzXzOCM3NNkK4VIAjqqvoa19Uf_DPWtuFMV9p0Kdn5JGWGLBPO_UaUWiQGDE-N/s320/DSC_2264.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449235662378082146" /></a><br />The competitors were intense as they milled about prior to their event. Picture the start of the Olympic 4-man bobsleigh. Same faces. Same pre-game psych ups. Same posturing. Same physiques. Each team would spend several minutes placing their tools in the exact location, measuring and calculating tube length, and counting the threads on the tapping apparatus. <br />There was a lot of talk about improved work skills, team pride, the brotherhood of DPS workers, and the hard working blah blah blah. <br />And then they'd cheat.<br />Oh yeah. Even in something like this, there was cheating. I won't say which team because it's still under investigation, but the judges discovered "foreign nuts" in the scrap pile at the end of the competition. (They're required to use nuts supplied by the AWWA.) They also discovered oily rags which are forbidden. As I mentioned above, the AWWA supplies the rags. If there's oil present, then someone must have brought it in with them obviously to oil the threads. <br />I'm flummoxed by the idea that people are so desperate to win something that they'll break the rules to do it. Lehman Brothers, Toyota, Riccardo Ricco, and now water tapping crews from small towns in Michigan.<br />Who next?Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7583892887872057096.post-17709732480048039752010-02-27T15:57:00.010-06:002010-02-28T21:31:01.946-06:00An Olympic Post- Canadians have changed. I like the old way better.<br />- The movement to put Cyclocross in the Olympics needs to get serious quick. Even if it means giving up another cycling discipline in the Summer Games, it's time for 'cross to put cycling in the Winter Olympics. <br />- The IOC has to know that there are some sports that aren't ready for prime time. Women's Hockey is a good example. It's not a world sport. It's a two-country sport. Look at the scores. Shelf it. Revisit it later. <br />- I was disappointed to see the NBA-ification of the events in Vancouver. For instance, the JumboTron at the Women's Classic XC venue flashed "MAKE SOME NOISE!!" as the leaders came into the stadium on the final lap. C'mon, do we really really really need to tell the crowd when to get excited? Are they so stupid as to buy tickets, drive all the way to Whistler wearing face paint in the color of their country's flag, sit in the cold rain watching the race for two hours, and then NOT know when to get excited? Doesn't it mean more when it's a more organic and spontaneous swell of crowd emotion rather than a computer generated outpouring of carefully planned applause?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7gxHCDjWGfyGOv8WfFaAcA0sKCzSg10CVvRvvUGWAx02l4wTV07f8h9p90QDIAWdiys1w5x9rUen1oZ8KwMeo26m0-nAOG3Ax5mKa93rKA6W3GRLjB9qZg11FRKhhal3hvGHiprIpYas/s1600-h/flag_canadian_maple_leaf.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7gxHCDjWGfyGOv8WfFaAcA0sKCzSg10CVvRvvUGWAx02l4wTV07f8h9p90QDIAWdiys1w5x9rUen1oZ8KwMeo26m0-nAOG3Ax5mKa93rKA6W3GRLjB9qZg11FRKhhal3hvGHiprIpYas/s320/flag_canadian_maple_leaf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443501653298777010" /></a><br />- The Human Interest Factory has been working overtime this year producing heart rending stories on every athlete on the field of play. They're all fascinating, but honestly, don't we all have a story that, if told in soft focus with the right background music, would be just as interesting? Most would be just as compelling without the soft focus and music having to do with defying the odds, overcoming obstacles, and persevering through hardship. Isn't life, itself, against all odds? Aren't any of us just fortunate to have made it this far? Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking that we mint 2 billion gold medals for everyone. I'm just saying that, for me, the Olympics are fine without all the extra stories. I appreciate the athlete endeavors and the achievements of everyone who marched into the stadium. I wish they wouldn't distract from it by adding all the schmaltz. (I know I'm in the minority here and that John Q. Iowa needs those stories to keep from changing the channel.)<br />- I never watch Figure Skating. <br />- I'm not surprised by the attention that Curling gets every four years. I'm more surprised by how much attention the attention gets. When I see a news story about how much attention Curling is getting, I think: OK, but how many people will seek out a bonspiel next weekend? None. Come Monday, it'll slink back into obscurity seen only on CBC on Sunday afternoons. It looks interesting in the same way that shuffle board looks interesting. <br />- My knees still hurt just from watching the Moguls competition early last week. <br />- Short Track speed skating is chaos. And it's refreshing to see athletes acknowledge this fact in the post-race interviews. In cycling, we have the standard line "That's bike racing." to explain away all the things you can't control. I heard Apolo Ohno say almost the same thing after he was edged out.<br />- Speaking of Ohno, the best post-race interview ever came after his DQ in the 500m final. He alluded to the Canadian judges, but he also wrapped it up by saying, "I just need to go faster." Classy.<br />- From a spectator's perspective, the Luge, Skeleton, and Bobsleigh cast no magic spell over me. I'm sure they're challenging for the athletes. I don't mean to diminish the accomplishment, but I just can't watch one sled after the next doing the same exact thing as the sled before it. If they want me to relate to it better, they need to make it more like the backyard luge run that Scott Stanley and I built in 1973. It had pine trees on both sides, a bump that would break our spine, a tree stump that was hidden if we had new snow, a barbed wire fence that we had to duck under, and it ended by skittering us across a pond. Good times. (Remember when I said that we're fortunate to have made it this far? Well...)<br />- Speaking of Bobsleigh, when those guys hop out of the sled at the end of the run, don't you want to ask them for help with a home improvement project? Or ask to borrow their lawnmower? They look like my neighbors.<br />- I don't think people were excited enough about the American results in the Nordic Combined. That was huge. And I hope people saw the heart-stoppingly close races in the Nordic Ski events. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhE-Vk7lZ_wTWBPaiJ8xt_xqZPTTSslmDprIGl6HRKqW9aqsIW8U8aE0vMgtPfdEiEo5iOIgKDIaXxCsMH3EnSVrZOdj55bwcyGshJNZk4hjk8SCmCt5-x_1027oc_qw6cqjC8fGOxVZ1y/s1600-h/26198_1343343578075_1065787013_1298305_1056986_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhE-Vk7lZ_wTWBPaiJ8xt_xqZPTTSslmDprIGl6HRKqW9aqsIW8U8aE0vMgtPfdEiEo5iOIgKDIaXxCsMH3EnSVrZOdj55bwcyGshJNZk4hjk8SCmCt5-x_1027oc_qw6cqjC8fGOxVZ1y/s320/26198_1343343578075_1065787013_1298305_1056986_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443501387882808706" /></a>It's an oft-overlooked sport that produced some of the most incredible finishes. Me? Biased? No sir. But if you'll excuse me, I have to switch my wax to something softer due to the warm weather we've been having. <br />The photo of Bill Demong's Nordic Combined finish was taken and kindly shared by Todd Hagemans. Thanks Todd!<br />- Favorite moment: The female German skater who, in the Team Pursuit semi-final, slid across the finish line on her belly but had the wherewithal to put her skate forward to get the best time. <br />- I know there'll be a huge post-event letdown after this is over for spectators as well as athletes and organizers. It's been a high-energy time with lots of drama and excitement. I lived it in 1996. Life was a vacuum for weeks afterward. What do we have to look forward to after it's over? College and NBA basketball? Thanks, but I'll leave my TV off until The Masters in April. <br />--- Have a favorite moment? Leave a comment.Jamie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18129097097108229691noreply@blogger.com27