The Agony of defeat!

Dear readers. Sorry about the delay. I've been busy living vicariously through Ian Crane's blog, and when it's come to thinking about my own exploits, I just wasn't to be flexed with.

Recently, after my third bout of sickness in a month, I decided to hit the reset button. Wenatchee reassured me that racing can be fun even if you don't have good legs, but nevertheless, I was feeling very rundown, and riding didn't feel as exciting as it ought to for an optimistic bike rider like me. To give an idea of how I felt after the 'chee, take a look at this picture of our host's garage freezer, home to what was once a proud selection of carbonated beverages:

(a'splosion!)

There's an obvi silver lining to this situation: coke ice cubes!!!!! Ian, don't even TRY to claim this as a new get-rich quick scheme. I'm on this one. Now ice doesn't water down your coke as it melts! Just shake up some coke, drop it in the freezer, wait a few weeks, then eagerly shove your sweaty phalanges into the frosty pile of cokecubes and aluminum shrapnel that now fills your freezer (patent pending).

So anyhow, my legs were cracked like the thin walls of a coke can. I put my bikes aside and focused on other things, like visiting friends in Walla Walla, where I saw this sight at Whitman's commencement ceremony:

(a dog that is only comfortable when surrounded by people legs)

Then I traveled to Hawai'i with my family!

(Pretty much an average day)

Craig Undem connected me with his bike shop owner friend Donnie in Pa'ia, who outfitted me with a Scott Speedster (vroom!) bike for a few days. I had taken some advice from the real Joe Holmes and stopped worrying about riding as training, so I just took the steed out and rode it how I felt. Well here's what I felt like doing:

(Hwy 30 on the way to Wailuku)

(Iced Toddy stop, natch. Early starts are crucial on Maui to avoid high temperatures and wind.)

(Northwest shore of Maui. One-lane switchbacks for about 20 miles.)

That's the elevation profile for the Pa'ia to Haleakala ride. 35-miles, nbd. The bros at the shop were all LOLing at me for my late (10:00am) start, but I wasn't concerned. I could ride 35 miles in like an hour if I really wanted to, so I headed out with a bottle of water and a Snickers (Rich McClung style). 3:30 later, I arrived at the summit of Haleakala, having almost finished my bottle of water! Here, I was treated to one of many fellow-tourist interactions that made me sigh heavy.

Morbidly Obese Ohio Resident 1: "Zomg did you ride your bike here? Are you training to ride with Lance Armstrong??"

Ok, pedestrian enough, what else have you got?

Morbidly Obese Ohio Resident 2: "We were going to go check out the Olivine Pools on the West end of the island, but then we heard that it was a 0.25-mile hike, so we decided to take the 2-hour drive to the top of Haleakala instead."

Ok, now we're getting somewhere. Part of what I noticed about tourism on Maui, and I think this applies to tourists everywhere, is that accessibility can be a toxic feature of any destination in a heavily-toured area. The crowdedness of a given Maui location seemed in direct correlation to the quality of the pavement that led to it. It's true that Haleakala provides a killer view of the island on a clear day. It's also true that the Olivine Pools (and their surroundings) are other-worldly and breathtakingly gorgeous. However, the 10-minute hike that separates an automotively-encapsulated tourist from the Olivine Pools acts as such an effective barrier to entry that the roster of visitors to Haleakala probably outnumbers that of the Olivine Pools 10-to-1. I was a tourist, too, but I feel like when exploring a new place, you ought to do a little work, and sometimes the work itself is what makes the destination satisfying.

Aaaanyway, that was self-indulgent.

After ruminating on subjects such as these, Joe Holmes called me and told me I was to ride Mt. Hood with the Elite Team. Ruh-Roh!! I told him okay, but that my legs would be rusty, if well-rested. I decided to get my competitive juices going again at the airport on the way home, although I was defeated in my first competition back by a flock of pilots, who pro-cut us in the security line, crit start style.

(Delta CHOP!)

In my next post, I'll tell you all about how my ill-preparation for Hood treated me.