Time to hit the road


In a few weeks, the sting of winter wind will be replaced with the crush n’ buzz of carbon and gears

For those of you who are devoted cycling fans, you know that last week, the cyclocross world championships were held in my home town of Louisville, Kentucky. I’ll fess up, fellow ‘crossers, this roadie has always only known cyclocross as “that Euro sport that ends just before the Spring Classics.”


I ride my road bike over pavement. These guys ride over cow patties. Fast.

That, and it’s super ultra-fun to shoot.

I’ve been slogging it out in the gym and on the trainer, a.k.a “the pain closet,” enjoying (as much as disciplined agony is enjoyable) grinding to videos from The Sufferfest and following my carefully constructed training calendar thanks to guidance from The Cyclist’s Training Bible by Joe Friel.cycliststrainingbible

With nutritional information guided by Dawn Weatherwax and my blood lactate measured during a test at the University of Cincinnati, I’m more informationally-equipped than ever before.

In between it all, I’ve taken the better part of a year to complete the redressing of my beloved old steel Cilo; a handmade Swiss bike from the Reagan era. I had intended for her to be my “beater bike,” and my winter trainer, but she turned out so beautifully, that I can’t bear the notion of her getting wet or scratched!

Bizarre that I’d rather ride my carbon race bike on post-monsoon Ohio roads than my steel one…

1 para-miltary-cilo

To date, she’s my longest-running, successful relationship. And I still think she’s sexy after all these years.

Thanks to Adobe’s fantastic color-planning website, a little peace and quiet with my Prismacolor’s and Moleskine notebook, a lot of elbow grease, steel wool, Krylon, masking tape, and a gas mask, she’s all done, and ready to make me that much stronger in the hills.

I’ve never been so in love with a heavy, steel bike.


…of course, I’ve stripped her down and done the nip n’ tuck three times over two decades. My Galatea.

My first race is early March; a la course de verité: a time trial. Just me, my training, my bike, and a clock. I’ll let you know how it goes.


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