July photos

Apprentice Surpasses Master

It starts with an idea, a talk, a desire to understand bikes on a deeper level. It ends with shedding the tennis shoes, making the break, dropping the master. I am talking about the cycle that long time riders experience when bringing new riders into the sport. There is a complicated formula that, once all factors are plugged in and the equation is done in longhand, the expected answer favors protégé. (photo right, Carhart in tennis shoes on cross bike at Ipswitch in December.)

Perhaps this is best conveyed by illustration. Mike Carhart joined us for a Wednesday ride this past November. I saw the new face through my night light as we left Conte’s Norfolk at 6pm, and I thought he was a friend of Mike Park. Park thought I knew him, so we both made silent assumptions the other would look after him. Carhart dropped from the main group but stayed ahead of the chasing group. Caught in this 'tweener status, he missed a turn on the route out to Ipswich. We did not notice his absence at our Ipswitch regroup, and it wasn’t until our return ride to Conte’s 40 minutes later that I counted bodies and said to Park,

Where is your friend?
What friend?
Oh shoot, we lost one.

We figured he wouldn't return and that the story would circulate back to us via nicer riders he would find. However, Carhart did return the following week. Anyone who shows back up after such rude treatment has passed the first test of cycling grit—can you handle getting dropped, left, forgotten because it will happen at some point, often multiple points if you are really riding with those who challenge you. (photo right, Carhart's road computer after it surpassed 1000 mile point.)

He passed his second test when he had 2 "firsts" on a 20 degree day in January: first time with clipless pedals AND first time doing a cyclocross race. When he said he survived 3 high speed falls on the frozen tundra, I knew then the equation was tipping in favor of Carhart being faster than me well before the spring thaw. Indeed, he has been logging some good miles, has completed 9 cat 5 races and of course is now faster than I am. (I know the term "faster" is relative and situational, but I mean that in most situations, I will be behind him. I also mean that his skills are worthy of his speed.)

He is going to be in Germany for 15 months beginning in August, and he has plans to research bicycling history as it relates to geology as a hobby while there (think Mont Ventoux). Clearly, he loves the sport, and he gave me the greatest of compliments when he said that I taught him a lot. I stiffened when he said that because I am known for running my mouth too much and was afraid of what story would be connected to my “teaching” him. He said he learned mostly by watching me, by example, much to my relief and gratitude.

Of late, his wife Elizabeth Hoag-Carhart has taken to my wheel and here the cycle begins again. I have been doing this long enough to know that by the time she returns from Germany, she will be ripping off my legs. She has handling skills beyond beginner level, her untrained cardio appears to be well above-average, mixed with long femurs and competitive mindset. No matter how much I factor into the equation my years of experience, number of mountain passes, miles logged, the answer to X will favor her. Nature surpasses nurture, apprentice surpasses master.

Lori Lucero 1961-2009

Crit contrasts

Amphib Crit sky in the morning shifted as the day went on.

The pride of my team is the diversity of riders. On the race course yesterday, Shelby (age 10) raced the junior category, and Pete (66) did the masters race.

Photos by BJ Samuel and Mike Park.

Facebook Worthy

I agree with Kim Iverson who once said Facebook is evil. As I was preparing to exact revenge on those lovely "friends" who posted pics of me from junior high, I came across a few what-were-we-thinking cycling images.

That is what we thought a cyclocross barrier should look like circa 1995. We put on a cross race in conjunction with a crit despite the fact that none of us had ever even been to or seen a cross race. Ben Turner (pictured) and another guy were the only ones who showed up with a cross bike, the rest had mountain bikes.




Yes, that's a bus, a Search and Rescue bus actually. Inside, rescuers are busy trying to locate Donna, a mountain biker we lost in the woods on a day when 15 degrees was the high. We had a communication breakdown with Donna, resulting in her spending almost 10 hours hunkered down in the chilly woods. SNR found her about 1 o'clock in the morning when temps were close to zero degrees. Winter, 1997.




Lori, Susan and I certainly weren't the picture of cycling fashion this day in Europe (either France or Switzerland). Two of us sleeveless. . . with armwarmers. . . riding with someone covered in a balaklava. No doubt we passed as U.S. travellers that day. 2003 I think.

Guest Blogger

(Photos by Jesse Peters, used by permission.)

That's Paula Smith tearing up switchbacks at Devil's Backbone Challenge. I missed this race due to a broken water line at the house but am happy to report Paula (Rostello) won the expert women's category and shares beer naming rights with pro Andy Guptill (Colavita). Here is her race report, an exclusive to bikevoice.

The first ever race at Devil’s Backbone Brewery in Wintergreen VA took place on Saturday, May 23rd. It was a beautiful day and you couldn’t ask for more perfect weather. I didn’t feel quite the nervous pre-race jitters that I typically have on the way to the race. After all, I had never raced the course and had no idea what to expect. The race begins with a 2 mile road climb that I decided to “warm up” on.

Just a few feet into the climb and I knew I was in store for a tough race. For anyone who has ever ridden the roads around Wintergreen, they can relate I’m sure. Frank told me to make sure to “break a sweat” during my warm-up; this was not a difficult task to achieve I soon learned. After the pre-race meeting, we the racers were in place to start the race. I figured they would run the race like I’m typically used to, by starting each of the categories in waves. Suddenly, there was a mass start and everyone just went. Frank started yelling for me to “get up to the front” as previous memories of road racing suddenly flooded through my mind. I managed to move to the top half of the pack, far enough to where I knew my competitors were behind me—where, in my opinion, they should always be.

So there we all were, climbing the first climb, a mere 2 miles long, a simple feat I tell myself, after all, I had climbed 7 miles during the Wintergreen Ascent; thus, this would be a breeze. If only there was a breeze! The seemingly-perfect day at the start soon grew hot and uncomfortable on the black-top pavement. I heard some guy complaining about how hot it was and felt selfishly glad someone else was feeling my pain. I tried to find my rhythm and managed to make it to the top. As I took a quick surreptitious peek behind me to see where my competitors were, a guy tells me it’s too soon to start looking back. I realize he is probably right but feel assured just the same that I don’t see anyone behind me in my category.

After I reach the top, I quickly shift into my big ring for the descent. Having just messed up the week prior in the Urban Assault (a long story in itself but suffice it to say the big ring-to-easiest back cog combo can apparently stretch your chain so far that it renders your back wheel immobile and, for me, unfixable), I repeat over and over to myself as I’m descending ‘get out of your big ring at the trail’. Luckily, this strategy works for me this time as I enter the trail in my middle ring, with my bike fully functioning—though that’s more than I can say for myself at the moment as the previous brief downhill descent proves to be only a short reprieve and immediately, there is a climb. It is a big, long, climb. It’s one of those kinds of climbs that you think ‘if I just make it around the corner, I’ll be at the top’, only to find that just around the corner, there’s more, much more.

Finally, it appears I have finished that climb or two, or three; it’s hard to say, they have all appeared to blend into one big giant climb at this point. At long last I approach some trails that appear to be flat, only to find that they are false flats. Hey, who knew they had these in MTB races too! So this is how the race goes on and on, with the occasional descent that just teases you into thinking you’re nearing the end of the lap, as once you look above and see the top is still a great deal away you realize that the descent you just made only puts you farther away from the top. Not to mention that I still have another lap to do or part of a lap, I don’t know, I’m not good at listening to instructions prior to a race and I didn’t commit the route to memory at the start. I guess this was the case for others as well as a few I breathlessly ask “do we have to do this climb again?” don’t seem to know either. It is at this point that I curse the trail Gods and begin to question my own sanity. I mean who, in their right mind, would put themselves through such torture? I profess to stop racing altogether (after I finish this race of course).

At long last, I reach some downhills that quickly make me feel like I am on a pair of skis, as that is how steep they are. Nothing like pulling your brakes in so far that you simply fishtail down the hill. I decide it’s not the greatest time to question whether my brake pads are too worn. Down a few of those sketchy hills and I am nearing the end of the lap just wishing I was racing Sport but instead I am directed to some part of the previous trail and to my surprise (not), I start climbing again! Only this time, there’s a nasty (and this is putting it mildly) climb that we were warned about at the start. Apparently, nobody has ever ridden it to the top. I do manage to ride the first part of it and pass some guy who yells at me “you are a mad woman”! I consider this a compliment and thank him.

Soon though, I too am off my bike and hiking the hill. I can’t figure out whether it’s easier to roll the bike along beside me or carry it over my shoulder. Both seem equally as painful and it’s the longest ½ mile I’ve ever encountered! Then there are more climbs and still more and well I’m guessing I’ve got the point across by now…it’s a climbing race. So, I finally near the end of the trail and ask Jared if I have to do the 1st road climb again. I feel rather delirious at this point and my sense of direction is all turned around. He tells me I only need to climb the first hill I originally descended on the road (you know that brief period of time I was in my big ring in the beginning of the race when I thought the worst of it was over). I briefly contemplate asking him if I really have to but then I think ‘no problem’ that was a quick downhill before, this last climb will be brief. (I soon come to realize how one’s perspective changes when you’re climbing vs. descending a hill.) I mean, will this race ever, ever end?!

At long last, I reach the top of the final hill. I look over my shoulder and don’t see anyone behind me and then it’s a glorious road descent that I love. The wind is swirling around me and I am almost done. I reach the road to the brewery and make a left into the gravel road. They warned us about this turn; however, considering what I’ve just been through, this is a piece of cake, or perhaps a cool pint of delicious craft-brewed beer that’s calling out to me.

I am done, I have crossed the line and I can honestly say it was one of the hardest races I have ever participated in. Would I do it again? Of course! Would I change anything about it? No. I mean…that’s MTB racing!

Schleep-Dog Pale Ale

There has been a firestorm of bike awareness activism going on the last 4 weeks. Wes wrote a guest editorial, numerous cyclists wrote letters to the editor, Jeff and Bill met with Virginia Beach's Commonwealth attorney about law enforcement and prosecution, Jake and other cyclists in central and northern VA got the governer and mayors involved in bike to work day, people are working on signage and PSA's to raise public awareness about cycling laws--the list keeps growing.

My contribution to cycling equality in VA came in the form of a phone call to the promoters of Devil's Backbone mountain bike race happening near Wintergreen this weekend. The title sponsor, Devil's Backbone Brewery, had offered to name a beer after the first place pro-expert male, with no mention of the female winner's name being used.

I could not let that go--not for my own sake--I am an expert racer, but as Gilmer says, I have Expert technical skills with a Sport engine. So I suck against true experts. But I could not bear the thought of the state that is home to pros Susan Haywood and Deidre Winfield having a race where the beer naming did not include women. Not to mention there are extremely fast women on the expert circuit, including Johanna Krause, Paula Smith and Jannie Belt to name a few.

Perhaps I am not the only one who called because there has been a change. Here is the latest annoucement from the Devil's BB promoter: The Devils Backbone Brewery, last week, announced an additional prize to 1st place Expert Men to brew a special batch for them. But, after careful thought, the Devils Backbone Brewery management and brewer, have made a slight revision to keep things fair. 1st place Expert Men/Women will now split naming rights for the Beer to be brewed!

Now, I might not win this thing, but of course I considered the sound of my name as a beer. My 10th grade students have given me a nickname this year--SCHLEEP-DOG--perfect for an ale I think. Funny that if Kevin and I won the men-women's categories (both very distant possiblities even he would concede), then SCHLEEP-DOG is actually a combo of our names and would fit the criteria for splitting the naming rights. What do you think, Kevin?


Some of my students say SLEEP-DOG which also would work. SLEEP-DOG Pilsner, perhaps. At right is Emory, my favorite sleeping dog.


**By the way, the menu at Devil's Backbone Brewing Company looks great and the prices are right. It is located at the foot of Wintergreen resort.