Why I must finish reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

When Robert Pirsig died on April 24th a wave of heartache followed on my Facebook newsfeed. All of my mechanically inclined and/or adventure-seeking friends took the opportunity to praise his great work Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and share with the world how it's words shaped their lives.

I grew curious. What was this book and how have I never heard of it? So many had nothing but good things to say. A week later, when I was reminded, I went straight to Amazon where I found it for $3.50 ($3.99 shipping). After a few days the book was in my mailbox.

That evening I started turning the pages. I knew the story had something to do with philosophy and talked about a motorcycle trip across the country, and that was about it. What I quickly discovered is how much I needed this book.

Though I'm only about 100 pages in, Pirsig's narrator has shed light on a philosophy that is partially why I started this blog in the first place. He often compares his personal life philosophy to that of his friends on the road, using motorcycle maintenance as the prime example of their differences. The narrator believes in understanding every bit of technology on his bike so that he can make repairs on his own, while the friend, John, chooses to avoid even thinking about the maintenance and leaves that to a proper mechanic. A battle between masterful-understanding and blind-enjoyment, or at least it seems that way thus far.

I personally fall under John's perspective far too often. I live in the moment and if a hiccup happens I get frustrated instead of promptly developing a way to work around it. It's not a black and white philosophy, and I don't think Pirsig tries to sell it that way. There are plenty of times where I DO think like the narrator and work to understand what the problem is so I can fix it myself, or stop and consider why I reacted the way I did. My search for a more balanced life involves thinking with the narrators perspective more often. I want to be able to fix my bicycles on my own. I want to be able to do simple maintenance on my car more regularly. I want to edit my writing systematically and thoroughly. And I want to control my anxiety more successfully.

My hope is that this book will be the kick in the pants I need to push this goal further. After all, it couldn't be coincidence that I discovered ZAMM at this point in my life.

Cramming it All in a Weekend

This past weekend I didn't have to work at the day job. I was excited to get a full weekend off, but wanted to utilize my free time. That meant being productive in all my other interests. I wanted to ride my bike - but needed to make sure I wasn't too tired after. There was a giant writing project looming over me, and I wanted to hangout with my girlfriend and dogs between everything else.

There never seems to be enough time to accomplish everything, but I was extremely close in the last two days.

Saturday was a big day. I woke up at a reasonable hour, drank some coffee and had breakfast, then went straight to the computer to work for a while. I had until 1:15pm to work before it was time to get suited up.

I met up with a few guys for a nice long ride at 2pm. The small group made me nervous. I had yet to finish a long ride without bonking this year, but Saturday was different. Surprisingly, I felt great the whole time. I put in a lot of work at the front, the climbing legs were dancing on the pedals, and I still felt strong enough at the end to keep pushing the pace. In the middle of the week I put in some quality miles, which hadn't been happening recently. It appears the race from the previous weekend and the extra rides have boosted my fitness - an exciting discovery in the middle of the race season.

Returning home, I expected to be a zombie for the rest of the evening, but I still had some fight in me. I pushed to finish the rough draft on my project and stayed up late to do so. It was beginning to feel like a choir (23 pages), so getting the first draft done was the cherry on top of a successful day.

Sunday was all about editing. I hoped for a finished product by the end of the day. 23 pages is a lot and I like to go over important pieces 3-4 times before submitting. I didn't quite make it, but did manage to get two rounds of editing in while finding time to meet Rian for lunch and clean the apartment. I'm still editing today (Monday), but I'm starting to feel close and ready for submission. It will be so satisfying to get this article turned in.

I was impressed with my productivity, so I rewarded myself with some Karaoke at the bar down the street last night. Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground was stuck in my head all week, and I gave a flawless performance. Going out was the perfect cap to a busy weekend and it was important that I spent time with Rian, because we've both been busy with work.

Riding, writing, fun, and even some cleaning. I squeezed it all into one weekend without killing myself to do so. Finding such a good balance was more gratifying than finding my fitness or getting close to finishing my big project. All the hard work and focus is paying off.

Silverton Slugfest

Last weekend was polar opposite to the weekend before. Sunny and semi-warm. The weather had me eager to make up for my inactivity and get a race in. Unfortunately, I quickly discovered I had committed to an event well above my fitness level.

I had never been to the Silverton area before. As it turns out, there isn't a flat stretch of ground to be found. I knew the race was going to be hilly - it's partly why I chose to jump in. When the road tilts up I have a natural advantage. What was in store? - 70 miles, 4 laps on a 17.5 mile rolling loop.

Perhaps I would have had a decent race, if a handful of pro riders hadn't showed up to rip everyone's legs off.

Right from the gun the pace was hot. At the first big climb the field completely blew apart. Starting in the back, due to my comfort level in the group, meant I spent the whole ten-minute climb passing the remnants of the peloton to try and regain contact with the front group. I got pretty close in my solo effort, but was left dangling in a strong headwind. It was then that a small number of us formed the first chase group to get back on. A healthy mix of respected climbers and descenders made our group a safe bet for catching up, but the front of the race wasn't making it easy. It took about ten miles through the wind and rolling hills for us to finally regain contact, and that's when I knew I picked a bad day to race.

The second lap eased up a little, at least to start. The big climb was taken a bit more casually, but riders were still falling off from the chase effort the lap before. I attempted to move up and find a safer spot where I wouldn't yo-yo so much and waste energy. Slotting into seventh wheel, I tried to settle down. Unfortunately, the descent ensured I would find myself at the back again. Not only do I get blown around from my weight during headwind descents, but my Zipp 404's with 20mm tires were stripping away my confidence with every gust. I never really had a moment to catch my breath or eat food easily and we weren't even halfway yet. As we neared the end of the second lap we hit an easy grade section with a brutal crosswind that had the peloton guttered. I was starting to feel comfortable until the pro's at the front of the group started surging in the wind. Being at the back only exaggerated the effects and I had to use a lot of energy to hold wheels.

I made it into the third lap, but I could already feel my legs tying up. I quickly started on my second clifbar and began to pray. It did me no good. By the start of the big hill I blew up. With no power, I watched the group dance away.

We were only a few miles into the third loop and I had 12 miles back to the finish line, where I already knew a DNF was in store. Doing the fourth lap wasn't an option with how shredded my legs already felt. I caught up to another rider who was dropped shortly after me and we started riding together, trying to chat the pain away. A group of four eventually caught us and we pace-lined for a while, until even our casually paced group blew up 5 miles from the end of the lap. I tried to go with the stronger legs, but found myself caught in the middle and soloed to the line. There I waited for the field to finish. I figured they must be halfway done with the last lap by now. Seeing the finish confirmed how hard of a day it was for everyone. The pro's came in together, and everyone else was struggling to reach the line.

Overall, I was actually satisfied with my effort. Had it been a standard OBRA field I think I may have survived the third lap and at least finished the race. More so, I was happy with how hard I fought and held on being, to my knowledge, the most under-trained rider in the bunch. Of course, last year I may have been in the top ten. This year I haven't produced any steady training since October, so I can't expect to be strong.

Ultimately, I need to ride my bike more. I have been running with the dogs most of the week, but my bike rides are few and far between. My heart and lungs are strong, but my legs are not. Twenty miles of sustained power and the legs fall apart. With a few more rides than runs, maybe I can be competitive at Montinore in a few weeks. Oh, and I need to throw some wider tires on my race wheels or I'm an accident waiting to happen on Montinore's descent and tight turns.

I Didn't Go

In the last post I said I would have a race report from King's Valley. Well, I didn't go.

I can justify spending a bunch of money and getting my ass handed to me when the weather is nice and the experience is still fun. But I checked my iphone every two hours yesterday, trying to decide if the weather was going to hold up enough to make the trip. Most hardcore racers would say I was being a chicken, and I definitely was. A good sufferfest hardens you. However, the forecast was stuck on 40 and rainy. I would have survived, but I wouldn't have had fun. And at this point, fun is the only reason I'm going out there to get canned. So, I stayed home this morning.

I woke up and planned to go for a long run. That way I could at least stay a little warmer if I got dumped on, and I wouldn't need to endure it for 3+ hours. It was blue skies the entire time. Ran a good pace, and even took a KOM by two minutes. Regret set in and I started to think I made a bad call. I'm more fit than expected and the weather seemed perfect in Eugene. Then, I heard it started hailing during the bike race...

Pro's
I had a great run and saw hints of fitness
I saved about $100 total in expenses
I wasn't miserable for almost 4 hours

Con's
I'm not the badass bike racer I was last year

It All Came at Once

It's been over a week since my last post. That's a longer gap than I ever hoped to have on here. But it was for a good reason! I promise.

Last week was one of those times where too many good things happen all at once, and it turns into a stressful balancing act. For starters, it was spring break. That hasn't really been something to celebrate post college. In fact, at the current day-job, it means things get really, really busy. Everyone is off to Mexico, and I'm left walking their dogs and making sure they are given back cleaner than they were dropped off. It was one of the busiest work weeks I've had in months. Normally, I'd just muscle through, but I'm also training new staff how to groom, for when I say farewell. Things were going a little slower than usual, and I was at work longer than expected everyday. If that's all there was to it, it'd be no problemo. More hours aren't so bad. It's the additional exciting stuff that made the long day-shifts seem inescapable.

I finally got some writing work! Not just one piece to work on, but three. So, yeah, I had a lot on my plate. But I took it in stride. "This must be the real world," I thought. There were a lot of hours spent working, a few hours of sleep, and thirty minutes here and there to scarf down pizza. I didn't get much time to run or bike. But I didn't have the energy for it either. And that's OK, because all the hard work paid off. Big time. All the pieces were well received. All the training opened more time for me in the future. And all the pizza was delicious.

This week it seems like the world is trying to repay me for my efforts. On Monday, Rian and I were handed free tickets to Momma Mia. A sweet date night I couldn't normally afford. Yesterday, a day off work. Today, another big project offer, huge tips from grooming customers, and no rain.

I hope to get back to consistent posting here, and consistent riding out on the roads, but knowing all my hard work and persistence is paying off has me feeling good about where I placed my efforts and what the future could hold for me. I have a race this weekend, and it probably won't turnout any better than the last one, but I bet the write-up will rock.

Fighting the Urge

Since my last post, I've been fighting a familiar urge. When things don't go well for me, I have a strong impulse to redeem myself. It can turn into me being a sore loser. An extra round of bowling. A second chance to answer a question. So, when a bad race happens, I want to train my ass off.

A year ago I got a flat on the first lap, in my first race as a cat 2. With little experience performing a quick tire change, I lost too much ground and had to DNF. The next race, I went off the front seven miles in and stayed there until I was caught by four remaining guys about forty-five miles later, finishing fifth.

You wouldn't be wrong to say getting dropped in my first race of the season has got me wanting a little more from my fitness. However, getting there needs to be a balancing act. I went out for a 4.5 hour ride yesterday, and fell into zombie mode the rest of the evening. I can't afford to do that all the time. I don't want to do that all the time.

Some will say, "do more long rides and they won't be so hard on your body in the future." While that is partly true, I can't go from one every-so-often, to three a week. For starters, that turns me into a perma-zombie. I know from experience. Also, I can't afford to have cycling hold twelve-plus hours of my week. Six to eight sure, even with some running on the side. But twelve hours, from three rides, in a seven day week? I don't have that desire at the moment. If I can sneak in a 3-4 hour ride somewhere in the week I should feel happy. The 30 minute to 1.5 hour running/biking plan, almost everyday, has seemed to get me in pretty good shape these last three weeks. And it hasn't been leaving me too tired to write or be productive around the house. A few more weeks and I think we'll see some strength in the legs.

To keep things in check, and fight the temptation to go do another 3+ hour ride today, I took the dogs for a 30 minute run this morning. Not just the typical dog jog route along the river. But new trails. Something all three of us could enjoy exploring together. Not too long to where they were dying. Not too short or easy to where I didn't get a decent recovery effort in. The short workout not only left me feeling good for the rest of the day, but it didn't eat up half my daylight either. Now I'm writing. Later, I'll be cleaning. And who knows, maybe I'll have time to get on some things I've been putting off.

Piece of Cake?

Yesterday was my first race since October. The Piece of Cake Road Race in Hubbard, Oregon. Though the relatively flat course suited the suggestive race name, the day turned out to be anything but a "piece of cake."

Between my marathon in early October and yesterday's 66 mile race, my training has been far from consistent. Prioritizing, injury, and illness have left me out of shape and playing catch up. Meaning I was under-prepared for a race against guys who have been riding 300+ miles a week for months.

In short, I was expecting to have my butt handed to me. To ease my mind I told myself I was there for a workout and maybe a little bit of a wake-up call.

Start time was 9am. This meant an early rise to make the hour and a half drive up I-5. I've been so out of the racing mindset that I hadn't even renewed my OBRA license for 2017 - so I was thankful the group of guys I made the trip up with wanted to get there a bit early to prepare. This gave me time to register, and evaluate my bike, which dawned a new-to-me set of race wheels that I had yet to even ride through my apartment complex. Everything checked out and it became time to head to the starting corral.

It was a blue sky kind of day, rare for this time of year, but the open horizon dropped temperatures overnight and start time was a frigid 38-degrees. Knowing the temps would raise quickly over the course of the race, most riders showed up to the line in as little amount of clothing as they could get away with - shaking uncontrollably as we waited for the starter to get through the rules of the road speech. I pulled up to the line a little late and found myself at the back before the race even began. I knew it's where I was likely to stay.

The race went off and the group of 50-60 some men pushed away, clipped in, and tried to control their shaking limbs. Things heated up quickly, as they often do, and guys were jumping off the front at any opportunity. This kept the pace fast and had me sitting on the rivet even in the back of the group. Though the 13 mile circuit was flat with only a few quick bumps in the road, there were an endless thread of sharp turns to navigate, leaving the peloton strung-out for most of the race.

The last third of the loop was a section of road with no center-line. This was the easiest place for me to move up in the group and get into better position. Unfortunately, it also held a majority of the sharp turns. Being off the bike left me more than out of shape. My bike handling and comfort-level in the group lost sharpness as well. I found myself losing a wheel to draft in most of the turns and having to sprint out of the corner to catch back up. This had me yo-yoing in the early stages of the race, which was a huge waist of energy.

After gaining some confidence 2 laps in, I made a move to the front to cement my name in the worker column and drop the tag-along title I was quickly earning. Towards the end of the center-line-free section of road there was a steep little 100m climb that had been bringing the peloton to a halt every lap. I used my climbing legs to launch myself up the field. With no center-line, I sprinted along the left side of the group and comfortably tucked into the fourth or fifth slot in line. Both my teammates, Paul and Steve, were in the group, so I knew it was OK for me to take a few pulls and try and reel in a small group that was 200m up the road. I took two pulls and knew to call it quits. At this point in the race the wind had started to roll in. The move to the front and two pulls in the headwind had me gassed and I slipped back into the peloton.

This is when my time off the bike really started to screw me. I found myself towards the front of the group, finally, but staying there became a tall order. Within a half-lap, or a handful of turns, I found myself in the back. The next lap I tried to do the same move, in the same spot, but only made it about half-way up the group before deciding to tuck in. Again, an attempt to position myself better as I could feel the pace starting to crank up and the wind getting stronger. Again, I found myself sliding to the back by the end of the loop.

By the fourth lap the race was unapologetically on. Riders were slowly slipping by me and shedding from the peloton. I was last wheel, but I knew I still had strength to hang on and, hopefully, make it to the end. The group made a turn for the north side of the course. An open section of road, that now displayed a brutal crosswind. The field stretched like a slinky. I could see echelons forming up the road and I knew I was in trouble. I was still last wheel and breaks were forming. Every thirty seconds a new rider would pull out from the line, leaving a gap to be filled. It became a game of leap frog. As I'd get around the popped rider I'd sprint to reconnect. In such a crucial moment of the race, the efforts began to pile up quickly. By the end of the crosswind section I was leading a small group, trying desperately to get back on the train. The tail of the dwindling peloton was only about 50m up the road and I knew it was now or never. I surged and attempted to close the gap. My power was now depleted and my surge turned into a solo time trial effort to chase back on. I pushed all the way through the last half of the fifth lap, but by the finish line I was 200, maybe 300 meters behind and I decided it was time to call it a day.

I could have finished the last lap, it's never good to start the year with a DNF, but I shuddered at the thought of facing the crosswind one more time. I knew I received the workout and wake-up call I was asking for.