Typically, I divide my goals with the bicycle into three sections — racing, personal and charitable. Racing goals can be your typical “A”, “B” and “C” type events that you try to peak for. These goals can also be aims within the race — improvements in performance and knowledge of the sport. Personal goals are more associated with training. Working toward a certain FTP or a time up Paris Mountain. Charitable goals have normally culminated in my Ride for Mike events.

I guess I’ll do the same thing this year. One thing I know is that I need some goals in order to stay motivated. It is just up to this point, thinking of goals has made me tired.

Racing

There will be plenty of opportunities to race locally this year. It all starts with the Spring Series in mid-February. You can have some pretty serious racing under your belt by the end of March. Also in March is the Spring Cycling Extravaganza — a new two day series presented by the POA Cycling Team. As for April, I don’t know if I’ll take the trip down to Charleston for the SC crit championships this year, but the St. Francis summer series starts up locally.

May presents opportunities at the Spartanburg Regional Classic and another St. Francis race. June brings about the SC road race championship, the SC time trial championship and, yes, another St. Francis race. July could see me in Asheville again for the French Broad TT and road race. There is a St. Francis race near the end of the month as well.

The new race weekend “End of Summer Blowout” will take place in August along with the continuing St. Francis race. September brings the end of most racing — except cross — with the final St. Francis race. So, there is plenty of racing right in the general Greenville area. Throw in other races within an hour or so drive and you could nearly race twice a week or more the months March – August.

That isn’t my plan. My “A” race is going to be the SC Road Race Championship on June 9. My goal is to be as fit as I can be to be on form for a top 10 finish. I’ll use any racing up to that point as a means to reach that goal. I’m definitely not planning to explode out of the gate for the Spring Series!

Other than that, but goals will be to put a more conscious effort into watching and learning — becoming smarter. That means better skill wise, better reading moves and better at using the field to put me in the best place. This will happen by racing and watching riders I know have been in this game for a long time. The goal is to set a lesson plan for each race, focus on that one thing and grade myself at the end.

Personal

This one is simple. I want to return to my obsession with the mountain. I realize many people think this is a Don Quixote endeavor.  However, when I think back to some of my more fun periods on the bike, they include my attempts to bring my time down on that 2.2 mile stretch of road.

My goal here is simple. I want to get a personal best climbing Altamont Road. That means I have to climb it in less than 11 minutes and 24 seconds.

Charitable

Here is where I face a challenge. In the past, I have always had a clear road ahead for my goal by this time in the year. For 2012, I don’t have an “epic” ride in mind.

Originally, my goal was actually much larger. My plan was (is?) to start a new foundation — iridefor.org. Its purpose is to help others who want to be an encouragement by personally supporting people in need. Basically, it would be to provide tools and knowledge to help anyone carry out their own “Ride for Mike.”

The problem for me right now is that to make this a success, I would have needed to be much farther along in the process right now. I just don’t know if I can pull it off on the same scale for 2012 that I originally dreamed.

At the same time, if you don’t have goals, you might as well not dream. I still have a dream for iridefor.org. While I may not hit the stars this year, I don’t see why I can’t land on the moon.

So, there you go. I’ve laid it out what I’m thinking. That is another part of setting goals… you need some accountability. That is one of the main reasons for this blog.

Thanks for keeping an eye on me.

Ahhhh, pro cycling. It is a love hate relationship. I won’t get into all of the baggage here, but will just say that much of the past has left me jaded. Granted, last year seemed to be an improvement over some previous ones. Perhaps the peloton truly is casting out its demons… but like most demons, the specters won’t go quietly. I fully expect that we’ll have our share of announcements during this year.

Still, despite the times in the past where I’ve flown too close to the flames of disappointment, the first few stages that displayed on my TV screen awakened the love for the sport. I realize that if you have never competed in cycling it might be hard to understand. However, if you have ever felt the pain of riding to the edge of your endurance to advance a teammate or maintain a breakaway — not to mention the exhilaration of having that pain pay off with victory — you understand.

I’ve said it before, but that is the thing that makes the sport so intimate. Watching most other sports and you can plainly see that the ability of the participants vastly exceeds your own. I admire watching my favorite basketball player soar to a thunderous dunk. However, I’ve never experienced that feeling first-hand (except maybe the times I played on an 8ft. goal). I’ve played backyard football before, but it isn’t anything like what we saw this weekend with the AFC and NFC championship games.

Pro cycling is deceptive. “Hey,” I’ve even heard, “It’s just a bunch of grown men riding bicycles.” How many times have I been asked, “Are you ever going to ride in the Tour de France?” It is in that way that pro cycling — especially on TV — is deceptive. It is harder to tell the difference between the professional and the amateur.

Is there a difference? You betcha! The power output, the speeds, the skill, the close quarters of the peloton… they are steps above. At the same time there is a relative similarity. A top sprinter is putting out 1800+ watts going toward the line. I’m pegged at 1300 at best. Those guys would leave me like I was sitting still. However, if you were to look at our faces and attempt to judge our efforts, you couldn’t tell that much of a difference. The uninitiated would not have the same sense of awe that I would.

While I was watching Will Clarke riding to hold off the rushing peloton around Sterling I not only got caught up in the excitement of the chase, I also had an inkling of what the Tasmanian was going through. I was on that bike with him willing the break to succeed. As he rolled across the line with his limbs shaking I could empathize.

I climbed on the trainer later that day with a little more motivation than usual. Watching the pros helped awaken a little more of the desire. During one stretch on the trainer when I set a goal to hold a certain wattage for a certain period of time, Clarke came to my mind as my mind started questioning my ability to do it. I imagined myself trying to hold off the peloton and if I could just hold the wattage until that time I would be the winner!

Of course, I was reminded once again of the darker sides of cycling when Alejandro Valverde took the fifth stage. I guess that is part of the story as well. I guess we all hope for forgiveness and redemption. In a way, I’m looking for a little of that myself in 2012.

Racing on a team – and a team at the level of POA – is a great experience. When I first started racing my bike, the thought of racing on a team with regional and national championship caliber riders seemed a pipe dream. However, the door opened and though my skill level was well below that of my mates, I was wearing the red and white kit.

As a category 4 racer, I earned my keep. I remember the early part of the 2010 season with great fondness! Every race I entered I knew I had a chance to make the podium and about 75 percent of the time, I did.

The success brought a change. I was bumped up to the category 3 level. Had you asked me a year before if I would move up to that category, I would have laughed. But I found myself suiting up for my first category 3 race in May of 2010. On that day, everything changed.

I don’t dwell on it anymore, but the fact is I wrecked and broke my neck that day. Laying highly medicated in the ER, I thought I had just strained my neck and jammed some fingers. I would shake this off just like other accidents and be on my bike in no time. It wasn’t until they began to move me to a gurney to take me to get an MRI that I had a pang of pain — and of fear — strike me.

However, by September I was out of the neck brace and my broken fingers had healed as well. It was time for the 2010 Ride for Mike. I was covering 700 miles in 7 days. Though it was tough, I did it. It left me thinking that I definitely had the accident beat. Looking back, I realize I was deceived.

I came into the 2011 season ready to race in the Masters category with my team. My fitness was not at the level of 2010, but I felt that I would get back to form soon. I tried to approach the races with the same confidence as a year ago.

I couldn’t — or wouldn’t — see it then, but looking back I realize that while my neck had healed, I had lost some of the fire. Gone was the abandon to squeeze through a hole and the feeling of invincibility. I had always had a view of myself that I could bounce back from about anything. Knock me down and I would get back up. I still felt that way, but now I had a different view of the process of getting knocked down!

My neck would still grow stiff in a road race. I was living with constant pain in my hip. I was training hard and the numbers showed I was nearing 2010 form, but I was getting dropped in races. I could go with the best for a short period, but I just could not sustain it. The more I got dropped the more frustrated I became. I was a mental basket case.

I’m ashamed to say there were times that I took that frustration out on some of my teammates. I was slipping into a pool of negative feelings. By the end of the season racing — and even riding my bike — wasn’t so much fun anymore.

It was at that time I began to contemplate leaving POA. At the same time I argued with myself that I would probably regret it in 2012 when I would perhaps be out of my slump. It is true that I was beginning to find myself near the end and in my final race, I rode better than I had in a while.

In the midst of this arguing, I received an email from our manager laying out for us the expectations for the team in the next year. There was a call for commitment that I realized I could not meet. To do so would take me away from things that should be much more important in my life than racing a bike.

At the same time, I was gearing up for the 2011 Ride for Mike. In training for it, I began to discover again the joy of just riding my bike. The old challenge that used to drive me to conquer a mountain or distance reawakened.

Also, while I was training, it gave me time to turn my mind from racing back to some dreams I had put on hold while trying to move up in the racing ranks. It was somewhere out there on a bike in northern Greenville County that my commitment to my family and my dream over-weighed my desire to race. At that point, I knew it would be wrong to race with POA because I would not be able to bring to the team the commitment it deserved.

So, I let Blair and the rest of the team know that I will race unattached in 2012. I have never intended not to race. I enjoy racing, but it is going to have to fit into my life and not me fit my life around racing. Ultimately, I think it will make me a better racer.

I love the POA Team. I’m sure I could find a team out there that would take me. At this point, if I’m not racing with POA, then I’d rather race unattached.

I’m looking forward to 2012 and all the change it will bring. Who knows, things may change again in 2013. One thing I’m pretty sure of — the future will include a bicycle.

2011 Ride for Mike update: We are now at $2,240 toward our $4,500 goal! Please consider giving today at RideForMike.com/pledge.

I rummaged around for a bit trying to find my race number. Finally, I had to decide to get out of the house and just get another one when I got to the track. This put me a little later than I would have liked for warming up.

Still, it was a beautiful evening. I was glad to be back racing. It would be interesting to see how my tempo training would affect my racing.

We rolled off and immediately Blair called for a cash prime on the first lap. Settling in about mid-pack, I just tried to get used to the speeds. This was a combined field of the Masters and 1-2-3 categories. There were some fast young guys in the field!

Before long a break had formed. I could see there was no POA rider among those who were extending their lead around the track. I started to move up toward the front in hopes of helping to bring the group up to them.

As I neared the front I could see John James already starting to pull.  I slotted in and waited until John was done and moved to take his place. The gap continued to drop and I was pulling for all I was worth.

Then I started running out of steam. The field started to come up beside me and I pulled over a bit to see the status of my team mates. Then I saw Jae Bowan start to make a move over the gap. I hoped we had gotten him close enough to make it.

At that point, I started to slip back. After a couple laps I started to be able to move about in the group. I began to think about getting back up to the front to do at least one more effort to get my guys in position.

It was then I was reminded once again of why you don’t ride at the back — or why you must be patient when trying to move from the back to the front. I was trying get back up front on a straight. The problem was that the field was stretching out — meaning we were moving at a good speed. By the time I got up to the front I didn’t have anything left to make a move. I would get sucked back.

I tried that several times until I heard Blair call that there were only 6 laps left. At that point I knew the speeds would ramp up and it was time to focus on getting a finish. With three laps to go I started to feel that “I can’t close that gap” feeling, but rode through it. Finally as we went into the chicane, I eased up and rode in with some other riders who had done their work and were staying out of the fray.

Overall though, it was a good night. That is until I left. When I got home I unloaded the car and then went to upload my ride data for my coach. “Annette,” I asked my wife who had helped me unload, “Did you see my Garmin?” “No,” she replied and offered to go look in the car again knowing that I prone to look right past things. It wasn’t there.

I thought back to the evening and it hit me. I had placed the Garmin on the top of the car as I was putting the bike in the rack. “Don’t forget to get that,” I remembered thinking. Well, I went to put something else in the back of the car and must have forgotten to get it. It is now somewhere on Hwy. 101 or I-85.

Some day I will learn that I cannot change my routine. If I do, I am always bound to lose something. Funny, my Ecclesiastes Tweet for today was, “Life is full of holding on and letting go.” It is taken from chapter 3 verse 6, There is “a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away.”

Getting ready to start final 2011 Spinners' TT

While I waited, I went out on the course. Going out from the start line the wind was at my back. Tailwinds are funny. You don’t feel them. You just feel like you are flying. There is an amount of wind resistance in front of you as your power keeps you in front of the wind pushing from behind. Sometimes you don’t realize you have the assistance until you are out of it.

Then the course began to make a gradual turn to the left. At this point, I started to feel a crosswind. I could sense the gusts catching my 50c wheels. It was almost rhythmic as my bike would push right and then release just to do it over again.

The flags at the businesses along the route were standing out from the poles. I was thankful that for the most part the course was downhill as I started onto the 3M section and into a more direct headwind. I tucked as small as I could as I tried to avoid the few rough sections along the road at this point.

As I neared the turn around, I was somewhat protected by some trees that kept the crosswind to a minimum. Making that turn, I got started back. This time what had been a headwind became the tailwind helping to push me up 3M.

Once I got over the tracks I eased up to make sure I was saving something for the actual effort. The way it appeared to me, if I went out hard in the beginning I could fight my way through the wind and then have the wind to my back on the long stretch. Then it would just be a matter of suffering up the final approach to the finish.

The lesson I learned this night was that things can change and you have to be prepared to adjust on the fly.

As I waited my start, the wind had died down. The trees were no longer waving in the wind. However, I figured at that point there would still be a residue of the earlier environment.

I went off to attack the first half of the course. I felt pretty good in the first fourth of the course. My one minute man was in sight as we neared the turn onto 3M hill. I caught him on the way down.

The effects of the effort began to break through my concentration as I began to make my way up to the turn around. The rider who had started two minutes in front of me passed me going in the other direction as I started the slight climb to the cone. The pain started to knock on the door of my mind and two negative thoughts hit me… 1) I had hoped to catch my two minute lead, but it didn’t appear that I would. 2) I had misjudged where the cone would be.

I knew the cone is set up near a tree and a turn onto a service road. When I rode out earlier, the cone was not out and I made my turn at what I thought was the mark. Well, the cone was placed at least 100 meters farther up the road.

“No big deal,” I told myself. “Just ride with the pain.” I was determined that regardless of how my legs felt, I was going to keep turning them. As I made the turn I realized I was going to have to manage that for five miles.

I looked at my clock and saw that if I wanted to get the time I was aiming for, I would have to come back nearly as fast as I went out. I settled in to do the work at hand. The pain had seemed to level off and I just tried to reestablish a rhythm. I also began praying that the tailwind would be there as I started up 3M.

It wasn’t. If anything, it appeared the wind had shifted. I kept spinning and looking down at times to see that though I felt I was putting out a consistent effort, I saw the wattage dropping. It wasn’t a huge collapsing drop. It was more like a slow bleed.

I even came out of the aero position in hopes that I could stand and restart my momentum. For a bit the wattage climbed back into my target level. Then once again it began to slip away.

“Forget the computer,” I told myself. “Just ride as hard as you can.” So I did. Everything around me closed down. At this point I wasn’t even focused on the time I might get. I just wanted to finish without giving in to the feelings in my legs.

I crossed the fine feeling like I had a very bad time. To be honest, it wasn’t that great. However, it was better than I thought it was. 23:22 was the finish. Not as bad as my first attempt, but not as good as my most recent.

The top thee finishers were all under 22 minutes. The top finisher was only 2 seconds away from a sub-twenty time. I was fifth – nearly a minute slower than the fourth place rider.

Time trials are a challenge. There is strategy, power, and technique involved. To get a good time, you have to hit the mark on all three. Tonight I think I blew it with my strategy, which led to a decline in power, that then messed up my technique.

It is definitely a trial of the body and the mind. It is also a trial I want to endure and then conquer.

No stage win for George Hincapie

One of the commentators mentioned that George was creating for himself a spot in cycling history as the greatest super-domestique ever. It is hard to argue with that seeing how he has helped shepherd nine yellow jerseys onto the Champs Elysees. Armstrong credits the man with being one of his primary lieutenants, and now in this Tour his influence on the BMC team as it supported Cadel Evans was clear.

However, the role Hincapie played in the team tactics never presented for him an opportunity to turn his wheels in a threatening break. For him, no break equaled no chance for a stage win. That would have been marvelous, but admittedly not that realistic. I would have loved to have seen it.

Still, seeing the young team coming together at the conclusion of Sunday’s stage, reveals that George has helped accomplish much more than win a stage or a yellow jersey. He has helped build a team. It is a team on which it appears he will ride with again along the roads of France in 2012 when he will take yet another record with 17 starts.

No sponsor for HTC (soon to be “?”)

Then there is another American team with whom I was hoping to see some action – but not on the roads. HTC Highroad entered the Tour with a big question mark. Would they even exist at the end of the year?

I just couldn’t believe that this incredible team would go much longer without a sponsor. I even told someone that I would bet that an announcement would be made after the second rest day. I was wrong. As each day passed and the peloton moved closer to Paris things looked less and less likely.

Finally, we are hearing that something is in the works. You do wonder if it is too late. Cavendish is said to basically be packing his bags for Sky. Other members of the team are rumored to be preparing to sign contracts elsewhere. Even if Stapleton does land a sponsor (and if the rumors are true, it sound like he will – and that it will be a good one), the team won’t be what it has been.

Of course, with Highroad, what’s new? The amazing thing about the team is its ability to find success with whatever riders it has on board. It is one of the reasons why I enjoy the team. It says a lot for the organization that they are so successful. When Stapleton writes his management guru book, I’ll be buying it!

The crack of the Shack

There was some great successes for American teams in the Tour. BMC takes yellow, HTC takes green, and Garmin put all of their riders (including a DZ cutout) on the podium by winning the team classification. It was Radio Shack that took the brunt of the bad luck. I could not help but feel sorry for them.

I saw a friend comment on Facebook, “Why don’t they just give Levi a saddle bag with a spare tire and let the rest of the team go home.” It was really beginning to look that way by the end of the 3,000 kilometers. The team had to feel punch drunk by the finish.

Certainly, Chris Horner continued to add to his legend. His crash and completion of the stage while not even knowing where he was speaks of his toughness. It also speaks to the danger of the sport — not merely the crashes, but the drive of riders (and team managers) to get back on the bike no matter what.

It is there I have to give kudos to Garmin Cervello. They have a system in place that allows them to evaluate a rider when he goes down. If he cannot pass the test, he does not ride. It would be wise for other teams to follow suit.

What a Tour de France! It is hard for me to find much with which to be disappointed. If there was one thing I would have liked to have seen, it would have been more contenders available to contest for the podium. So many of them were taken out in the early accidents. Yet, even the accidents created iconic stories. What cycling fan does not now know the name Johnny Hoogerland?

Finally, was this the cleanest Tour we’ve had in recent memory? So much of the nature of the racing and the lack of positives seems to point in that direction. We won’t know much more until the tests are scrutinized. I so hope so.

I do know that as messy as it is, the sport grabs hold of you in ways others can’t. We fans are not so much drawn to the rider who climbs to Alp d’Huez breathing through his nose. We cheer on the likes of Tommy Voeckler who collapses while trying to hold the yellow jersey for one more day.

Vive le Tour!

As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, I was going to go out last night and just try to participate in the action. If I blew up, I blew up. If something good happened, then all the better. I was just determined not to do something based on what I thought people wanted me to do. I just wanted to respond to the moment.

All that kind of got turned on its head when I learned that we were not going to do a normal criterium style race. Tonight we were going to be point racing. That is something I’ve never done before.

The course was laid out in basically a four corners configuration. The field would start off just like a normal criterium race. However, the first man to cross the line at the conclusion of the race would not necessarily be the man (or woman – we had three ladies join us) who would win the event.

Every three laps there would be a sprint for points. The top four finishers for each sprint would get a declining number of points. Then on the final sprint there would be double points. The person collecting the most points would win.

I had no illusions of collecting the most points. I really wasn’t even thinking of gaining points at all. My thought was that I would try to get up into some of the sprints and steal points from other riders while allowing my stronger teammates to collect more points. That way, they would get points and I would help take points away from their competition. I figured it would all come down to that final sprint for the double points and with Darin Marhanka in the field, things looked pretty promising for our team.

In the first lap I stayed in the field just watching to see what would happen. I stayed up at the start… so that part was a success! Then it was just time to settle in to get used to the corners.

On the second lap, I started to move up around the side of the field to get to the front. If I was going to do something, I figured I had better get it out of the way while I still had the stamina.

Going down the straight heading into turn three, a rider attacked and my teammate Mark went to cover the wheel. Almost immediately, a second rider separated from the field and since I had the momentum I just kept going to jump on his wheel. By the time we reached turn four and started for the sprint line, we were all four together.

As we crossed the line, we heard the call that points would be awarded during the next lap finish. I could sense a bit of jockeying start with the riders around me. As we came out of turn two onto the straight, we got caught by the point of the field.

At that point, I hesitated. Should I go and lead a teammate toward the line or should I slot in and then pip for some points at the line? As these thoughts popped into my brain, I heard (I think it was John James) yelling, “Go! Jonathan! Go!”

Well, I didn’t think any further. I just launched into a lead out as we entered turn three. I was holding the point through the sweeping turns of three and four and then it was time to make the move to the line. I was holding a fast tempo of over 600 watts.

Slowly, I started to see a rider move up in my right peripheral vision. For what seemed like eternity, we just rode side by side toward the line. Then I saw another wheel coming up on the other side of the one next to me. It was my teammate, Mark Caskey.

As we got closer to the line I picked up my attack. It was neck and neck. I couldn’t seem to get out of my seat to get more of a punch. We hit the line in a photo finish. Really, there was hardly a tire width between the three of us. Still, I could tell that I crossed the line third. I wasn’t sure, but I felt pretty confident that Mark got the maximum points on that one.

Then I felt like I got hit with a load of bricks and they all fell into my jersey pockets. I swung wide left and watched to see who would be coming by. I thought at that point there might be some heavy hitters coming up behind me and I could slot into the field to recover. There was no field into which to mingle.

I realize now that I should have sat up and gone back in the field to recover. What I didn’t realize at that time is that I heart had just peaked at 200 bpm. For one minute I pushed out an average of 750 watts – with a peak of 1200. My heart was ticking away at an average of 189 bpm for those 60 seconds.

Pushing on gave me no opportunity to recover. By the time we reached the line again I was pedaling with stones for legs. My lower back was hurting and the power wouldn’t come.

That was pretty much the race for me. I did my best to hop back onto the rear of the field when they came around me about midway through the event. I couldn’t tell what was going on. They just rode away from me. I settled back into a pace I thought I would handle. Finally, the field caught me again with about six laps to go.

This time I was able to jump on the back and stick. I stayed there until the end. The only thing that was consuming my mind was, “Why can’t I stay with the field?!”

It seems that I can ride with the best of them for five minutes. However, I can’t seem ride with them for 40 minutes. I’ve got to figure out what it is. I’m tired of getting dropped.

Is it something physiological? Is it psychological? Do other riders face the same pile of bricks and are able to ride through it? Am I just a wimp?

Of course, I recognize that it could also be intellectual. It could be that the reason other riders are able to “be there at the finish” is because they are better at knowing when and how much to give. Maybe what I need more than anything is more education.

So, imagine my surprise when I checked the standings later in the night to find I was listed 10th. “Well, they must not have realized I was dropped and scored me wrong.” Then it hit me… It was a points race. The point I picked up on that first sprint was enough to give me a top ten finish. Weird to finish a race placed higher than people who lapped me twice!

Hey, I’ll take it!

I imagine myself being an above average racer. It isn’t that I think I’ll be up there challenging for a bunch of wins. However, I do visualize myself being a mover in breaks and a consistent top-ten finisher.

More than that, it has been my desire to “fit in” — be accepted as a player in the peloton. It really isn’t that hard to look the part. Finding my way onto the POA Cycling Team certainly didn’t detract from the perception.

The reality has been something different. After a breakout year in 2010 when it looked like I could be a force to be reckoned with, everything changed. I found myself being a non-factor in most races. I was unable to do anything significant to help advance my team. There were times when I even made mistakes that hurt my team. As for personal success, that has been quite a ways in the past.

On top of that, in 2009 I had gotten a reputation for not being able to keep my wheels on the ground. Most of that was undeserved since I was typically a victim. However, my horrendous crash in 2010 seemed to cement it.

This year I was getting quite proud of myself. I had not crashed and have been able with bike handling to avoid a number of mishaps around me. While I haven’t had the finishes that I hoped for, I at least have avoided finishing on the ground! Maybe with a clean season, I could put the reputation behind me.

Then Saturday happened. Do you know how embarrassing it is to just fall over on your bike about three feet from the start line? That, my friend, is what you call a “rookie mistake.” It was a definite punch to my ego and my melodramatic tendencies kicked in.

I slunk back to my car that Saturday hoping that I wouldn’t see any of my team mates. I told myself that the next time I showed up for a race – whenever that might be – I would participate in my Low Cadence kit instead of the POA colors. It would be my way of doing penance for bringing disrepute on the team.

It was then it hit me that I definitely was not having fun racing anymore. The reason why was because I was racing for the expectations of my imagination rather than grabbing a hold of the moment and enjoying it. Bottom line is that I have been making my success or failure WAY too important for a weekend warrior.

I’ve determined that I am going out tonight with a different mindset.  I’m not going to go there pushing myself to live up to my imagined perception of myself. My goal is to go out there and let the race come to me. I’m not going to ride to avoid mistakes. I’m going to ride to participate.

If that approach lives up to expectations, then great. If it doesn’t, then – hey – I am who I am. Somehow, I have the funny feeling that if I ride that way, I’ll have greater success than I would otherwise.

Perceptions be hanged. Just ride your bike.

You never know what waits when you pin on your number.

I was talking with a teammate who was behind me when I went down. Actually, he was there along with a couple other of my teammates. They thought that I had touched a wheel and that is what caused me to drop.

They started around me, but there was a slight gap that they had to close. “You know they said that it was neutralized until the first climb?” My teammate asked. “Yes,” I replied, “that is what I was counting on.” “Right,” he countered, “Well, they were pegging it well before they got out of town.”

He surmised that when the field saw a POA rider go down, they jumped. They wouldn’t know for sure who it was that fell and since our team had the most riders, they hoped to neutralize that advantage. So, by the time my mates caught the field on the first climb, the riders ahead of them were strung out nearly single-file.

That would explain when as fast as I was pushing it, I was never able to connect. Things never really slowed. The teammate I was talking with said that there were some winding downhills where they were hitting speeds of 47 mph. His average speed for the race was 2 mph faster than the previous race.

So, it would appear that at least in the beginning of the race, I could have inadvertently had an influence without knowing. It is funny to think that I could influence a race more by wrecking than racing! What I am glad of is that the end result still went in the favor of the POA Cycling Team.

Thomas “The Tank” Smith took the win. There was no stopping the South Carolina Masters 35+ Road Race Champion. The rest of the team was spread out among the field… with me bringing up the rear. Looks like we had it all covered.

Johnny Hoogerland is now beginning to fade from the spotlight. However, he has made his mark on the Tour (as the Tour has on him!) Sure, there was a part of me that was hoping he could recover and hold his jersey. It was another sign of the camaraderie of the peloton that he held it that extra day.

It was good to see the wrecks begin to lose their quantity and magnitude. It took a while, but it seems that the field has gotten pass those first rough days. Other than some painful looking individual and smaller wrecks, last week finally put the focus on the racing… not the crashing.

What about the racing? That is where things are pretty much the same. Will the Alps finally bring what we hoped to see in the Pyrenees?

If the favorites keep racing the way they are, I have to put my money on Cadel Evans. However, his position is tenuous. If he can cut down a few more seconds from Voeckler’s lead while holding Contador at bay, his chances look very good.

The thing is, we aren’t seeing those huge killer attacks that we have become accustomed to with Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador. We keep expecting to see it… to the point where the favorites are castigated for not doing so. As it is, they are standing toe-to-toe punching each other.

What if it is a matter that there will be no such attack? What if none of them are trying to sandbag? Could it be that we are seeing a cleaner race?

I would like to think that what has happened is that we are now seeing more of what a race should be. There are a number of men who are at the top of their form and they are evenly matched. None of them have eaten tainted beef from Spain.

Sure, we are not seeing what we have become accustomed to, but maybe we are finally seeing what we should. Perhaps we will have this nip-and-tuck battle all the way to the final time trial. Who knows, perhaps Europcar will provide the first French winner in… how long?

Still, I do hope that we see one of the favorites (or two – Andy and Frank) really try to put the hurt on their competition. Surely, Contador can’t just keep following wheels. The winner is either going to be meteoric or consistent (Cadel). Consistency is winning at the moment. It is time for meteoric to step up to the table.

My gut tells me it isn’t going to be close. I hope it is. I can’t help but think that on some mountain top in the Alps, Paris will be decided.