saving fitness

In any good action movie, some lesser spy, when captured, will grind his teeth into a hidden capsule of instant death upon capture.
“Ha ha ha ha, you will DIE! You cannot stop us!!!” He laughs at the hero through his clenched teeth while foam bubbles up from a corner of his mouth.
It’s a scene that plays through my head when events convene to remind me of the importance of being delusionally optimistic. Things like empty bank accounts, too few days off, and a crash might have happened for a reason, I like to tell myself. Some cosmic purpose other than to make my own mouth froth in jealousy at the sight of bike commuters or roadies headed out on weekend rides. There must be, I’ve internally claimed, life points gained in the purgatory of injury and the special hell of lost fitness that follows. It’s optimism born of desperation, but sometimes fish oil and vitamin D isn’t enough to keep me on the right side of hopelessness.

Unfortunately, that uncharacteristic cup half full mentality which had made itself quite comfortable on the figurative couch of my psyche, had just about overstayed its welcome. Negativity was trying to kick it to the curb. Dropping temperatures and shorter days weren’t helping the slow, inevitable march into a winter promising an exploding waistline and weaker legs. By mid-November, I knew that my version of “taking it easy” was simply a justification to watch more TV. The worst part was that I was starting to not give a shit about not really giving a shit.
It was paralysis by not-so-much analysis. My tempo speed of the past summer is decidedly no longer extant, and my heart rate tends to skyrocket on anything more demanding than quick, easy spins on the trainer. Hills? Mountain passes? Sprints? Call me [next summer], maybe.

Pathetically, I even had the audacity to feel sorry for myself. As if a crash that had happened two months ago was keeping me from spinning something harder than my little ring. I was no longer trying to do that thing where I try to stay on the trainer for as long as I could possibly stand. I skipped out on a few days of scheduled riding, for no reason other than because it was just easier not to.
The problem is, no matter how much easier it is to let some more evil force destroy the world, we all identify with the hero. You know, the fight against certain evil, success against all odds, the shadow of the phoenix that can rise from your coach, dust off the cookie crumbs, and snap off the TV to go ride for once. It’s harder to do – because holy hell is TV entertaining – but the dividends promised are at least more physically appealing than a fluffy butt and a blubbery belly.

The fun thing with regressing, I’ve been telling myself, is that there is no way but up. You really have no choice but to give it your all, even if it feels like your body is trying to kill you in the process. I gave myself heartburn and a leg-beating so bad I saw spots in the last two minutes of a semi-sprint up a small mountain pass last weekend. I tried to keep lemon-lime Nuun water down while spitting up thick saliva at the top. I could barely function on the way home.
It’s the spoiler to the terribly unattractive way in which I’ll be training this winter. Snot will fly, drool will dribble everywhere, and I expect to be generally useless after any substantial ride. But hey, though I’ve often wished otherwise, I’m no superhero; and no one ever said saving a cardiovascular system was going to be easy.

the red bull mini drome!

It’s been all ‘cross, ‘cross, ‘cross around here lately but I got a refreshing taste of my first love, track, last Friday. With Austin Horse in town for a race on dirt and on the first Red Bull Mini Drome event held in Tokyo, it promised – and delivered – on good times.

Nearly 100 racers spun around the tiny velodrome – some flying off and making for great entertainment – in the first round of time trials, before progressing to the pursuit event. Austin flew around the track, making great time…until his front wheel nosed itself off the edge. With three more laps to go, he was unfortunately out of the second round of sprints. The crowd cheered regardless, and the press of people became nearly suffocating as we reached the final pursuit matches. Messengers progressed through the round robin to their friends yelling encouragement, as Red Bull girls – ever present – handed out gratuitous bullets of caffeine. I stood on tiptoes to catch a better view, but without much luck. The pictures I managed to take don’t do the event justice; I swear, it was way more amazing than my camera shots look.

Thanks to Ai and Arnie of Red Bull for putting on such an awesome event!!! And hopefully see you guys again soon!
[More pictures here.]

two bonsai girls and a few exceptional [rapha] gentlemen

I would have at least shaved my legs.
I would have at least shaved my legs, attempted to look a bit less tired, and washed my bike. I would have made some effort to seem more pro.
The thing was, it was supposed to be a chilled-out ride. Natsuki-san and I had made plans to do an easy ride up Onekan on Sunday [the rest of the Bonsai team were headed to Nagano for a monstrous ride], and I figured that despite being bloated and about 30 seconds away from getting my period, it would force me out the door and onto my bike. I mean, this was the bike ride equivalent of hanging out on a friend's couch, watching movies, and talking about boys while eating too many cookies, not dressing up and going out to be looked at by boys.

How wrong I was.
When I rolled into our meeting spot, I was informed that we were meeting people. It took a few seconds to sink in.
"So at the Rapha pop-up shop yesterday, I mentioned we were going to ride together, and then Ichifuru-san said he wanted to come, too, and then some other people said they might come..."
"Oh, okay, cool."
It took an hour to sort of sink in. At the convenience store meet-up spot, we coasted in and found the talented Yuji Yamada waiting for us, in full Rapha and a Superb cap. I assumed he was "some other people," but Natsuki-san was busy texting. "Yano-san said he just got up, I'm not sure what that means," she said.

Yano-san? The [No-No-] Notorious Y-N-O of Rapha Japan?
I'd actually met Daisuke Yano of Yastugatake Bicycle Studio and Rapha Japan back in February. Super chilled out and totally cool, he had been nice enough to invite me on a ride around Tokyo with TJ, which unfortunately got rained out. A little intimidated by the idea of actually riding with him, though, I had a casual hope that maybe "I just got up," meant "nah, I'm not going to make it this time."
I was totally wrong again. He rolled up with Ichifuru-san on a borrowed IF, both of them in Yatsugatake-Rapha gear. Everyone was impossibly slim and decked in Rapha. Natsuki-san and I had on Bonsai jerseys. I also had on Assos. FML.

It’s a sign of a good ride to come, and good riders, when things silently fall into place. Sandwiched between the Rapha [gentle]men, Natsuki-san and I surged up 10% climbs that topped out at 14, 15, and finally 18%. Through secluded roads too narrow to zig-zag up [trust me, when I hit that 18% wall, I really tried], the guys shimmy-ed up the inclines like they were 2% grades, while I grunted with effort like a constipated rhino.
The realization that it must have been incredibly easy for everyone else only came much later. Because these guys are strong. Given their Rapha affiliation, that shouldn't come as a surprise, but it's a strength that is, for lack of a better term, comfortable. Unasked, someone was always playing sag wagon by bringing up the rear, with none of the impatience that lets you know that a charity ride is exactly that. For the first time since flying back to Tokyo with a couple bikes in tow, I didn’t feel guilty riding with exceptionally strong, skilled cyclists.

As awesome as the riding was, I was more than ready to fill up on carbs and coffee by the time we pulled into the usual Starbucks. For some reason, at this point in time, I was caught on camera giving The Notorious YNO a look of horrified disgust. I honestly can’t remember what we were talking about, but this is possibly the best picture of me, ever.

And because Rapha was involved, it started to pour on the way back. Sucking a wheel felt like taking a shower, and my shoes became little bags of water. We beasted through, and despite the discomfort, I realized I hadn’t gotten this drenched on a ride in a long time. It actually felt kind of good.

The rain conveniently let up as we came back to the convenience store we had assembled at that morning. We said our thank yous and our goodbyes, and rolled our separate ways. Natsuki-san and I ended up spinning through downtown Tokyo to check out the Rapha weekend pop-up in our still-wet chamois shorts before heading home, tired but happy. It was one of the more unexpected of days, and definitely an amazing one.
I’m hoping that sometime soon, we’ll get to do it all over again.
[Big thanks to everyone that came out on Sunday! More pictures courtesy of Ichifuru-san, here.]

a cannondale connection

By lucky chance, last Wednesday, I was invited to Cannondale Japan’s trade show by the president of Cannondale Japan, Mario Stein.

I did the typical song and dance in response: enthusiastically say yes, freak out over what to wear [me: WHAT DO I WEAR? Josh: Assos], spin out my nerves on the rollers that morning, and jog/walk from the train station to the gallery space to make it there only 2 minutes late. Once at the trade show, Mario was kind enough to take time out of his schedule to show me their entire line up: from their adorable kid’s bikes to their huge range of women’s specific bikes to the awesome Evo.
The first thing that struck me on entering the space was the variety of choices. Cannondale hasn’t compromised on quality [for example, they use the same welding technology for their kid’s bikes as for their normal, adult-sized bikes], but manages to offer a range of options. Bad Boy commuter bikes [the first bike to ever be designed to be completely black] come with full suspension forks or Cannondale’s iconic Lefty fork, and a CAAD 8 will be offered with flat bars for the Japanese [commuter] market. Hooligans – small-wheeled bikes that, despite the mini-bike craze here in Japan, were designed in Zurich to handle everything from cobblestones to tram tracks – come in bright, candy colored paint schemes with flat bars or, new for 2013, drop bars.

“And these,” Mario said, as he gestured towards a long row of bikes, “are our women’s bikes.”

From the women’s specific Tango 29er to the SuperSix, there was a lot to see. We talked frame weight [the SuperSix weighs in at 800g], parts, shorter stems, wheelbase lengths, and toe overlap. Unlike some bicycle manufacturers, Cannondale hasn’t just taken bigger frames and shrunk the seat tube down; they’ve taken care to change the tubing and tune each bike for every size. That means that compromises aren’t made in the process, which is an awesome thing when you ride a 44cm. The only disappointment: the women’s specific SuperSix Evo unfortunately won’t be available in Japan next year.
And with a commitment to quality also comes comfort. “Save mico-suspension technology” helps to smooth out the ride in the Slice and in the world’s lightest bike, the Evo. Corners can be taken aggressively, and descents can be handled with more speed. I know words don’t give much context, but there’s something to be said for Sagan’s performance at the Tour de Suisse prologue, where he bombed a Slice to a stage win without touching his brakes.

And then there is, of course, the Evo. At 675g, the frame is the world’s lightest, and the often-talked-about matte black Evo, complete [though without pedals], weighs in at around 5kg. Yes, 5kg. I could tell you all the usual things, like how it feels like air, and how it’s so "not UCI-legal" light. But given that a 7kg bike can be considered light, let me just say this: I can probably bust out 10 reps of one-arm curls with this bike and not even break a sweat. And remember, we’re talking a complete bike here, not just a frame.

But the Evo is admittedly pricey, and for those looking for something more affordable, Cannondale offers the CAAD 10. An aluminum frame built using the same technology as the Evo, and thus offering a ride quality that’s similar to its carbon counterpart, it’s the race favorite of competitive cyclists around the world, and Japan is no exception. I even ran into one this weekend, in eye-catching Cannondale-Liquigas colors.

My first time at a trade show here in Japan, it was a great experience to talk with Mario and get the details on Cannondale’s 2013 line. Being able to see the matte black Evo, as well as their entire range of women’s bikes, was hands-down amazing. I left the trade show high on bikes, and fantasizing about squeezing more of them – the pink Hooligan for my commute, the Super Six as a race rig… – into my life.
Thank you again, Mario!
[A couple more shots here.]

a [missed] race, a bike, and a good day

Unfortunately, family business kept me from attempting the Rapha Japan Koshin Gentlemen's Race this past Saturday, but what are Tweets, Instagram, and Flickr for, than to keep me riding vicariously?
My light ride on Sunday was nothing in comparison, but when my heavy quads and steel frame can dust a carbon fiber Wilier frame loaded with Lightweights up a hill...

God, it feels good.
Even managed to get a bit drenched on the way home.

Days like these are the best!