game on at gloucester

It’s 5 a.m. and jet lag has me wide awake. It’s Sunday; the Sunday after the first day of Gloucester. Did I really see Lyne Bessette’s Paralympic gold medal yesterday? My stomach rumbled and I could still smell the giant bowl of rice Tim and Jamey were diving into after their race, inside a Cannondale team truck packed with about 10 frames of varying sizes. I remember running and nearly tripping over blue Shimano tape marking the race course with Chandler, his video camera in one hand. Didn’t we all last hang out and do the same kind of thing in Tokyo? But we were in Boston – er, Gloucester, this time, right?

The past few days have been surreal to say the least. One moment I was at Haneda airport in Tokyo at 5.00am. Next, I was in NYC Velo and it felt like I’d never left. Less than 24 hours later, I was in Boston, feeling like the nameless narrator in Fight Club, just as he’s on the cusp of fabricating Tyler Durden, his brain going a little haywire on too much Starbucks, travel and Dunkin coffee. Did I make this all up? Did I actually see Ryan Trebon smile, at me, in real life? [me: are you going to introduce me to Ryan “Dreamy” Trebon? Tim: …he’s too tall for you.]

The commuter rail receipt in my back pocket claims otherwise, but it could all be in my head. After taking the usual Chinatown bus up to Boston and spending the night watching “Lost in Translation” with Jeremy B. and Carrie, I jumped on the commuter rail to Gloucester. One of the biggest UCI races on the East Coast, Gloucester was the first cross race I watched back in 2009. I heard Richard Fries yell into the mic as Tim Johnson took the win that year, and hardly knew whom either of them were.
Since then, my knowledge of cross has progressed to a value greater than zero, but still less than one. Most of what I know can be condensed into what I’ve mentally fabricated as an appropriate slogan for cross: “Masochists who like to get dirty, unite.”

I’ve clearly yet to dip a cleated toe into the slippery mud of a run-up, but there’s nothing like a great cross race to make me want to ditch smooth pavement and banked corners in favor of mud, rain, and barriers. And the Gran Prix of Gloucester – two days of quality racing on a huge course that seems to stretch and weave its way across the entire length of Stage Fort Park – is one of the most entertaining cross races you can watch on the East Coast. Lucky coincidence had me arriving in NYC three days before this particular race, with more than a few friends racing. As an added bonus, heavy rain on Friday ensured the course would be slick and slippery on Saturday. Perfect weather for cross spectating.

Lucky coincidence also had me running into Tim [Johnson] just as I arrived at the course. He gave me directions to the Cannondale tent, among the multitude of team tents pitched in the parking lot and all along the paved road leading to the uphill finish. Dozens of bikes and wheels leaned against SUVs and team vans. Cowbells clanged as racers spun by and I shouted at Jeremy Jo, who smiled at me in surprised recognition. And then I saw a Paralympic gold medal.

Shown to me by Chan’s wife, Jenny, as I met her and Lyne, it looks incredible. I’m still not sure I actually saw it, and that I was less than a foot away from it. It was a surreal start to the day and was a sign of good things to come. After unloading gifts, I watched Tim warm up, bumped into Jamey Driscoll looking super cute with longer hair, yelled at Andrea Smith as she sprinted past in the Elite Women’s race, and was once again lucky enough to shake hands with some great people giving good advice.

Because as the Elite Men’s field lined up, Jim [of Giro] told me to “get up to the front, don’t be shy.” It defined the next hour, as I ran after Chan and Pat, slipping, ducking, and jumping around the course to the best spots to get pictures of the race. We yelled and cheered on the men in green, and laughed at the heckling. Waves of cheering erupted as Tim rode past, in hot pursuit of Jpow as Dylan McNicholas of Team Cyclocross.com hung tight with Jesse Anthony. I clapped and cheered and ran. I had the time of my life.

Tim came in a solid 3rd with Ryan Trebon coming in 2nd after Jpow. After the awards ceremony, I ended up crawling through a space in the mostly enclosed Cannondale tent and climbing inside the team truck to say goodbye and secure promises of a reunion in Tokyo. It only sunk it later exactly how much fun I’d had. So much so that racing cross – even as the personification of an American muscle car [low to the ground, only good at going in a straight line] – began to seem like a very good idea. Because, you know, I can totally learn how to turn…at speed…in mud. Totally.

I’ll be heading back to Tokyo too soon with lazy legs and a scary obligation to practice turning. I’ll miss Richard Fries’ voice and the smell of mud and cyclocross. The pitch of cowbells and the uniquely American practice of heckling. But most of all, I’ll miss the friends who keep gently – but insistently – enabling [and encouraging] my entrance into a world of barriers, run-ups, and other super hard shit. Spectacular face-plants, here I come.
And, Tim, Chan, Jamey, Ryan and everyone else at Cannondale – I’ll see you in February, with high five hugs.
[Lots 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.]