Well, here in Illinois we cant ride in the winter.  We don’t have an indoor mountain bike park.  What we do have though, is a state of the art training facility called Vision Quest.  Twenty-four CompuTrainers, five TVs, three treadmills, as well as all the various items needed for stretching, yoga, etc.  In the Chicago facility a current pool that triathalon swimmers can train in.

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I’ve spent hours lately looking at maps.  It’s always been a hobby but lately it’s been a substitute for real adventure.  I’ve got routes planned out for the next couple of lifetimes.  I’m hoping to be reincarnated as a mountain biker in the southern Appalachians so I can give this all another go-round.  I might focus my next life closer to VA, WV.  That area has always had a hauntingly familiar appeal.  My dream now is to ride trail from Asheville to north of Harrisonburg on a Superfly 100.  I’d mail a road bike to Harrisonburg and when I’d get up there I’d switch out and ride the road bike home on the Parkway.  I’ll do this before I die.  The local knowledge of the trails connecting here to there is key.  I’m sure there are plenty of people that have all the pieces and parts dialed but I haven’t talked to anyone who has connected all the dots.  I fall to sleep most nights looking at the maps.  I hope to do a couple of Chris Scott’s races this summer that will flesh out some of the trail that I have yet to ride.  The Dragon’s tail north of Blacksburg, and the Iron Mountain 100k in Trail Town Va are on the list of hopeful stops.  Adventure in the 21st century.  It’s not like you’re exploring uncharted territory but you’re making linkups.  Connecting one groups intricate network to the next.  The wilderness is also in constant renewal, although it may see enough visits to wear the beautiful mark of a trail it is still wild and new to every unique visitor.  Often the imagination has a way of romanticizing everything beyond the reality, but when it comes to riding trails like these, the reality is well beyond the imagination.  When this snow melts off and the trails harden up and the sticks get thrown off and this new job gets started up, it’s going to be on, once again.

a picture worth million words

While in Guatemala last month I had the pleasure of taking the inaugural ride on a monumental trail project less than an hour from Antigua. On the backside of Volcano Agua. The Trails are part of an upscale resort community located on the site of an old coffee plantation. The developers have a grand vision for an eco-tourist oriented resort. Trails will eventually cover much of the old plantation and many of them will be mountain bike specific.  The developers purchased a sweco and a ditch-witch for use on site and hired North Carolina’s own Long Cane Trails to begin work on the project. I was lucky enough to ride the first six miles of flowy bermed out twisty singletrack. The construction is top notch with dozens of local Guatemalans working every day on the trails in addition to the machines. The real treat is the combination of fun, high quality, well built trail with amazing lush jungle scenery, volcanic soil and the added bonus of incredible views. The other treat was seeing the incredible rock crib wall work that allowed trail construction on ridiculously steep side hill. The trail repeatedly encounters deep and steep ravines that were created from old lava flow. The plan is to install several cabled suspension bridges across these ravines. When finished the project will represent a world class trail system in a uniquely beautiful setting with amazing trails and views. The only catch, the trails are built on land that was held by guerrillas during most of the 30 year civil war, as a result the trail care crews have already found several unexploded land mines!

But I want to be one.

Most reasonable folks out there would disagree with that statement, but the truth is I’ve never thought of myself as a real cyclist. Like a teenage girl aspiring impossibly for the perfect magazine-induced body image, I’ve always seen myself working, a bit deluded, to become the cyclist I see in my mind.

Mother Nature didn’t grant me the whippet thin, T-rex physique of a pro cyclist - the kind you see on Chris Horner or Levi or Adam Craig – thin shoulders, waif-like arms, thick quads, lean as a greyhound. I started this journey with my former collegiate strong safety, 5′ 10″, 205lb frame fully intact - great for bench presses and smashing into running backs and running 10 yards very quickly, but not for long hours in the saddle and especially not for hanging with the fast guys when the trail turns up.

I showed up for my first mtb race with tennis shoes & god-awful gold helmet & aqua green jersey on. As bad as I looked, my bike was worse. I was horrible, but finished about mid-pack in a 7 or 8 mile TT. My lungs felt like they were bleeding, and I was hooked. From that moment on I wanted to be a cyclist.

Along the way something happened. My 205 lbs dwindled to 195, then to 180. My round shoulders became sharper, and my neck that had given away the former wrestler in me thinned. My quads became denser, stronger & leaner.

The last year was tough for me personally. But I found refuge & solace in riding, in the camaraderie of my cycling friends & the positive vibes found in this community. My weight dropped below 170lbs for the first time since my sophomore year of high school. My riding continued to get stronger and my results showed it.

Yet I still feel like the odd man out. I have this conversation in my head often: “You don’t belong with these guys. You’re not the real deal. You’ve got a job and kids and you don’t have the time to keep up. You don’t have the natural gifts. It’ll never happen.” So I put my head down & ride. And I dig a little deeper than the last time.

I know I’ll never ride the Tour, the Olympics, never beat JHK in a race, but I’m good with that. If I were a real cyclist, what would I have to give up? No more post race beers, staying up late, state fair pork chops, dark chocolate or racing when & where I want. No more group rides with buddies. No more weekend gravel excursions that leave me completely spent and covered in dust. No more leisurely rides with my 3 sons that are the highlight of my day/week/year. This is where it’s at. Right here & now.

I am not a cyclist, but I want to be one. And I’ll keep my head down and ride, and hope that it never happens…

What does Moab, Arrowhead, and my ride this last Sunday have in common? They were all cut short with severe breathing problems. A trip to the small, but local Mayo Clinic got me pointing in the right direction. According to Dr. Scanlon (a seasoned cyclist himself), I have borderline full blown ashma. Technically though, I have exercise induced ashma. Three prescriptions later and I have a lot of optimism. One inhaler for shorter events and attacks, one for longer lasting effects for endurance races, and one to use twice a day for several weeks to get my lungs settled down and acting properly. The latter can be used later as needed as well.

The testing is humbling as I could not breath even though I had been doing nothing but sitting for the previous hour.

He even offered to write me a Therapeutic Use Exemption for WADA. That would be pretty sweet if I ever actually need it, but then I would need to stop the EPO and HGH cycles.

Well, now you should join your working buddies in the daily grind again.