It's Friday!

Even though I try to make an effort to get out and ski or get some other form of outdoor exercise at least a few times a week mid-week, nothing quite beats the weekend. Psyched for another couple of days of looking at a topo map and playing the, "I wonder what the skiing's like if I can get there" game - because sometimes you find spots like this:

Poetry and Racing

Today was a day when even fun training, i.e. skiing, felt a little tough. Another 5:30am wake up to ski before work felt like one too many. I was sweating crap out of my body the whole hike up, breathing very poorly (love ya asthma), and an ongoing foot vs. ski boot battle had my right arch in flames for most of the morning.
But then I looked back over my shoulder. A North Carolina esque blue fog hung low but translucent over the spine of the Green Mountains, a slight breeze picked up, and I had to smile. I was reminded of a Mary Oliver poem:

The snow
began here
this morning and all day
continued, its white
rhetoric everywhere
calling us back to why, how,
whence such beauty and what
the meaning; such
an oracular fever! flowing
past windows, an energy it seemed
would never ebb, never settle
less than lovely! and only now,
deep into night,
it has finally ended.
The silence
is immense,
and the heavens still hold
a million candles, nowhere
the familiar things:
stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect
and nightly turn from. Trees
glitter like castles
of ribbons, the broad fields
smolder with light, a passing
creekbed lies
heaped with shining hills;
and though the questions
that have assailed us all day
remain — not a single
answer has been found –
walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.

For me at least, training and racing is about a whole lot more than fitness, or results, or being competitive, or getting sponsored. It's about something that I think can really be expressed only through poetry, something Oliver gets at in that poem.

Birches!

A blast of cold air held through the day today, keeping the powder firm and making even the steepest chutes a blast to ski. We found some awesome yellow birches up high and pointed 'em home in time for the sunset.

Somewhere in Vermont

World class skiing in the Greens right now...I mean...Vermont doesn't get powder, and I'm moving to Utah tomorrow.

Can anyone else think of a better way to train for the mountain bike season than hiking for turns like these? Don't think I can.

Thoughts for Carla

Many others have said this too, but the cycling world suffered a huge loss recently. All of us in the collegiate cycling world were extraordinarily privileged to get to watch Carla Swart race. She was an incredibly inspiring person and competitor.

http://velonews.competitor.com/2011/01/news/carla-swart-killed-in-south-africa_156025

Work, Racing, and Training

I've got two conflicting thoughts going through my head right now. One comes from planning out an ultra-endurance race schedule and looking at maps/elevation profiles - it's this voice screaming, "you have to train, now." Those races are hard, hard, hard, there's just no way around it. They push you, break you down, change you. In many ways they kind of terrify me. Sometimes I wonder why I sign up at all, even though I couldn't imagine not doing them. So, I'm feeling some pressure to get in shape.
But the other side of me says this: you're working full time and it's snowy outside, how effective is training going to be? AND, you were burned out and feeling like ashes by the end of August last year, and that is a solid month before the Pisgah Stage race. So chill already.
Truth be told, I think the second voice is the smarter one. There aren't a whole lot of young guys in the ultra endurance scene, and many of us routinely get smoked by guys 10 years older than us. Which makes sense. I don't have nearly as many cumulative miles in me as they do.
It seems like traditionally, the path to endurance racing runs through short course NORBA style stuff. So I see it as kind of an experiment to go straight to longer stuff.
My conclusion, at least for now, is that a shorter season might be a stronger season. It seems like it might be worth a try at least. I'll start riding as the snow melts, plan to be in peak form by the end of June/July, chill and recover, and then go for peak number two in September. Sounds pretty scientific eh? Well, it is and it isn't. That's about two months behind what I've done the last couple of years. I typically start intervals in March, so that means I'm looking at mid-April at the earliest for those, and no big volume until the end of March at the earliest.
There are lots of schools of thought on this sort of thing. I've seen interviews with Ryan Trebon where he mentions that he thinks it's silly for pro racers not to race all year. I'm sure that works for some folks. I think having another job adds one element, and I think being a relatively young racer adds another. It's a fine line between pushing to your full potential and burning out.
For me the key has been to think independently and fine tune each year based on my work schedule and past experience. I have a few folks that I talk to but no formal coach. Will this year's plan work out? Hard to say, but the bottom line is that if you spend a bunch of time riding your bike you're going to ride pretty fast. And if your head is in the game and you're having fun, you'll go exponentially faster.

Amazing Snow!

Just too fun out there right now. Lots coming together on the bike front, lots to think and blog about there, but right now snow is front and center in my brain. It's light, fluffy, and liable to blow over your head, just watch the rocks. A few images from the day:

A guest post, race season planning tips, and more on balancing work and training coming soon.

Skiing Shots

Some beautiful fluffy snow is falling in VT right now. The skiing is still a little sketchy, but hey, sketchy can be really fun.

VT Backcountry Video

It was spring outside on the 31st in Vermont!

Happy New Year everyone.