Changing Gears

Hanging On: Redlands Cycling Classic

Phil Gaimon is a young racer from Atlanta who dreams of making it in the professional cycling world. This spring, follow along as he travels from race to race.

Amateurs face hurdles bigger hurdles than fitness and experience at big races. The Redlands Cycling Classic hasn't started yet, but it's already been a struggle.

Redlands is a pro-only, team-only event, so amateurs can only start by invitation. This would have been an easy process if my team decided to go, because Fiordifrutta is a well-ranked amateur squad, and has done the race before. Unfortunately, none of the frozen New Englanders wanted to do a big race this early in the year, so I had to go another route.

The easy way would have been to find an amateur team that already had an invitation, so that was my first goal. However, I quickly learned that those spots are hard to come by, so I went with option #2: starting a composite team. After a few phone calls and some hard convincing, I had 6 good riders from random teams willing to give it a shot, under the name U25 Devo. I designated one of them as manager to handle the paperwork while I was on the road, and he gathered up our results into an entry application. We sent it to the promoter and crossed our fingers.

Once the application was accepted, and we all had releases from our own teams allowing us to start, it was time for logistics and fundraising. The entry fee was $1000/team, so money was tight. One of the riders had a sponsor to pay half the entry fee, and I got nice prices from Adidas for blank jerseys. The race promoters were also kind enough to find us host housing, so we have a nice place to stay with two local families.

Another concern was feeding. It's crucial to have some sort of staff to hand us bottles during the race, so I got in touch with my good friend J.C. from high school, who lives nearby in San Diego, and is willing to stand in the sun for a few days if we handle his expenses and lodging. We raced last weekend in Tucson, and made sure to take as many unclaimed bottles as we could from the feed zone after the race, since the team will probably go through 30-40 bottles at Redlands (don't worry-we bleached them).

After the manager's meeting yesterday, we had nothing to do but sit around at the host house, making sure the equipment is ready, pinning numbers on our jerseys, and generally killing time to distract us from the race. Looking back, it feels like a lot of work for the privilege of getting dropped by a bunch of pros. Hopefully it will be worth it.

Look for me in the results (it might require some scrolling). My start for the time trial is in 4 hours. I'm going to go pump my tires.

Changing Gears: Hanging On

Phil Gaimon is a young racer from Atlanta who dreams of making it in the professional cycling world. This spring, follow along as he travels from race to race.

I'm writing this from a hotel parking lot in Tucson, where the proprietors have graciously neglected to password-protect their wireless network. After a three-hour ride through the desert, I'll be back on I-10. As of now, I've driven 27 out of the 32 hours from Atlanta to San Diego, which will serve as my base for my next two big races: The Sequoia Classic and The Redlands Classic. I've still managed to train every day and stay on schedule and it hasn't been too bad.

The first day, I planned to stop on the Natchez Parkway in Mississippi to train, but it was 40 degrees and raining when I got there. It was still early, so I decided to just keep driving until conditions improved. Unfortunately, this weather system was just getting started, and the rest of my drive that day was in heavy snow. I ended up riding my trainer at a Super 8 Motel in Shreveport.

The rest of the trip was better. I stopped somewhere in central Texas for my ride on day two, and got to check out Saguaro National Park in Tucson yesterday. Today, I will ride from Tucson again (as soon as the weather gets warmer) and make it to my friend's place in San Diego this evening.

The hardest part about this journey is passing the time. I've gotten pretty creative in boredom reduction strategies over the last few days. Here are some examples of how I've distracted myself.

Strategy #1. Sprinting other vehicles for state lines, city limits, etc:
My record is 12-1 on this one, but I'm not looking forward to explaining it to a cop.

#2. Growing a beard:
On day three, I realized that a trip of this length wouldn't cultivate anything better than severe sleaze. Border patrol apparently agreed (as I learned when they searched my car), so I shaved it.

#3. Engaging in an epic battle with Daylight Savings Time:
On day one, I crossed into central time and gained an hour. On the morning of day three, Daylight Savings began. This silent and invisible force rudely snatched away my hard-earned hour, nearly leading to a missed breakfast at the Comfort Inn.

Later that morning, I valiantly fought back, retrieving my hour by blazing across the continental divide. I then entered Arizona, where daylight savings time is apparently not observed, further cushioning my lead (bravo, Arizona!). I expect some setbacks today when I leave the Grand Canyon state, but Pacific Time should prove a valuable ally against DST, and I do not expect my abbreviated nemesis to make much of a comeback.

I'm looking forward to arriving in San Diego. Next week, I'll write about the races.

Did you miss Phil's earlier blog entries? Check them out here.
Figure It Out
Looking Back To Look Ahead

Changing Gears: BikeTown Blog

Karen Kimball and her family started cycling after joining BikeTown; now she offers periodic updates us here in the Changing Gears reader blog. Read about her family's trip to the Tour of California

By Karen Kimball

The road into Solvang was wet. We were riding it rain or shine. We stood through San Luis Obispo rain showers for hours waiting for the enduring few cyclists to finish Stage 4 of the Tour of California. Making the short ride from our hotel to Solvang to see the time trials would be easy.

We put on every bit of rain gear we had and gathered a few hotel trash bags for extra coverage. Kathy refused the garbage-wear and preferred to get wet. The local shuttle was just leaving Anderson's Split Pea Soup Shop for Solvang. With tour traffic we wondered who would get there first?

We headed down the sleepy single land road into Solvang. Water splattered from our tires in all directions. A canopy of pines shaded us from the drizzles. The kids stopped for pictures at "Ostrich Land," offering Ostrich eggs for sale. I suggested delicious deviled ostrich eggs. "Those would be huge," Cameron imagined. "I wouldn't eat them," Kathy protested.

Horses at Pollyrich Farms stood quietly grazing while cyclists sped past. The horse track was empty. Farm signs dotted the highway: Wine tasting, River Edge Farm, Shoestring winery, Flag is up Farms.

There was a steady flow of traffic into town. Flashing road signs prepared traffic to detour off the main street. Team Slipstream and Team High Road trucks hurried past, as well as VIP vehicles and a foreign tour bus. Cars from Texas, Minnesota, Florida and Washington were all headed for Solvang.

I thought I smelled fresh bakery goods as soon as we came to the Solvang City limits sign. We maneuvered around spectators parking roadside and walking up the steep hill into town. There were cycling fans of all ages - a white haired man in camouflage coat, cap, two young girls in pink princess parkas, cyclists in club kits.

Time trial bikes were buzzing down the main road. Helicopters were already hovering. A band was warming up at the Gazebo. The UC Santa Barbara Cycling Club was offering free bike Valet service. We left behind "our" cherished bikes in their care surrounded by dozens of beautiful bikes.

We meandered through the Lifestyle Festival booths. We tested our speed and wattage on Herbalife bikes, looked at the latest, tasted granolas and of course Jelly Bellies. As the time trials began we headed to the start line. An announcer touted accomplishments of each rider. An official signaled the countdown. Riders shot out of the start, down the road and into the hills.

We balanced our time between the start and finish until the final 10 riders were on the road. Then we found a favored viewing spot: A downhill stretch just before the finish with a big screen showing riders out on the road. Crowds pressed against the orange fencing. Tour volunteers guided spectators in un-gated areas back to the curb. Cowbells were clanging, thunder sticks thumping. Whistles blew as Zabriskie, Larsson and Millar rode past vying for a top time. David Millar was off his saddle to the finish.

Helicopters following Levi were moving closer. Danish flags flapped in the breeze. Cameras were held high above heads for the digital moment to remember. Levi, donning the Amgen yellow jersey and bib-number 1, blasted by in a flash, leaning hard into the left turn, disappearing around the corner only seen on the big screen where we could watch the clock revealing winning time.

At First Street and Copenhagen, the crowd gathered around the podium. Fans in all directions focused on the moment. Levi, Millar, VandeVelde stepped to the podium. Levi tossed his flowers and claimed the top jersey -- a grand stage 5 finish.

Faces Of France's Velib

Users of the French free bike program talk about how it has changed their daily lives

Helen Ormieres, 62, Teacher.
"I use the Velib every day. Before I had my own bike, but these are easier. First you don't have to dig it out of the cellar so it is more practical. You just pick it up and drop it off. Now I often grab one at lunch just to run an errand, so you are freer. It's quickly entered into my way of life."

Jean-Baptiste Poncet, 25
"Some say they are heavy but I used to race and compared to the kilometers we used to ride on those thin saddles, I like the comfort and the three speeds are perfect for getting around town. I had a city bike already but it was to old and beat up to ride to work on. These are good for suits. Plus I cut my travel time in half and in the evening, when I go out with my girlfriend, I don't have to take a taxi."

Yannick Dettorre, 21, animal care taker
"I moved to Paris just two weeks ago and the Velib's are definitely the best form of transportation. I use it all the time. It's more practical than the metro and cheaper too. But you have to know a thing or two. Once I grabbed on too quickly, only to realise that the chain was off. Also you've got to know where the good stations are. It's rare that I can just drop it off in front of my apartment. Either the stations are full or empty. On the right is the rental machine where you type in your code to check out a bike."

VIDEO: How Velib Works

Chop, Cut, Pull, Repeat

Trail-building is tough work. This guy knows from experience. Read his first dispatch from the Forks Area Trail System expansion project in South Carolina.

By Jason Sumner

The birth of a trail

Guess what? Trail-building is tough. I don't mean riding a mountain bike-up-a-steep-hill tough. I mean bent-over-at-the-waist-chopping-thick-roots-out-of-the-ground tough. As a "finisher" on the Forks Area Trail System (FATS) expansion project in South Carolina, my job has been to chop, cut and sometimes pull roots out of the ground. It's dirty, hard, back-aching work. But it's also a necessity if you want trail that's not littered with derailleur-tearing objects.

Before I talk too much about finishing, let's start at the beginning. This trail expansion project, which will add about 10 miles to the current 26-mile FATS network, started in earnest back in 2003 when flags were tied to trees in the woods about 20 feet apart, marking where the new trail would eventually go.
Trimming roots

When flagging, the idea is to find cool riding lines while following the contour of the land so that the finished product won't erode away at the first sign of rain. If water doesn't drain from the backslope across the trail and down the sideslope, you'll either have big mud holes, tire-munching ruts, or both.

Five years after those flags were hung, the FATS expansion project restarted last month when volunteers used chainsaws to cut some of the corridor along those flag lines. Then starting January 28, the folks from Long Cane Trails took over, bringing in a four-person crew that will do the bulk of the remaining work. The project is scheduled for completion in early summer 2008.

The process between now and then will go something like this: After a corridor is cut along the flag lines, a Ditch Witch SK500 skid-steer is used to carve in the new trail. If you've never seen a skid-steer, think small hand-operated bulldozer with tank tracks and you're on the right track. The machine is about eight feet long, three feet tall and three feet wide. It's also fairly powerful, and is usually able to clear almost everything out of the way, save smaller roots, which just bend out of the way.
Those remaining roots are my problem. Besides gloved hands, the tools at my disposal include hedge clippers (a.k.a. loppers) and a crookneck hoe. The objective in either case is to get rid of the roots. The clippers work best when they are straight up and down, or are coming out of the sideslope. The hoe is good for chopping out bigger roots, or ones that are at an angle.
The Ditch Witch SK500
For the most part the trail is routed around trees, but once in a while you have to cut one down. The remaining stump is usually fairly easy to uproot with the skid-steer, but occasionally you have to whack away some of the underlying roots by hand to get it out of the way. When that happens, the skid-steer operator calls in one of the finishers, who uses a tool called a Pulaski to chop it out of the way. A Pulaski resembles an axe, but also has a horizontal blade called a mattock on the opposite side. It's intended as a forest fire-fighting tool where it can be used to dig and chop, but it's also indispensable for trail building.

With the stump gone, the skid-steer pushes forward, continuing with the initial incisions that will eventually yield a mountain bike trail. Behind the skid-steer, the finishers come through clipping or chopping away roots.

Finishers also use a tool called a Macleod, which is a heavy-duty rake on one side and a hoe on the other. It's used to move dirt around, and for trimming the trail's backslope. The idea is that you want a gently sloping backslope, not a sheer cliff. That allows water to flow smoothly down the hill, instead of tumbling off the backslope and creating low spots along the inside of the trail. The trail itself should also have a gentle downward slope. If not water will fill up in the middle and create mud holes.

Speaking of mud holes, it's time for the crew to head down to the local watering hole for a few beers, definitely another vital tool for the trail builder. More soon...