Circular motion

By Alec Duxbury

I have spent and will continue to spend hours and hours grooming my pedal stroke on a bicycle. The mechanical act of turning the pedals is a simple one, but the desire I have to make that mechanical act as smooth, round, and efficient as possible has occupied me for much of my life. It’s not that I think so much in terms that a smooth, round pedal stroke will get me from point A to point B with efficiency; it is more that I want that pedal stroke to be smooth and round for its own sake. Most of the time, I do not use my bicycle as a tool of transportation. I don’t use it to get anywhere. I go places on it (sometimes these rides are practical, but most of the time I ride my bicycle simply for its own sake), but my destination is always home. I use it as a tool to gain mental and physical fitness and health, and I use it as a tool for competition. I get these uses out of my bicycle by turning perfect circles with my feet. The motion I make with my feet mirrors the layout of every one of my rides: I leave from my home and return to it again.
All rides end where they begin. The true destination of all travel is to return home again. The physical nature of the globe dictates that if one walked away from one’s home and kept at it, one would return home with out ever having turned around. My feet pedal perfect circles and the cycle of the school year begins anew. What had ended has now begun in a progression that is seamless and round. As a high school English teacher, my life is governed by this cycle, and it is reflected in my pedal stroke, in the rides I take, in growing a year older every July 15th, in the birth of my children, and in the celebration of the anniversary of my marriage.
John Donne wrote in his poem, “A Valediction Forbidding Mourning”, where a dying (or departing, depends on how you want to read it) man speaks to his spouse: “you draw my circle just, and make me end where I begun.” I pedal perfect circles with my feet, and I find that motion at the core of my life’s meaning. If I can pedal a good circle, I can “draw my circle just.” In this light there is no difference between my pedal stroke, myself, and the circular patterns in my life. In my effort to pedal quality circles, I go away, and I come back. I read literature, and I extend my understanding of its meaning back over my intellectual experience and beyond it. I read the same literature again, and I find that intellectual circle I followed the last time did not extend quite far enough and I redraw it. I often do the redrawing while I am pedaling circles. I leave, and I come back. I was born, and I will die. My life is built upon the principles and balance of forces that produce circular motion.

Wenatchee Omnium

Wenatchee, what a place. These are the three race reports from this hot weekend. The TT report was written by Jamie, the crit report by me (Galen) and the Raod race by Ian.

The TT:

A report for a TT?

The starter said "5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO!"

I went.

It was hard.

I turned around a cone

It was still hard.

I went fast, but not fast enough.

I took 6th place.

The Crit:

One of the nice things about having a crit at 8:15 is that by that time the heat of the day had settled to a pleasant 70 degrees. What did not improve was the humidity or lack thereof in the air. While warming up talking to JOD, my voice started to sound like Tom Waits after a long whisky and cigarette binge. A little water helped but once the race started there was no keeping the throat dry. I heard one rider compare it to breathing hay.

Attending from Gin Optics were Jamie, Ian, Colin, JOD, Tyler and I (Galen) to take on the best of the northwest including Ian McKissic (BMC pro team), Will Routley (Jelly Belly pro team), and a bunch of Canadian pro teams. As the race began, Ian and Colin went straight to the front and covered a few early moves. A few others moved up to keep track of what was happening up there. As they were reeled in I followed a counter. As we were caught another few launched. I sat up and Jamie throttled himself forward to complete a good looking group of four that put in a 15+ second gap. These four stayed off for 20 or so mintues, as riders from the pack attempted bridges and I rode to the front and coasted through corners.

At one point I saw Will Routley jump on the right. I attacked on the left side. Just a few moments too late, I was not able to catch his wheel as he bridged up to the four. Seeing double and breathing straw I did not make the gap. But a few more attacks brought the pack within striking range and a few more bridged up. Then a few more. Finally the front group was about 12 guys with riders attacking off the front. It was clear that this would be the pack split. Ian and I were able to clear the gap, I don’t know that anyone else was.

From here on out it was kind of a blur. I know Ian was robbed for a prime by a little more than a tire’s width. With two laps to go I was feeling like toasted, straw breathing dog crap but somehow I was able to move up to the front where Jamie was sitting third wheel. I figured I would see if I could set up a lead out for our GC guy.

At a lap and a half to go an H&R block rider attacked with David Richter on his wheel. I moved to cover but a red truck rider got in between Jamie and I. At one lap to go sitting at the front of the pack, the smart thing for me to do would have been to abandon any leadout attempt and look for my own finish and let Jamie ride someone else’s wheel to the finish. But insecure and unsure, like a confused, straw breathing child I attempted to let a few riders pass me and find Jamie for the leadout. This, of course only created a mess with guys going around me with Jamie on one’s wheel and me getting gobbled up by the pack throttling towards the finish.

I would end up boxing in Ian as Jamie rode through the cluster to take 5th. Apparently it is possible to ride your brain stupid. Looking forward to racing Seward park against team Rubicon and the Lenovo ‘B’ squad.

The Road Race:


Coming into Sunday, we had already witnessed Jamie's strong TT and Crit race and the overall wave of competition not only from Washington, but from Canada. Kenny sat in first overall, with McKissick lurking close behind. The boys were gearing up for a race in 90 degree heat that promised a healthy dose of suffering.

Frustrated by my ability to do anything more than skunk myself in the crit, I was out for a little sweet revenge on Sunday. As a big man, I've little natural affinity for climbs. I usually eat shit on them. One or two accelerations and I'm gone. Ping!

In light of the nasty climb, Sunday's game plan was to get J.O.D. into the traditional break that starts from the gun. I didn't say it at the time, but I was also game to get into the break, too, knowing that I could take some heat off Jamie and maybe get over the climb once in the field. So I lurked at the front and when J.O.D.'s first break attempt didn't catch on, I countered with Hone and Kyle Lobisser and gaggle of Canucks. Despite having two loathsome juniors, including the squirrel from Walla Walla, we got a smooth rhythm going. With no real chase from the pack, we started getting positive information on the time gap going up and up. I was feeling good and ready for the climb when we heard we had 3 minutes on the field. Hone gave me a chesire grin as he proclaimed the virtues of his 27. I had a 25 that wasn't functional, so 23 it was.

At the base of the climb, a small dude named Sebastian started pushing the pace, drawing scornful yells from the other Canadians. The dude was strong! He was apparently just back from Colombia and was quickly off the front with some other Canadian dude that had been in Eastern Europe racing. This might have had something to do with their speed...

I hung back with about 6 other guys and we plodded along until one H&R Block guy decided to join the two leaders. I was not in a place to join them, so rode tempo up to the feed zone where the lovely Jessie was outfitted with her Gentle Lovers kit and plenty o' ice cold juice bottles. Feedtastic. We made it up towards the top and looked back to see about 4 guys riding up to us with McKissick at the front. I thought that was bad news, especially as I saw Routley and two more skinny as shit Red Truck dudes. But I felt good, relaxed and did not do any work as we climbed the rolling hills towards the top.

The descent was sweet! 53 mph straight down a picturesque hillside through a couple of hairpins and then out towards the river valley. We had the lead 3 in sight for a while and started to bring them back. The little junior canadian was unwilling to do any work, so I gave him a lot of shit for being a hoser. The pace was good and I drank as much as I could. Might have drunk too much, for as we hit the hill the second time, I had about 3 fingers of fluids. With 5 minutes on the field, it was then that McKissick and Co. just started to push it up the steep switchbacks and I popped. But not without some company behind me. I was determined to ride a steady tempo and not worry about the lack of water or the strong desire to jump into the sprinklers in the orchard. Actually, the misting devices of what was likely pesticide was enough to convince me to stay on the bike. About half way to the feedzone were two dudes in lawn chairs blasting Metallica from their white pick-up. Enter Sandman, baby! I kept dreaming of the feedzone and as I finally brought it within sight, some woman started jumping around yelling some dude's name. Then she realized I wasn't her husband. I told her I might be, but she was unconvinced. Jessie hooked me up with a 2 bottle feed with grace and elegance (even offered me a banana, which I thought was a little suggestive) and then I was off to get some cold water to pour on my swollen feet. I was feeling fine and no one was in sight behind.

With about 2 k left of the real climb I started to see a bigger group of guys come up from behind. More Canadians and only Lang Reynolds from the States. I hung on as the caught me and felt like I could hang. There were supposedly 8 in front of us. But Lang drilled it up one little riser and only 2 went with him. As I was cracking, Jeremy from the neutral car told me to get the fuck back in the race and I buried it to stay with 5 other guys. It was much needed encouragement and I just sat in for a bit. 2 H&R block, 2 Westwoods (including the junior hoser) and 1 Total Restoration guy. We got to the top and could see Lang about 45 seconds ahead. Nothing my 12 was going to do about that. On the descent we just ripped through the Masters field and saw no sign of any chasers. The Total Restoration dude fell off the pace at some point.

The four of us rotated our way along, with the Junior Hoser sitting out nearly every turn. At some point I started skipping turns and the other Westwood guy was doing long pulls. He tried to give me shit and I told him my rolling through was nearly as good as his teammate sitting in. He shut up. With 1 k to go the big Westwood guy attacked and I sat on his wheel. At about 200 meters to go, suddenly the junior hoser magically found his little legs and intentionally brushed my bars as he started sprinting. I was livid. The two H&R guys went for it and I dropped 3 gears down and was determined to beat that little fuck. With 50 meters to go I was sure I'd take him. I had enough time to tell him what I thought of him before I took the sprint for 11th. Overall, a great race.

I came back to find G Spot and Sweetness chilling in the orchards. G Spot was in usual form, chatting up the nearest ladies and generally sexing everything in sight. Sweetness was, well, his usual badass sweet self. We watched Jamie come in with Gallaher and Varella and then show us the fruits of his salt mining. Solid day and overall, Jamie stayed in the top 10 for the weekend and we both got us some bar points.

A little Thursday night win.

This Thursday was a bit rainy. By the time the race had started, the rain had stopped. Attending were me (Galen), Ian, Colin, Ronnie and Dux. Ronnie went in the First move of the evening that dangled off the front for a lap. A few others looked to bridge, Ian and Dux Covered. After a few laps of this it all came together on the downhill. I attacked at the base.

I got away with Kyle (Garage), Brent (Lenovo), AJ (Hagens) and another Hagens rider I didn't recognise. We worked together and fairly quickly put in a good twenty to thirty seconds. After a few laps the other Hagens guy was out. We continued to work togehter and pushed the gap up to a minute. I took the first three primes.

Meanwhile, in the pack Hone attacked with Ronnie on his wheel. Ronnie, reluctant to pull hone up to us didn't work much and forced Hone to work a bunch. The two of them were eventually reeled back to the pack.

At one point Venable (lenovo), chopped Ronnie's wheel. While Ian was scolding him people backed off and suddenly Venable and Ian had a gap. With this established they began to bridge.
Meanwhile up in the break we are duking it out for the last few primes. Just as i hear the bell for the last prime, I see Ian comming up all by his lonesome. I still want to get the last prime so I sit in and look for the sprint. AJ takes the prime and Kyle attacks. We all let Kyle go and I wait for Ian. We are now at about 3 laps to go.

Ian and I put in a few good pulls and reel Kyle back fairly handily. At a lap and a half to go we are catching Kyle; I attack. With a tired break from being off the front all evening there is not much motivation to chase me and I stay away for the win. Ian, sitting in, and clearly the best sprinter from who is left takes second. Colin takes second in the field sprint to Kenny.

A great evening of racing. We truly raced like Startled Panthers.

Yes, it's our favoirte day of the week, Thursday. And, in the words of our very own Ron Schmeer
" Tonight we race like startled panthers!"

State Road Race

The race. A bunch of laps, 100 miles total, a distance worthy of a state championship road race. Mick Walsh attacked early and everyone let him roll off. Not long after our very own Dan bridged up with Phil Elasser from team Fanatik. The three of them must have been cruising because they got as much as a 4:20 gap at points and had no representation from Haggens, Lenovo, HSP, or really anyone but us and Fanatik. Gin mostly sat in and covered a few bridge attempts, but it was overall fairly passive racing for the first half.

Halfway through the race Ian decided that his bladder was about to rupture and he just could not get himself to pee on the bike (Ronnie hadn’t told him about long division yet). So he pulls off for a 2 minute Austin Powers style urination then proceeds to chase back on for the next twenty minutes. Amusingly enough JOD came to the same conclusion a mile later and they were both peeing and chasing back on independently. Maybe some of that team money we get from the race can go towards buying some team radios. Communication is good and all.

Unfortunately for Mr. Mensher and JOD right around when they were peeing is right around when it started getting an organized chase. They both managed to get back on though. Ronnie flatted out sometime mid race and Dux was done with one or two to go. After 80 miles of racing the early break of 3 finally was reeled back in. I gave Dan a “nice work Dan” but I’m pretty sure he was comatose at that point. Impressive that Dan can still ride a bike while fully unconscious though. Shortly thereafter I attacked up the right side nearly taking myself out in the process thanks to a nice slick layer of mud on the shoulder. I pretty quickly got a 20 or 30 second gap. Just before the final turn I caught the Lead women’s group and passed them. When I got to the 1k to go sign the lead car neutralized me so that the women’s field could repass me and sprint. This mucked up the womens finish pretty good and had me very frustrated. They restarted me with a 20 second gap but I’m convinced that I had closer to 40 seconds or a minute by the time they stopped me. It sucked, but whatever. I started rolling again and put another 10 seconds into the field right away. The gap floated from 20-35 seconds for the remainder of the lap. I knew that this was the card I had played and that I had Ian sitting in for the sprint, so I put everything into it. Back in the pack I hear that Hone, Stanko, and Clayville were all chasing, but I managed to stick it. Finally after 20 miles of racing I hit the final 200 meters and was undoubtedly THE SLOWEST person to climb that hill that day. At least that is what it felt like. I finished it off and was able to post up and celebrate my victory, but less than 10 seconds (maybe more like 5) after crossing the line the field crossed behind me. I heard Ian screaming in triumph as he handily took the field sprint from the best sprinters in the NW. Awesome.