bobarazzi's blather

2011-10-16T13:17:00.000-07:00

Number nine, number nine…

I wish I could honestly say I was humming the Beatles “Revolution Number Nine” while skating my ninth A2A but it just didn’t happen. Though I can say that nine times is the charm. What with a 14mph tail wind and a decision to just skate to finish and the clock be damned; I had the easiest time I’ve ever had on the roads of Georgia. OK, in some respects it was the hardest time on the roads of Georgia because man were some of the downhills rough. Now you would think that flats and uphills would kill you when the road if rough, well how do you feel about 30 mph plus downhill and the road surface has you bouncing so your glasses are falling off. OK, so I exaggerate, but that’s why you read my posts, isn’t it?

The race started off in typical fashion, Eddy was wearing a Tai Barn Costume that he raced in for the first 10 yards of the event. This is really my kind of start, the gun goes off and everybody waits for the folks in front, no hurry, no worry. What kills me is that first hill out of town, there are skaters all over the road, too early for pace lines, and we’re going fast, my wheels are humming, I’m not awake and the road keeps getting steeper. About two miles out of town we make a left hand turn to a small climb and I’m starting to breath heavy and I haven’t even started to skate. I’m thinking, “How can I ever do this? I’m already tired!” Then things calm down and we get down to some skating. By this time folks have found their pace lines or are moving a bit faster to catch up to one.

So if you’ve read Larry’s great account of his race you’ll remember that early on there is a two-mile winding downhill where your speed continues to build and you have no clue were it will end. Larry’s description gave me a chuckle because we flat landers have no experience on real downhills and with this one coming so early in the race, with the pace lines long and the speeds high, it sends heart rates soaring and makes most of the other hills (bigger then Big Granite) seem downright manageable. Well I took that hill with plenty of trepidation as my boots this year are not customs, and subsequently fit less snug. I find it takes three or four hills for me to get use to the speeds and relax. Try it sometime you’ll see what I mean.

Funny thing, the miles didn’t seem to affect me this year, sure they hurt but thanks to some talk with Jan I was not cramping. (Thanks Jan!) When parts of my feet started to hurt I changed my foot work, when the pack moved too slowly up hill I found a way to slowdown. I did have to skate a very smart race though. See I’m on 100’s and most everyone else is on 110’s. So they would move slower uphill and faster down. So if I wasn’t in the middle of the pack starting down, I’d be playing catch up on the swing back up. Believe me, I had plenty of time to figure this out.

There were less police at intersections this year, but at the spots were it really mattered they were there. In Atlanta there was some really rough road for a block or so which almost brought me to a complete stop. As always, the finish line is a party of its own with everyone just happy to be still standing. Afterwards the feeling of accomplishment is unparalleled to anything else I do, and the glow emanating off of first time finishers is unmistakable as they enter into an elite family of skaters. Oh, and it always helps to have attractive help with your boots after an event like this. Thanks Jess!

Soon the glow wears off and one notices another unyielding thought. "I’M HUNGRY!" And I knew just what to do about it. Three miles from the finish I was stood up by the smell of Bar-B-Que and the smell did not disappoint. Fox Bros. is along one of the rougher parts of the route and as we sat there lapping up the sauce, skaters continued to struggle by still trying to get to the finish line. I’m not quite sure what they yelled back at me as I sat on the patio with my drink and my sticky fingers. I’m sure it was well wishes.

Finally, as if that wasn't enough, here is a video I shot along the way.

2011-08-20T19:35:00.001-07:00

A skate with a very wet beginning and end

When John invited us up to his place for a long skate and to “show us the sites” around Woodstock Larry, Margo, Tom and I had no idea that “the sites” included spectacular lightening, torrential rains and puddles deep enough to dwarf our 110 mm wheels. Let me start from the beginning, at 5:30 Saturday morning the radar was not looking promising, though the forecasts called for only a 60 percent chance of rain. One forecaster was calling for early rain clearing by late morning, (Tom Skilling), others were calling for clear skies early and showers late. After a few 6 am calls we all decide to head out to Woodstock for a good long skate; we were aiming for 50 miles. Tom was so up for it that he put in brand new bearings and never looked at a forecast. Good luck with that!

Margo and I drove up together and the windshield wipers were going for only about a third of the drive. The sky was unreadable once at John’s and fireman Larry used his extensive knowledge of the basic elements to declare, “It’s not going to rain.” Well I barely got my feet into my skates before a steady drizzle starts. Only upon our return does John tell us that as we depart a car rolls down his window to tell him we’re skating into a severe storm warning. I guess it didn’t matter because once we were out of town and skating in the severe storm I pretty much knew it. I was blinking so fast that my eyes were closed more than they were open. Pretty interesting skating downhill through a river of water with your eyes closed.

Well the rain did let up and the road pretty much dried up, except Margo then has to comment, “Hey, it’s drying up.” Just then the sky opens up and we’re back in the heavy rain. Though thankfully not torrential like before.

One thing you have to know about a skate from John’s house, you have to go uphill to get back. So no matter how far you skate, we cut our skate to only 28 miles, there is always pain waiting for you in the last miles. Today wasn’t so bad, though the wet pavement made for some tough going. All in all the company made for a really enjoyable skate. What is it about suffering with good friends in good humor? This was one of those skating events that from this writing will continue to grow in length, wind, storm surge and proximity of lightening, but that is what a good story is all about, just enough truth to keep it believable.

A big thanks goes out to John and his wife Deb for the hot tub and the BBQ after the skate, it made the sun coming out for the rest of the day more tolerable. I will always listen to Tommy Skillet from now on. Good skating everyone.

2011-07-30T12:06:00.000-07:00

“What is strong?”
Chicagoland Inline Marathon

If you spent any time at all this year watching the Tour de France you’ll be as tried as I am of this advertising slogan. Over the three weeks of Tour de France telecasts the avid viewer will see the same six commercials hundreds of times. This ad for sportswear being one of them. How sorry I was this month at the Chicagoland Inline Marathon to discover this commercial would be my last mental resort to crossing the finishing line. Let’s start at the beginning.

The week before the race I took a tumble in a pace line. To my good fortune I was a bit hung over so sliding on the asphalt at 20 mph didn’t really hurt. Though the bike that than ran over me after I went down didn’t help. OK, so I seemed fine, the shower afterwards didn’t hurt too much so out I was the next day for team interval training. I did notice my muscles were a bit stiff where the tire marks ran up my back however. On the third interval I was determined to get a good jump so as not to get crowded out of the sprinting. On my second stride after the gun a disk slips out of place in my back and I’m at a stand still trying to quiet it down. I’m able to keep it lose for a half hour of very easy skating to keep the muscles from locking up, but due to the road rash from the day before I’m not able to take a HOT shower.

Well the week goes by and the back doesn’t get any worse and I’m walking upright, albeit gingery. So the morning of the race I’m less then thrilled to be driving to Hoffman Estates in the driving rain. (Oh did I mention the spectacular lightening as well.) Cale lends me four Storm Surge wheels to help with the slippage and off we go. At the gun I combine worry about my back and slipping to get off to one of my worst starts yet, and that turns out to be a high point in my race. Knowing the turns of our course I was able to get into a good pack once onto the frontage road. But when the move came that split the pack my hesitancy kept me from bridging the gap immediately. Suddenly feeling all alone (I failed to look behind me) I took it upon myself to catch up. Catching up I stand up and feel a hand on my back and knew I’d made an amateur’s mistake.

Let it just be said that from that point on pack after pack dropped me, until it got down to individuals dropping me. I have no explanation for it except that something just wasn’t there. As motivation I went into visualizing the Tour. I saw myself as Cadel Evans time trailing. “I can do this, I can do this, I can do...” until I realized I was time trialing more like Andy Schleck and that I wasn’t going to measure up. Really it came to me in a flash, “OMG! I’m not Cadel, I’m Andy.” That took what wind there was out of my sails. Soon after this I’m at the point where I stop to tighten my skates, I change my stride every 20 seconds, I talk to all the course marshals as I crawl by, anything to get through the agony. Then it hits me, “What is strong?” and as the ad says, “Maybe strong is what’s left after you’ve used up all of your weak.” Well I’d used up about all of everything else, why not all of my weak? That somehow kept me going.

I never seriously contemplated giving up, but I sure as hell wanted to be finished. My finishing sprint was only in my mind and I’m not sure I even coasted as far as the chip removal buckets. All in all, if I had been only five or seven minutes slower than my normal time I would have been mad at myself for not trying harder. But this, what was this? A result so different from anything else that I just chalk it up to experience. Experience, and as the answer to that classic advertising slogan, “What is strong?”

2010-08-11T20:02:00.000-07:00

Chicagoland Inline Marathon

This was a race of small victories. In my position, one of not skating very much, like not at all, all I can hope for when I skate are small victories. The race started, as always, with my less then aggressive start, which this day was accentuated by lining up next to Tom Grosspietsch. Tom squirts through a crowd like a… like a I don’t know what. All I know is after 20 yards of avoiding flailing arms, legs and skates I look up and Tom is disappearing in the crowd 10 yards ahead of me. As the opening closes down in Tom’s wake I settle into my early race routine, playing catch up. I’m soon in the pack with Tom, though he’s in front and I’m near the back. Today seems to be the day when racing on my worn down 100’s finally takes its toll. I’m working too hard to stay with this group and I’m sitting in their draft.

Well I’m toast as we hit the little square of rough pavement out at the far end of the course. Turning back onto Central I’m once again playing catch up as we approach the uphills. Bye bye pack. A mile or so down the road and John Silker’s pack, with big German Horst in it picks me up. It wont be ‘til the second time through this stretch that I realize what it is my skates are slipping on. The road is full of frogs. Seems we had so much rain the frogs came out to play chicken with the cars and by the looks of things, the frogs lost.

Back to racing. Kris K. and Colum are also in this pack and looking strong, as well as a young 20 something gal in rec skates. My how I wish pack skating wasn’t a learned skill. She really was distracting to skate behind, you know the stop-start, pull out, pull in technique that so wears us old guys out. (wink wink) Anyway the energy I expended there I saved by drafting Silker and Horst, both giants among men and great skaters to boot.

As always the 2 left-hand turns inside AT&T are awesome and a thing of beauty if you take the right line. The crowd at the roundabout was very encouraging. Without being able to hang with the pack I had my sights on I will gladly settle for having skated a good tactical race, not pulling too much and rarely where I didn’t want to. All leaving just enough at the end, even when the sprint started so far back that most of the pack didn’t have that much sprint in them. It’s a rare sprint were I pass half of those who take off in front of me. I know for a fact that Colum had one one thousandth of a second too little sprint left as I busted my butt to catch that Rainbo jersey in front of me and with nothing left, I can’t say hawked, I stuck my left foot out and it hit the wire first. I swear Colum crossed the second wire before me; that was how close it was. The timing went three decimal places down to separate us. Either way I was just very happy to break 1:30.

Little victories, especially at the finish, loom large. Thanks to all the volunteers, sponsors and organizers for another great weekend of racing. See you next year for sure.

2010-06-20T19:57:00.001-07:00

Apostle Island Inline Marathon
As evidence that this was not the usual Rainbo trip to a race I present this evidence; over the 800 mile plus trip I changed seats in the car twice; blasphemy I know, totally unheard of in the team van. Worse yet, we made stops, twice in one town, namely Phillips, Wisconsin.

First at the Fred Smith museum of concrete art were we tried to enlist a good tall skater to lead us out on fliers. Second to eat a fabulous meal at the Crystal Café; yes we stopped to eat, unthinkable. I had the Fish Fry and the beer battered fish was the lightest most delicious I’ve had since I was on the Tamiami ("tammy-ammy," it rhymes) Trail on the West Coast of Florida. Nothing was as it should be.

To add insult to injury we were forced to walk all the way across the parking lot to get from the hotel to dinner were the Prime Rib at the Steak Pit looked every bit as good as the Walleye. How was I supposed to decide? As far as accommodations, I’m putting in a complaint with the manager of the Super 8 in Washburn because the queen size beds were so comfortable I had no excuse not to just go to sleep and not wake up until the on-time wake up call. In the morning the roads were clear of traffic, the parking ample and the ferry boats were so on time there could be no one but myself to blame if I didn’t have the perfect race. Something was terribly wrong; I needed an excuse in a hurry.

The heat and 35 mph winds of the day before were gone and from what I could tell the road surface was smooth as glass. Nothing there. The coffee shop on the island opened early and Jim got my order right. Nothing there. It was a bit chilly out but the rec center was open and the couches were comfortable. Nothing there. This was shaping up to be one of the worse races in resent memory.

I started grasping at straws for how I was going to blow the race. Maybe I’d leave my chip strapped onto my bag and only notice it at the starting line. Nah, nobody would believe that; would they Jim? Jim (aka the dog killer). Maybe I could change my registration to another much tougher category and complain about that all the way home. Wait a minute; I was already signed up in Pro/Advanced Veteran; that was it! There’s no way I’m competitive with the studs in the Pro Vet category. OK, I could relax, I had my excuse all lined up.

The start went off without a hitch, as Herb Gale wasn’t there they only had to sing the “Star Spangled Banner,” none of that “Oh Canada” stuff. And it was time to go. With the start/finish line on a slight down hill with a 90 degree left hand turn about 200 yards up the road only the leaders got a true jump off the start. The pace was sane and sensible until the first step after the turn. Then all hell broke loose and if you weren’t quick on the turn you had to hit the after burners as the big dogs were booking. As it was Ken Huss, a Duluth skater named Tim and I burned a fella out at the front of our small group as we encouraged him to close the gap. I saw immediately when the gap started to widen but I didn’t have it to jump out and quicken the pace. So we let the group ahead go and settled down into a smooth but fast pace. The left hand turns came and the head winds picked up and the road started it’s little undulations and the legs started to tell lies, all about how they might not make it and hey, back off a bit and the like. About this time we caught up to Chris Wright and she was having none of it once she was rested and we kept a good pace.

A funny thing happened on the way through the finishing area, first time through I was pulling while Iris was snapping our photo. Second time through I was in the same position and Ken went on a flier saying “no way buddy, this photo op’s mine.” I let him have it. Good thing I did to for as we were closing in on half way through the third lap of three the lead pack from Rec/Fitness catches us. No way this is a Rec/Fitness group, this is 30 of the guys from the A group in Duluth. They are leaving a few gaps in the line and I jump in. A big draft is a beautiful thing. Ken didn’t have the legs to make the transition but Tim and Chris did. The pace was fast and there was a bit too much position jockeying three miles out but we were flying and I was smiling. Of course now I’m thinking the excuse is custom made. “Oh I would have been two minutes faster had I signed up in the right category.”

If there is one thing Rainbo skaters have over others skaters, even those of us who neglect to practice, we climb and we turn. The largest of the small climbs on the course is just before the turn to the finish and it was there that I moved up on 30% of those in front of me. And I took the turn tight and that downhill finish will make a champion of anyone. WOW! It sure is sweet kicking downhill. The times were fast and the smiles broad. This is really one not to miss. Now why was I looking for excuses?

On the way back we tricked Jan into being in charge of the music instead of driving then we just kept telling him to turn it down. Worked like a charm. We ate our lunches like men this time, in the car, on the move and I didn’t almost get killed until I was on the final block to my house, when a car blew a stop sign a second before I drove through. Timing, it’s everything in life.
So close that gap, you may not get another chance.

2010-06-05T11:08:00.000-07:00

Great Midwest Inline Marathon
I have to say I almost always have something fun or funny to relate after a race, but this one was something else again. After driving a touch of the course prior to race time I was wondering if I was the only one who thought they heard something about this being a flat course. I now think what was said was this was a “relatively” flat course. Relative to the Rocky Mountains, this is a real flat course. Well thank the heavens that at least the pavement was in good condition. What’s that you say? You fell in a tar snake? Well the road was in “relatively” good condition. Never mind all that, at least it’s May in Wisconsin and the temperature was cool and refreshing. Wait, what? The temperature was in the mid 80’s with equally high humidity? Yep! It was the perfect storm of conditions to make for a challenging beginning to the Midwest outdoor season.

The silver lining for me was, with almost no training this spring, I fell into a group of thinking skaters that worked together for 26 of the 26.2 miles of the race. We were; two Bob’s, one Guy, one Ken, one Denise and together we were awesome. The course was “relatively” shaped like a “P.” We skated out of town and around the loop of the “P” five times then back into town. The wind, of course, was with us while in the wooded part of the loop, so it did very little good and in our faces on the "relatively" downhill back portion of the loop. So rest as in short supply. I take it this matters little to the pro’s but to us back-packers the wind and the hills are a big deal.

Anyway, the loop was hilly but we all “knew” that the big hills were behind us once we headed back into town. WHAT? The hills were harder heading back.? That’s where a snake up and bit the other Bob in our group. Luckily the next downhill was a biggin’ and Bob picked himself up, and caught up.

I think I only realized how hot it was when, upon leaving the loop, I grabbed a cup of water and instinctively threw it on myself instead of drinking it. Boy did that feel good. Sorry Denise, I think you were behind me at the time.

Anyway at the last turn there was an acceleration that I should have known was coming; I was gapped by about 5-10 feet which, according to the results, grew to whatever 2 seconds is at 16 mph. But no problem, I simply told my legs to pick it up and... and... and nothing. No back talk, no complaints, nothing. I knew what had to be done and with the wind at our backs for once, when it would do some good, my legs decided we were no longer on speaking terms. Still, I was more than happy to have finished with the folks I’m normally competitive with, and my light-headedness was nothing that two bratwursts and a couple of beers couldn’t cure.

All joking aside, this is an awe-inspiring event, three days of racing, of which I participated in only one, with a star-studded field of skaters and it is already on my calendar for next year.

2010-03-28T19:59:00.000-07:00

The Fleeting Flash of Glory or How Far Can You Fall and How Fast.

This weekend’s adventure to Minneapolis and the 2010 Metrodome Inline Marathon contained all the usual suspects, highways hijinks, bad jokes, good food eaten together and some very entertaining racing. I have come to look upon this event as putting indoor skating to bed for the year and the beginning of warmer, drier streets and trails out of doors. Before I put all of that indoor skating to rest however I need to recap Friday and Saturday’s trip in Minneapolis.

Friday evening as the team gathered for dinner the consensus was running 4 to 1 that Kevin would never make it to the Dome in time for the half marathon, which was to be his warm up for the team time trial later in the day. So Cale and Margo were on me to take his place so I’d be “loose” for the real race. One massive iPhone text later from Kevin and the Carvell contingent moved to “Plan B,” I was now going to race for John McLinn in the half instead of the whole marathon, John couldn’t make it but I hope he makes it to Texas instead. If your head is now spinning, you can bet mine was, or maybe that was the martini at dinner.

Leave be said that I didn’t think I’d be skating in the morning when I dropped the troops off at the Dome and went in search of a breakfast. Three pancakes, two eggs, bacon, and an order of potatoes later I show up at the dome to the call to get my skates on. Cale has me lined up to skate the half in about 45 minutes. This should be fun… if I don’t throw up first. Maybe it’ll all be downhill.

Margo is skating the half as well after cheering on Cale in the Pro/Advanced Individual Marathon and is beginning to talk about finishing times. I’m thinking only of trying to finish with breakfast intact. We are among the last to enter the floor and in my gallantry I wave Margo to start first, she declines saying I should go and she’ll catch up with me. Remember this “polite” action on Margo’s part, it’ll play a role later in the tale.

I coast onto the floor and start out slightly faster than the rec skaters getting my legs under me when Margo flies by me yelling “jump on!” Had this been later in the day my response would have been to drop the “F bomb” on her, but at that point I had no idea those words would become the approved friendly greeting for the rest of the weekend. Maybe it was my body language but Margo knew I wasn’t coming so she was waiting for me around the corner. Together we started moving along at good pace; a good pace on an empty stomach, but way too fast for my current condition. Everything passes eventually and since skating seems to help things “pass” more quickly I decided, “let’s skate.” At least my lower center of gravity helped me stay down behind Margo until a few big Minnesotans latched onto us and I could stand up.

We started flying around the track and it was truly mayhem, one guy with us kept calling “outside” to pass skaters on the inside and for the first 15 minutes most skaters thought they were the fast skaters so they were all in against the left-hand wall where we were trying to get by. After one of my pulls, yes breakfast had settled some, I pulled off the lead to get on the back of the line and the guy there sucking my wheels waves me off because we can’t have more then five in a pace line. I “politely” ask him who the "H" he thinks has been pulling him, all while I’m dodging in and out of skaters in Bermuda shorts and quad skaters in tutu’s. Soon we’re paired down to four of us who are skating in a nice tight pack and I’m beginning to enjoy myself and wondering why I thought Margo was just going to go out for a joy ride when one of the tutu’s believes she’s going to jump on with us. She gauges our pass and moves left right into my right skate. I feel a slight bump and then she’s in behind me... falling... holding onto my shirt and falling. I start swatting her off and yelling, not very politely I’m afraid, to let go of the shirt. Oh did I mention I was skating in a t-shirt? I thought this just a warm up.

So Margo and I finish, having dropped everyone in our group and laugh it off and go down to cool off and wait for the race. Forty five minutes later or Cale comes over to Margo, hands her a Rollerdome mug and says congratulations, you won. Sure as sh*t our warm up was five minutes faster than the next fastest skater. I get a mug for second place and then realize that Margo out foxed me for the win. She knew that by starting behind me she would be ten seconds in front of me when we finished together. You know with friends like that...

Well glory really is fleeting as our team race was anything but stellar. We verbally abused our pit crew and lap timer, we finished with only four of our original complement of five and we passed only one other team only once, and they were coasting in on their last lap six laps in front of us. But boy were we in the zone. The “FU” zone if you know what I mean.

Many team members achieved personal bests out of the race course, and several came home with trophy mugs. We achieved new heights of personal growth, spitting Tom G. into good Tom and bad Tom and late in the day bad Tom came out in all his glory. Now I have to say this is only a matter of a competitor giving his all for the team, but his all this time was just a little salty. In truth you couldn't say a nicer thing to a teammate after the race then “F*ck you.” We really were working hard out there.

As happens so often though Cale became the workhorse and pulled 30 or more of the 71 laps and man I needed it. Margo may have been the tallest skater in the bunch after me so I was getting no draft. Add to that Cale trying to take me out early in the race and you can see why maybe I’d leave him out there to pull. Seems Cale took a cue from the tutu lady of earlier and cut back into line too early only this time he took my foot out from under me. Imagine trying to hold an edge on one foot on slick concrete. It's not going to happen. About 10 minutes into the race I’m heading for floor screaming bloody murder. I just hate going down silently, for me it all show or no show. Funny thing is the floor really is slippery. I slide to a stop, get a skate under me and I’m up no worse for wear. No muss, no fuss.

Anyway the other teams were very understanding and gracious, only yelling once or twice a lap to get out of their way and adding a "good job" in as they flashed by every other lap. First it was a burden, then a joke, then an “FU.” But we wore them all done, yes we did. We eventually passed them all like they were standing still. Then it was our turn to yell, “On your left.” Well maybe they were standing still just a little bit, maybe they were all finished and we had six laps to go, but we still passed them, everyone of them.

Cale, Margo, Kevin, Tom, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It was a fun day of racing and friendship and that my friends, not the hoky poky, is what it’s all about.

Thanks goes out to Adam Kocinski, the volunteers, the sponsors and the Metrodome for another wonderful event and we hope to see everyone back in the area for the St. Paul races coming up this summer.

2009-10-13T14:12:00.000-07:00

Is Eight Enough?

Planning, preparations and training all seemed to be on track for what I’ve privately been saying is my 8th and final lap through hell and back, uh, did I say that out loud? I meant to say Athens to Atlanta Road Skate. Everything was a go except for a raw spot on my ankle where my boot cuff rubs. The addition of eZeefit ankle liners helped tremendously in Duluth, but then those of us who know, know that A2A is not Duluth so I so gearing up for a few hot spots. Oh yeah, one other tiny problem, Cale kicked my butt the previous Sunday out at Sears as we did three “easy laps” in the wind that for me were anything but easy. I was walking stooped over with back pain right up to the night before flying into Atlanta. Go figure.

All week the weather report was improving for race day and when it came down to it, in my 7 previous races there, I have never seen a better combination of temps and winds. It was cool most of the day with 3 to 5 mph tail winds and cloudy for the first 30 miles or so. Very sweet conditions, however. . . when you’re not sweating, but you’re still drinking what needs being done? More on that later.

Enough weather talk, back to skating. Race day arrives after a pleasant day in Athens. Athens exits for skaters to eat, toss and turn in bed and break in the legs as they walk up the hill in the dark towards the starting line.

This by far was the smallest group I’d seen at the start, however when the horn blew the crowd on the street leaving downtown Athens seemed just as dense. After a quick couple of turns the lack of skaters was obvious as the four lane road was more than ample to maneuver and group up. Right away the rookies got a taste of the Georgia
hills as the main road out of town slants down and curves under a railroad track. Nothing steep about this downgrade, but at about the time when a good Midwesterner would be saying to him or herself, hey that was fun, they start to notice that their skates are steadily humming a higher and higher pitch. But the fun ends soon enough and with a left turn onto a short climb the day begins.

At this point Cale has gone ahead to scout the road for us with his Fossil friends so Margo, John Silker, Ken Huss and I group together with about 15-20 other skaters in an attempt to hold down the middle of the race. As John let us know early and often, his strategy was, “To start slow then slowly taper.” Which by the way is a very good strategy. John was actively channeling his 3rd grade student joke book for most of the first half of the race. By mile 40 – 50 however John was saving his breath along with the rest of us. What was it John, the silence or the groaning that tipped you off?

For those who haven’t been there I can say it is the later hills that invade your night time sleep, but early on I was struggling. I could tell something was different this year, maybe I was paying too much attention to those around me as I was aware that Margo and Ken were on their first attempt. I tried not to coach too much, but when you have a 2 mile downhill with a bridge and surface change at the bottom, you want to let the person in front of you know that the transition is smooth, no braking necessary. Anyway it seemed the early hills were really eating into me. It could only mean that I had had too good a night’s sleep. See most years I lay in bed, up all night fretting, once out on the course nothing is as bad as I imagined it. This time it was all harder than I expected. If I ever go back I’m planning on staying up all night worrying.

About ten miles in and our group is whittled down to about 8 or 10 skaters, most of us doing the full distance. Margo, John, Ken and I are casually spread out in the group as the pace uphill is manageable and the recovery time on the longish downhills adequately rejuvenating. We have already been passing the prerequisite number of folks that have been dropped by their packs ahead or thought better of the pace they were skating but we did not expect to spot a friendly pony tail hanging out in the middle of the road. Cale is skating circles in the road waiting for us to come along and as expected he easily jumps on our group with the explanation that the fast group is “out of their minds” with the pace they are setting and he knew that wasn’t for him. Several in our pack know Cale from the Montreal 24 hour event and it was now a real fun gathering. With us were Karin Chamberlain, who set a new solo woman’s record in Montreal and long time A2A’er and Montreal’er Luke Sawh.

As we climb closer and closer to Dacula and the 38 “half way” finish line, the hills get steeper and I’m beginning to think that I quit doing A2A one year too late. This was getting hard. Just before the 30 mile mark and the second water stop Ken starts to cramp up. Let’s give the guy some credit here; two weeks ago he finished the NYC 100k. If he wants to cramp, let him cramp. But that is serious business on these hills and he pulled out at 30 miles. Ken isn’t our only casualty, a few miles later I hear a call to hold up as we’re stretching out and I can’t believe it when I hear it’s Cale falling back. Karin is the first to offer that we all stop and let him regroup; that’s the kind of event this is. Cale will have none of it and assures Margo that he will be fine but that he is dropping out. We continue on without him and there is silence in the pack for a number of miles. I know many of us were dreading having to go up the next set up hills into Dacula and in Cale’s condition they must have really hurt. Ken and Cale it wasn’t the same race without you guys and seeing you there to cheer us on at rest stop four really lifted out spirits.

The miles wore on and the friendly nature of our group never wavered. Many of us needed to slow a bit to “cook” while still skating. After each water stop I needed to empty two packs of powder into each new 16 oz bottle of water, an interesting juggling act while skating yet no one ever attacked after a water stop. I even lost a bottle and two others offered theirs. And were we tired? Back at mile 30 I noticed the first cramps starting as I tucked to fly down a hill, by mile 50 I was using every opportunity to stretch out my legs, on the downhills I would pick up each knee several times, like doing a high step, on the uphills I would move out of line and take real long slow strokes. More often than not this meant I ended up pulling ahead up the hills, no guys I wasn’t feeling strong, I was trying not to fall over. I do have a physical record of how I was feeling however. I caught a photo of the time clock in Dacula as we passed by, 2:36 – we were shooting for 2:30 so not bad. The next photo I have is of the Atlanta city limits. The camera sat in its case for almost 40 miles, now that’s tired.

Along the way there were plenty of other close calls and other risqué behavior. One officer of the law stood leaning on his car watching us desperately braking down a hill to avoid running a red light at a four lane highway, one skater hit the deck to keep from shooting into traffic and the officer just continued to text or email without missing a beat. Another pair of officers pulled their squad out into a busy street to stop traffic and as we hit the intersection a pickup blasts through across our path. It’s very hard to start up that big hill in front of you when you’ve almost become road kill. Other times the group would be separated up a hill and the first one down would not be in the pace line. Sometimes you could yell “pushing” and help them down, other times the pack would shoot by you like you were standing still and then you would have to struggle to catch on. More times then not the pace line would continue to accelerate up hill and we once came close to topping one hill and starting down another without a single stride. Almost.

The miles wore on and the water bottles kept emptying and where was all that liquid going? Most Rainbo team members have an inkling by now that Margo can let it all hang out just as easily as any of the boys; hey where was Karin at this point? Anyway I can attest there was no peeking; except maybe out of the suburban Atlanta windows at this horde of colorful figures "watering" their lawn and their trees.

By now it is common knowledge that the course was a few miles longer do to a detour. That road was tough going over rough pavement and some steep hills. I think I was beginning to have words with my own higher power about this time; something about deliverance I believe. There is also the pure act of faith which is the railroad track at the bottom of a another of the very steep hills. There is no way that it looks as smooth as the tracks here in Chicago, but fly over it every time we do. Thank you lord, for a brief half a second once a year I knew exactly where you are. Of course Silver Hill is Silver Hill, manageable, but long, fast and not to be attempted in a pack. Not by me at least.

Those last few miles in Atlanta are always “entertaining.” What with the two or three miles of gatorback that I never told Margo about. I figured our feet are going to be hurting anyway, why worry a rookie. Then there was the sidewalk to cross and the cops who did such a great job stopping all the traffic, except the pedestrians were looking at them and not at the line of skaters about to cross their path. We could smell the plastic of their baby strollers and the Sunday bunch on their breath as we passed through them and onto the last stretch of road home.

Ah, but the old body wasn’t finished with me yet; suddenly there was a police siren which sounded like it was directly behind us, I tried to look back and as I did my right leg collapsed. I got it back under me but it wouldn’t support my weight and just like in Duluth, there was a tree there to save me. In an area of nothing but concrete one square had been cut out and filled with wood chips and a sapling. Man trees are hard! I tried to get up but the leg still wouldn’t hold, that and I was now turned around facing Athens, no way was I going back that way. In the few seconds it took to get started again the group was down the slope making the right turn into traffic. At least no one turned around to yell, “See ya sucker!” As the attempted escapees became entangled in the bit of traffic at the last big crossing, I was able to catch up. Yeah, now the legs were hurting, but then there was the finish line calling and I could think of nothing better then to choose where next to sit down.

The finish was a joy; seven of us came across in a group signifying that we wished to be scored a tie; that is not before Margo needed a friendly reminder to slow down a bit. Always the competitor, as we entered the park, for maybe the first time all day Margo was leading. To her credit however I’ll wager her feet wanted her done more dearly then her heart wanted one higher place in the rankings. We were very happy to see Ken and Cale at the finish, as well as Marcy and let us not forget Kathy with the cooler of beer for those that needed it. Did anybody not need a beer after that?

Before the beer must come the taking off of the skates. Here Kathy lets Renee take on the job only another skater should attempt. (At least when they've been on for more than 6 hours.) And at what other event do they offer free slippers, yes there were decorated slippers for finishers. Awesome.

2009-10-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

Some Really Poor Film Making,
Some Much Better Skating

I have to say that I did not know that Marcy won the woman's event until later on Sunday when I read Greg's email. Now I get home and look at the video I shot and I see she told me. See if you can hear her brag about herself. You may have to play it back a few times. All together maybe there is 2 minutes of video here, way less than I thought I had shot. Enjoy.

Oh and I do know that you can't shoot video in portrait format, I just keep forgetting.

2009-09-21T18:09:00.000-07:00

A Decade of Duluth

This year’s trip to Duluth came complete with a 10-year pin inside my registration bag as I arrived for the 14th “running” of the Northshore Inline Marathon. The weather conditions promised to be good but I came with no hopes of besting last year’s PB of 1:15 and change, but I get ahead of myself. First and foremost I have to send out dudo’s to my travelling mates, Liz, Herman and Nancy it was a weekend of firsts. Nancy’s first full marathon, Liz’s first carpool experience and my first time bunking with a father/daughter combo. In respect to Liz missing out on the team van experience due to Cale’s entrepreneurial endeavors we tried to make our trip as close to a team van experience as possible, once in our seats there was no changing, there or back. Except for a brief stint at the very beginning with Nancy driving, Herman drove the entire way; I had to pee more than anyone else except Margo who wasn’t with us, and to enhance the experience of speeding through Wisconsin, Herman got a speeding ticket without even speeding. (Cale would really have been.)

We had some really sweet daughter/father bonding all weekend it was a pleasure to watch and be part of. Did I mention that Nancy is Herman’s daughter? Well being his daughter doesn’t inoculate one from falling head first into Herman’s world and they had some very interesting exchanges. I swear the thought pattern the passes for logic in that man’s head could make me famous if only I knew how to explain it. All of you who know and love the Hermanator know exactly what I’m talking about.

We reached Duluth early afternoon on Friday to gale force winds blowing from the east. Most of us wanted to drive out to Two Harbors on the spot and be blown back into Duluth. I was ready to fashion a sail out of my Rainbo wind breaker, but alas it wasn’t to be. By morning the winds were mostly calm though still out of the east. Race time and the temp. was close to 50 and dry. The start of the “A” wave went off cleanly and fast, and in no time lines were forming up and breaking apart as soon as they were stable. The first six miles or so was a close fought thing what with all the skaters still bunched, the road surface being rough and the large number of tar skates.

It was in this stretch or soon thereafter that I’m pulling John Silker and Kris Felstehausen up the left side of the road when 20 yards ahead I spot arms flailing in the middle of the pack skating up middle of the road. An orange jerseyed figure comes shooting sideways out in front of us and in his attempts to right himself he spins around backwards and is looking me in the face. Now, I know this is wrong, you should never be looking into the face of another skater, especially when he is in front of you. A split second later he is down and it looks good for us to move onto the shoulder and get around him, but no, his momentum takes him further and further to the left and soon I realize that at over 20 mph you can skate on gravel, or over gravel. It’s only once you start to slow to 15 that the wheels dig in and you go flying. I’m down, and quickly sliding off into the grass and hello, what’s this, a tree. I’m stopped, I’m up, and so is John and we skating again. John pulls hard and we grab the tail end to the 150-175 skaters still bunched together and then John pulls off and tells me to go on. I found out later that his customs have a funny latch system and he had to stop to reattach a buckle.

I spend a good deal of time working back up the pack as I was sure this end group will be gapped very soon. I mainly work my way forward on the uphills, by stepping out and not slowing when I know the line sag a bit. Success, soon I pull in behind Kris and she acts as if she’s seen a ghost. Frankly, I was as surprised as she that I was back on with the lead group, in fact at times I was within 5 or 6 skaters of the lead but thought better and fell back.

Herman and daughter Nancy, like father like daughter. It's hard to tell who's legs are who's with those bandages.

Well that end bunch never did get gapped. We had a fast pace but with TeamRainbo members and last year’s Advanced category winners Gary and Stevo having been moved up into elite there were no work horses there willing to lay it on the line. Casey from Rainbo tried several times. I saw him up there in the very front but other skaters would take over and slow the pace. From this mayhem soon ensued. We caught the pro women at about mile 17 or 18. Add their pace line, which we had to allow them a clear line, and a motorcycle to the ever evolving lines of 150 skaters and crashes and spills started taking their toll. Most skaters where courteous, but even I moved over on a woman skater without glancing behind me first and had to apologize, fortunately no harm done. I was able to skate with and help Angie Taylor, the overall open female winner. Quite a thrill, great skate Angie.

Needless to say Lemon Drop Hill was a mad house, being boxed in I saved my energy going up and took a good line down and missed the big wipe out as we motored down the ramp onto the highway. My wheels seemed to slip a bit on the grooved pavement the pace was so high. I played it safe in the last tunnel as three lanes of skaters had to merge right onto the one lane off ramp and that may have cost me my finishing position. I was able to move up nicely on the hill to the turn but the leaders where ahead and taking advantage of open road ahead. I took the turn wide at full speed with little or no traffic, but down towards DECC the road was now solid skaters everyone taking their own line. There was little space to do anything but coast down the hill, then taking the two left hand turns wide I was able again to move up. The wind was not a factor at the finish and at least no one caught me. I was two minutes off of last year’s PB for a 1:17:27, and a second place in the late 50’s category.

Of course the almost 80 degree weather in the afternoon after the race made for a great day outside and my evening Rosh Hashanah meal at Famous Dave’s was festive. Thanks Duluth for ten years of great racing. This is always the race I measure myself against. Well this and A2A next month.

2009-07-26T20:06:00.000-07:00

History Repeats Itself… again

This weekend’s 3rd running of the Chicagoland Inline Marathon proved that races can improve and grow year after year. This year’s course was perfected into three challenging laps of rolling hills and interesting twists and turns. To add to the excitement and spectator fun, the pro’s skated separate from the advanced and rec/fitness skaters so we mere mortals got to see what all the shouting is about.

For me the day started on a bad note, and a bad joke, about a week back I suffered a muscle spasm that saw me with a weak back that I’d had since about a week back. I almost pulled out of the race during my warm ups as it felt like I would never make it up the hills. But an entrance fee is an entrance fee so when the racers lined up there I was ready to go.

I was overly cautious at the start but almost immediately found I was not hurting so I started to move through the mob hunting down the usual suspects. I sensed the first turn would have the still compact group slowing down so I choose that moment and the long downwind stretch as my chance to move forward. This meant I missed the break of the lead pack, but since I seldom hang with the young guns for long I let them have their fun without much regret.
For the second time this month the hills were my friends, at least more so than for many other racers. I found myself almost resting as the pack slowed way down unable to find it’s stride uphill and into the wind. I am extremely fortunate that the hills were easy as I skate on 100’s and most all my competitors are on 110’s; so I work harder in the pack on the flats and I have to skate to maintain speed on the downhills.

Two thirds of the way through the first lap we reached the two fast left-hand turns and I played a bit of Tour de France with the pack and maneuvered two fellow Rainbo skaters to the front with me to lead us through at full speed. I knew if the home team led the way we would avoid any unnecessary braking though what are really two exhilarating turns. With that success behind me I seemed comfortable playing the percentages throughout the rest of the race. Moving forward or backwards in the pack to gauge when I would have to pull and where I wanted to suck wheels. I did once or twice get gapped and more than once barely clawed my way back to the pack.

Then it all came down to three skaters. Near the end of the third lap there was a break away just as the course comes out of AT&T, turns right onto the street, and then heads back into AT&T for the run to the finish. I felt we couldn’t be caught or catch anyone and Ken Huss and John, the other skaters, seemed content to battle it out with each other for the lead. I sat on them waiting for someone to make a break for the finish and when it came I answered on the outside. In the long sweeping right-hand turn we were skate to skate, but at the last the road straightened and I was going just that much faster to win the sprint. As it turns out, the three of us were all skating for position in the same advanced age category. This year marks a repeat of last year’s first place win, so history does repeats itself. A nice race to win with much help from others in the advanced pack, old and new friends alike

2009-07-15T18:06:00.000-07:00

New York City... Skyscrapers and everything

Well, I came to NYC with hopes of squeezing in a bit of skating between meetings at the 100th Anniversary NAACP Convention. So naturally I brought my rec skates thinking "NYC, no big deal; a little city skating, I'll be better off with the heal brake anyway."

WTF? This town is not flat, certainly not if you're skating Central Park. I really needed to stop and tighten my skates before heading up the second hill in the park. Anyway, I brought my camera and made a little video for ya'll. Enjoy.

2009-07-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

monday, july 5, 2009
Badger Blather

I knew I was in for an adventurous 24 hours in deciding to travel to the Badger State games with Jan. With Jan driving! Jan who comes equipped with a half inch thick pile of MapQuest and Google map printouts, plus “Gert” the talking GPS on the dashboard and still manages to need at least one 180 turn to find the correct highway to Appleton, WI. I think the driving had me lulled into thinking the wildness was almost at an end when close to the race site we drove through a wind farm. Those big blades kept turning and turning and turning… so beautiful. I was mesmerized, not thinking that wind turbines meant wind, lots of wind, constant wind. I should have realized we were going to be in for a wild race the next day, but the blades kept turning, turning, turning…

Surprisingly we made it to Appleton in great time. The hotel does the memory of the “Crust Motel” in Ashland proud and I’m pretty much off the hook for that one.

Race morning and the forecast said “breezy.” Breezy like a Wisconsiner says the course is relatively flat. HA! The wind was steady 20 mph across the course with gusts to 30, Jana was knocked off her skates when a gust struck just as she hit a small hole in the road.

The race started well and I was moving up on the second pack. I was upwind of the main line of skaters and as such I was blocked from the strong cross wind. Once I pulled into the line, a group just a few skaters up with Ken Huss and Margo made a move and the guy in front of me didn’t answer. I pulled around in an attempt to close the gap and that’s when I noticed the wind. I must have pulled for a mile thinking only one skater was behind me. I waved him to take the lead and found I had been pulling a line of eight or more. The last thing I heard as they dropped me was “Nice pull.” Oh those fatal early mistakes.

Photo credit: Posted by gaetano4140, on InlinePlanet.com

The new Badger course includes a long climb of maybe a mile and a third. The climb however must have been the equalizer, as Margo and Ken finished only 3 minutes in front of me and I skated solo for the last 8/9 miles. First time up the hill I took it easy and totally dropped a strong skater who on the flats was putting serious hurt on me. I coasted all the way down waiting for him to catch up and that is where a pack of four women caught us. The next few miles saw me with rejuvenated legs and all seemed fine, ‘cept the women kept the heat on and I soon started fading. I forced myself to hang until the turn home then let the pack get away. I was very happy to see Jana, making up for lost time, a minute or two behind me.

Some crazy ass thought struck me as I approached the hill a second time. From a mile out the hill appears as a wall of road seemingly rising straight up into the air. All I could think was I wanted to do anything but pound out the miles against that wind. I knew that climbing would stop me from thinking about the wind and a sense of relief overcame me. Maybe it’s just time to see the head doctor or maybe it’s all those A2A miles, but I have two or three different hill strides and I just kept rotating through them ‘til the top.

It’s wasn’t until crossing the line that the race director apologized for mistakenly changing the course that morning for a total of 29.9 miles instead of the normal 26.2. Ouch, I knew it hurt, but that made the 1:49 time more palatable. The bigger surprise came when I found out that Rainbo’s own Marcy Turek took first place overall. Beating out the men at their own game – sprinting. Nice going Marcy.

Overall the Barger Games puts on a good event even if it’s not on a course a flat-lander might call relatively flat.

2009-06-22T21:04:00.000-07:00

The Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Race

One more Big Granite under the belt and one more year wondering both how this race stays alive and how in the world did it ever end up in the middle of nowhere? Sorry Ashland fans – adjacent to the middle of nowhere. The answers are fairly simple; the race is dying and this may have been it’s last hurrah. As for its location it seems that nine years ago a gentleman in town thought is was a good idea, he liked skating and he knew how to make it happen. As things would have it from that beginning when over 500 skaters braved a black bear sighting on the course the race has been shrinking ever since. I’ve skated 6 of the nine Big Granites and have looked forward to its challenging hills, both up and down almost more than any other race. Next year however, without an angel, Big Granite may be no more. With attendance at an all-time low, roughly 75 skaters, the death knell is ringing. But there’s plenty of time to get blue in the face, this year’s trip up north was still just as much fun as any trip to Duluth.

While the weatherman was being very unfriendly to the Chicagoland area with floods and hail and power outages, we headed north into ever clearing skies. As the hours rolled on Jim M. began to get the hang of how fast he needed to move so as not to be left behind during our pit stops. By the time we reached Ashland the skies were clear, the wind gently blowing, and the temps were about 80. We first stopped in at race central to pick up our race packs and got the bad word about the low attendance.

Next it was off to see whether my motel pick would make me the brunt of every joke for the rest of the weekend. Would it be the cat-piss motel or wouldn’t it? Well the office was anything but hygienic smelling, what with three dogs running around, but the rooms where fine, though the mattresses were the loudest I have ever slept on. You know that race night toss and turn thing we all do? Ear shattering to say the least, earning the motel the new name of “Crust Motel” Good coffee but very short on hospitality when came to checkout.

Once again this year the team dinner was rudely interrupted by free alcohol. Last year it was a round of pink “wheel sucker” shots, this year a couple of tall heavily laced lemonade “wheel suckers.” Once again the sendees had no idea who the sender might be. Though half the way through these drinks I’m not sure we cared who the f sent them. Actually I can’t remember anything else about dinner.

Yes, Big Granite is a tough course and while the pavement is mostly in great shape those first few miles are spent climbing and as always my body was yelling at me all the way to the first left hand turn. Thank the wind gods, the head wind is now only a quartering head wind yet up another hill or two we go ‘til it seemed the body just wasn’t going to make it. But there we were suddenly at the second left hand turn and at the top of the course. We passed the offered water bottles without stopping and headed down wind and slightly down hill. The legs started getting into the swing of things and it was just about at this point I noticed that Ken Huss and I had dropped Guy at an undisclosed location and picked up Cheri, a WI skater I believe. Ken, Cheri and I took pretty much equal turns pulling and most times when the leader pulled off they were spent and needed everything they had to hang on to the back of our small pack.

Ken led us into the big downhill and accelerated a bit going into it. I took it easy at top knowing that Ken wasn’t going to go too far without two thirds of his pack. As is often the case I was a bit more stable the second time down the hill. Most of the rest of the race was fairly uneventful right up until three young bucks caught up with us with two miles to go. Prior to that our group had swollen to five as we picked up two skaters a guy and a gal, with Cheri, they were the number two and three women in the pro/advanced race. The young bucks, leaders of the fitness category, promptly took over the lead of our pack and start playing leader games, standing up, pulling out and jumping back in, only they lacked the talent to play these games safely. Well one of the bozos jumped back into the pace line knocking the other gal in our pack off her skates but thankfully into the grass very likely changing the outcome of the women’s race.

The field sprint was as surprising to me as anyone. Over my last few races I’ve had a bit of sprint building in me and I was able to hold off most challengers at the finish line for a fine final 100 yards. Though I have been cutting it a bit close on my goals; I said I would be fine with anything under 1:30; remember Big Granite is a tough course. When I made it over to the results board it had me at 1:29:16. Good thing I sprinted at the end or I wouldn’t have made my time goal. The day was essentially won by Rainbo’s own Gary Blank. Seemingly out of nowhere, the unknown Gray sits at the front of the lead pack, pulling for most of the race and in the end he wins the field sprint to take second over all. Great job Gary.

The drive home was mostly uneventful; the usual 90 mph drive time lengthened by the van slowing down to a sane and sensible 85. The usual stories from Cale with the usual response from Jan and Guy, the eating of the skittles and the super human bladder control of our fearless team leader.

What then can be done to save Big Granite? More skaters with a love of good skating. Come on skaters, let’s help them make it a full ten years. Hope to see you there next year.

2009-03-29T11:23:00.000-07:00

Back to the Dome… without the Dread

Here we go again, back to the scene of the grind. Three years ago I took the trip to the dome, only to be humbled by the 71 laps and the pace set by my teammates. This year would turn out to be a different trip altogether. First off I moved up to shotgun from back bench seat in the team "party van." That seat allows the occupant free access to peruse Cale's expansive collection of "Best of" music CD's from the golden age of "Best of" CD's - 1959 to 1979. (Can you say "Folk Rock" anyone?)

The event, as always, is well run and continues to be the best venue for spectator participation of any race I've been to. First thing in the morning is the pro and advanced individual time trial. Margo and I arrived from breakfast about 20 laps into the race. With Team Rainbo racers passing our viewing point every minute to minute and a half we followed their unfolding race stories in 10 second snippets as leads changed, packs where dropped or formed, and as individual heroics unfolded. In the best spirit of the sport Coach Dave, in his first marathon and while clearly toast, more than twice took faster Rainbo skaters under his wing and pulled outstanding laps to give his team mates a rest and a fling around the dome. We could see from our vantage point that he close to halved his average lap time during these late race laps draining himself of the ability to finish strong, but putting Cale, Gary and Steve-O in better positions overall. Fabulous job Dave.

Come the afternoon it's time for the Team Time Trial event where 5 person teams work together for their best possible time. Four members of each time need to complete the 71 laps together in order for the team to complete the course. Coming into this event I carried the memory of being the weak link in a five person team and I was determined not to let that happen again this year. Three years makes a big difference and I'm skating much stronger now so for me the event went without a hitch. We finished within our window of hopeful probability between 1:25 and 1:30 (actual time 1:29:53). ;-) So all is golden. We decided from the start that Team Pain was not going to win the day, what with Cale having skated the individual time trial earlier, John not having the hi-tech wheels for best performance on the slick coated concrete floor and Kevin not having skated since September.

The random staggered starting order placed us forth so we were off quickly and racing. A wonderful feature this year was the addition of our support team/pit captain. Dirk, fresh from a PB in the advanced event kept lap times throughout and kept track of our remaining laps as it came down to finishing. Thanks Dirk, that was such a help. We put together a good skating order based on height so this big 6'1" windbreaker didn't have to sit out in the wind all day. We switched it up a bit later in the race as I was skating strong and, I'm told, it is such a pleasure to skate behind me and out of the wind.

Dirk kept us honest by calling out lap times and encouragement. We held pretty close to our 70-74 second per lap goal; even with our having to skate most of the day out away from the wall. The left lane being the passing lane we where moved out to circle wide almost every lap. I really think we skated 30 miles to everyone else's 26.2 due to the wider course, still though we were within our target time.

Closing in on two thirds though the race Team Pain made its move. Kevin being hit by leg cramps in the calf, and John's need to work extra hard due to his wheels forced both skaters to push through incredible odds to finish with the team. Cale by far took the lion's share of the pulling and I was proud to be able to get up there and pull multiple laps in a row late in the game. All in all it was a positive attitude that we were all going to finish together, no matter how much it hurt someone, that kept us together. And hurt it did, John was in a panic to get to a garbage can after the finish as he puked out his answer to Team Pain. He gave the ultimate sacrifice, lunch. I'm happy for my accomplishment but prouder of my teammates who pushed through to beat Team Pain; in the end time mattered less than teamwork.

As I mentioned Cale signed up to complete two marathons in one day, what he didn't realize was he was going to complete a third before we arrived home. Half way through Wisconsin, it began to blizzard. Snow blowing horizontal across the highway for hour after hour. We were reduced to driving less than 30 mph, hear that all Rainbo van riders, Cale was driving at less than 30 mph!! Add to that the windshield wipers clogging with snow and streaking, not clearing, the windshield and you'll know how much we needed "The Greatest Folk Hit's of the 50's and 60"s" for Cale to sing along with. Still sitting shotgun I helped watch for when the lane markers would show through the snow so we could stay on the road. We saw spinouts, cars on their sides, fire trucks, tow trucks, an SUV turn 90 degree to the direction of traffic right in front of us all as the party van plowed its slow and steady course back home. By the Illinois line the snow had turned to rain and we felt like we were flying by driving 60 mph.

All in all another great social and sportive weekend with the team. Go Rainbo!

2008-10-06T17:42:00.000-07:00

Optimism trumps the day, A2A 2008

It should have be obvious from the start that the optimism and high spirits of my car ride from Atlanta into Athens with the Starykowiczs, and Starkowicz-to-be, Daniel would be what it took for me to leg out my third best time in seven successful 87-mile, A2A adventures. Truly this event is beyond racing, this is traveling. Our ride the day before the race was filled with jokes, stories and plans for races to come. All thought of pain and endurance was put on hold as the rolling countryside succumbed to the flattening effect of riding in an SUV.

Each year there seems to be a small but ever-changing cadre of Team Rainbo members showing up to test themselves against the Georgian, hills, heat and headwind and this year was no exception. This year was slightly different as there were no novices among us. Half this crew of skaters, Pete Starykowicz and Marcy Turek, came to show what they were made of. Tom Grosspietsch and I came to hold what we were made of together. For me this would be the challenge of the day as having taken a serious, helmet-smashing fall a week earlier, I was on race morning still experiencing bouts of dizziness. Had I also not been fighting the remains of a head cold I might have rethought attacking the 40 mph downhills lurking throughout the course while also struggling to control my equilibrium.

Be that as it may I came to the starting line with a shit-eating grin of determination as Tom and I tried to buck each other up. Not even Eddy in a bee costume, which he wore through the first ten yards of the race, lightened the mood much. I promised to stay with Tom and finish together then promptly dropped him after the zigzag route out of Athens. Sorry Tom. A few miles out of town is where the pace lines really settle into a nice groove and this is where you can tell if you are with the right group or not. Usually there will be a split and several will go off the front. It’s here where I realized Tom was not with me and here where the low registration numbers really began to show. Whereas two years ago this group would have been 35-50 skaters we were less than 20. There were no splits larger than one or two people and they kept being swallowed up.

What was really odd, and it must have taken me more than an hour to figure out, was that nobody could climb the hills. I pride myself in being able to skate slow up hill so as not to expend too much energy but these folks, from all over the country were almost standing still. What finally clued me in were the downhills. I needed to tuck down way below the person in front of me to maintain my position. What was the issue? My tiny 100 mm wheels! Everyone else was on 110’s and shooting downhill at breakneck speeds, I’m sure the 50 mph barrier has been broken on Silverhill; those suckers are fast. However, few people it seems have the strength to push those 110’s uphill. Against all my previous experience I had to pull out of the pack to causally skate uphill all the while passing the pace line as they struggled.

Somewhere in the first hour there came a familiar constant chatter from the pack and I knew we had picked up Bob Harwell, in fact everyone knew we had picked up Bob as he is skating’s number two ambassador of good will right after Eddy Matzger and barely edging out George Quinn. From then on Bob and I skated all but the last ten miles together. After the 38 mile break we had a nice group which withered down to sometimes one or two other skaters. However once the 52 milers started to show up on the road, you can tell them by their fresh legs, Bob kept up a steady diet of “trying-to-hang-on” at some point that became too rich for my blood, and thankfully most times Bob would drop off and I’d slowly reel him back in. At about mile 75 a Columbian skater caught us on a short steep incline that has bested me every year – read that as I “run” up the grass on the side of the road – he says, “ Keep your head up, come on we can work together and catch up.” Catch up to what I’m thinking. I believe I swore at him, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Earlier in the day I still had to deal with the dizziness thing and the lack of confidence I was felling because of it. As I mention the downhills were very fast and there are two in particular early on that are the stuff of nightmares. The first is a gentle downhill that gradually gets steeper over almost a two mile stretch. By the bottom you are really hauling ass and this year the pavement near the bottom has been roughed up a bit. I can tell you my head was having none of this after about a mile. Luckily for me my 100 mm wheels meant I could uncrouch a touch a fall back. BUT NO, coming right behind me was another train and soon I was being pushed downhill by any number of folks on faster, bigger wheels. So I waved them to my right and I moved left. Clear, simple instructions, yes? Well I guess not as the whole line moved left with me. So I signaled them to go left and moved right. You guessed it; again the hand was right there on my back and throughout this dance we are all accelerating. I revert to yelling instructions to the fellow behind me, practically giving him my medical history before I can escape the train and calm the sense of vertigo. Of course by this time we’re at the bottom of the hill and the train rushes half way up the next hill on its own momentum. It’s early however so I don’t realize they can’t climb so I chase after them only to overshoot almost the whole line.

The next scary big downhill is later in the skate than I remember and it sneaks up on me such that I don’t realize I’m on it until two thirds of the way down. Unremarkable but for the fact that this hill has a 90 left hand turn at the bottom and I’m just noticing that fact with total disbelieve almost as I enter the turn. Do I tuck to get a better turning radius? No. I shout “on your left” and “coming over” as I slide from the left hand lane into the center of the road. Fortunately, everyone else was either too scared to head down at full speed or sliding sideways with me so we all made it through. Why I have never encountered oncoming traffic at this turn I’ll never know.

I did fall once, on one uphill where we were moving so slowly that when I clicked skates with the fellow in front I was able to put a knee down on the grass and stand back up without losing a spot in the line. (Sorry to the gent who took a bigger tumble trying to avoid me, maybe my foot was still on the road. I don’t think he made it back with us.) There was one near spill when on a very flat section of road I simply turned my head and totally lost my balance. Though I managed to stay on my feet this was a frightening experience and then on Rosser Road, I was so fatigued that I tried to run up by leaning forward and had to run just to keep from falling on my face for the second time in two weeks.

As I mentioned Bob and I were a team and together pulled into the mild headwind for 20 of the last 50 miles. Bob had more gas and finished three minutes ahead of me all of which he made up in the last 10 miles so I really slowed down there at the end. The last of the humorous stories comes as I approach check point six. I’m coming up slow and turn down water, but I call out for oranges and a volunteer, bless his heart, runs out with two oranges. Not quartered, but full oranges. What am I going to do with whole oranges? I bet I was a bit rude as I asked for slices. I’m sorry if I offended. I was quickly obliged, most likely without me having to fully stop, and I was gingerly on my way. Gingerly is a skating stride that only those that have skated for close on six hours up on down endless hills will understand.

Those last few miles are were I became to really draw upon the optimism of the weekend. Focusing on being close and not on the few miles of foot jarring pavement I still had to skate, I looked for every landmark to convince myself that I was getting closer to finishing. The cops in Atlanta were great as always, stopping all traffic so I could j-skate through the middle of five-way intersections. Once I crossed the cobblestone plaza and gingerly stepped jumped the curb onto the side street leading to the park I got my first glimpse of downtown and a big boost of energy. I knew home was in site, though not before the car that while trying to park ran me into the curb. I squeaked by yelling my lungs. After that can you believe at the end of it all, the finish line was moved 100 yards further uphill, I felt my last bit of energy drain as I crossed the old line and believe I finished by the grace of the day’s only tailwind. I ended the day with a time just over 6 hours; 6:11:05 to be exact and was met by my support crew of one, Kathy with my six back of Guinness which I was able to dole out to those who made it such a memorable day of travelling.

Thanks to all those responsible for continuing such a unique event. Oh that optimism on the ride into Athens? Pete Starykowicz won the day in a three way sprint to the (moved) finish line. Way to go Pete.

2008-10-02T10:00:00.000-07:00

Keep the helmet side up!

I can often be heard encouraging others at the starting line of various races with the above imperative. As last Thursday turned out I could stand to heed my own advice. Planning to get in my second long skate of the week prior to A2A, I sent out a call to anyone to see if they would be skating and if they’d like to meet up on one of our north side trails. As it happened, Cale was up for a long skate and offered to join in for the entire 30 miles. I choose the North Branch trail as it is far more interesting in terrain then two laps of the straight and narrow Old Elm trail. The downside to North Branch currently is as it winds through the forest preserves the recent huge storms have left the trail covered in leaves, twigs, at times caked mud and stones. Anyway, I wasn’t too concerned as I had skated the entire trail on Monday and if anything the bike traffic would start to crush the leaves and twigs into power making it easier to skate.

I can’t say that I was unhappy when right off Cale offered to pull and as the miles clicked over he never gave up the lead position. I might have been forewarned about the events to come as a mere 10 yards into our skate I hit a rock hard and had to work to plant both feet back on the ground. After that we skated the next 10 miles to Devon Ave without incident. We were clocking a faster pace then I had skated on Monday which fit into my training schedule leading into my cool down week. On our return trip north neither of us needed to stop for more water so we breezed past the cars and to finish the northern third of the trail. North to Dundee Road and back would be a total of 10 miles. The pace was brisk and I was feeling great. Admittedly my mind was on the roads in Atlanta and what the pace line size might be over the last 40 -50 miles of Georgian hills. I was not concentrating on skating through the leaf and twig strewn trail in Illinois on which I just happened to be skating. I’m then noticing that I’m laying face down in those Illinois leaves and twigs and trying to figure out if I’m dreaming or I’m a GI Joe action figure left on the ground by some careless youngster. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I have some recollection of being helped up by Cale and a biker and picking some debris off my face. (More on that in a minute.) Somehow I’m wiping my face with my bandana, but I have no idea how I got it out from my under my helmet.

The story as I heard it later from Cale is he hears me going down with a most descriptive “Oh Shit!!” Of course it takes him a few seconds to stop, what with all of the leaves, and as he’s returning he describes me as a sack of potatoes on the trail, no movement, no thought whatsoever for how I’m splayed out across the pavement. The biker comes around the corner, and as luck would have it we’re friends and he says later that I was still not moving for 20 -30 seconds after that. I do start to stir and all though this time Cale has fought his desire to pull off a leaf that is stuck to my face. I think that is what I like so most about Cale. When it’s my time and he’s around he’ll make sure I’m presentable.

Based on my earliest recollection of the events after my fall I may have lost about 5 minutes of memory as I only remember from the time when I recognize Lance, my biker friend. Once steady on my feet I’m ready to skate the last mile back to the car and get cleaned up. Remember I have no clue that I’m actually hurt. Cale is, understandably, a bit unnerved by this but I make it back in one piece. When you consider that I’ve been standing for a few minutes in skates without wobbling it’s probably not that surprising. What doesn’t make it back in one piece is my helmet. Wow!! It’s cracked in two places and you can see in the picture a big chuck broke out of the side. It was really a shame to toss it after taking the photo, but it did its job and I’m very grateful.

It did take a trip to the hospital to prove that I was OK, yet I still feel slighted by not having the doc sign an affidavit stating that in his words he pronounced me “normal.” It may be some time before I’m heard to tell others to “Keep the helmet side up.” I may just concentrate on myself for awhile. Thanks to Cale and to everyone for the well wishes and for Kathy for not even mentioning me giving up skating.

2008-09-14T20:25:00.000-07:00

Personal Best…

By more than seven minutes

What a day for racing. Saturday’s 13^th “running” of Duluth’s Northshore Inline Marathon featured a modest tail wind and cool yet comfortable temperatures. Coming off of two sub-par years, I was determined that this was going to be the year to once again get myself into position to metal. Of course for me that means age category metals not pro, elite or open. As my weakness has always been getting off to a good start I decided to ignore the odd-ball, chip-to-chip timing scheme used in Duluth and line up at the front of Wave A and try to hang on as the rabbits zipped passed me. Margo Carvell lined up with me as did John Silker.

It was a good strategy as I found myself close to the middle of the lead pack a mile or two out. However, the road surface is rough for the first six miles or so and neither Margo nor I had yet set up a rhythm what with all the shifting going on, so at times she was five of six skaters ahead of me and or I ahead of her. At about mile four John Silker came steadily up the left-hand shoulder with John Mclinn in tow. I jumped in between them and we picked up Margo and quickly we were setting a solid pace. Somewhere in there Mclinn dropped off and the pavement smoothed out. Silker and I became separated and I spent the next few miles in the main pace line. We were at this time still about 100 - 150 strong with much slinky action working to tire out those of us in the middle of the pack. For a good part of this time I was in behind a female Flanders skater who seemed quite capable of letting the gap grow before she chased it down. I was wearing down mentally with the accelerations and was very glad to once again see big bull John Silker steadily making progress on the left. He gladly took a spot in front of me in the pace line and proceed to ignore the gaps and simply and steadily closed the gap each time, helped at times by impatient skaters behind us who would jump into the gaps as they opened.

John and I were of the same mind by this time, around mile eight, every second or third time the line would collapse on itself and slow, we’d move out and move up without having to change our pace. As the line would getting moving again, we’d jump in 10 to 20 skaters ahead of our previous place. At some point it became clear that the hand on my back was often Margo’s. Though I rarely saw her, she John and I skated as a unit for almost the entire race.

Very few times during the race did I feel like I wasn’t going be able to keep the pace, even though I was skating at close to my maximum. My average speed over the entire 26 miles being just shy of 21 mph. Besides the awesome experience of constantly juggling positions with 75 - 100 other skaters for over an hour the race was relatively uneventful - that is if you allow an hour of pure exhilaration to be labeled uneventful. I saw only one spill near me and only clicked skates once. That once was with John, when I tried to move in behind him and cut it too close. John is so big I felt like I simply bounced off him. He didn’t miss a beat.

At the finish, Margo took off up the final hill with me then John in tow. I caught her on the downhill as I continued to skate down, however Margo tucked in behind another rabbit and was out of the sudden headwind as we came around the convention center. I played it safe and took the turn wide knowing where the good pavement would be. I then turned on what I thought was a sprint but the big bull wasn’t finished. Silker came up on my right and I didn’t know where to look to find any more leg speed to reel him back in.

In the end John beat me by about 10 feet, Margo had me by a second, though the chip-to-chip timing chances those results slightly. Overall I am elated to come home with a time of 1:15:16, as the title says 7:30 faster than my previous best. And while I did not meet my goal of first in my age group I was 4th, and in Duluth that is still medal territory. But wait there’s more! Team Rainbo won the team challenge by 10 minutes over the second place team so I come home with two medals, one being that coveted first place award in the Team Challenge. What a weekend for racing!

2008-08-27T16:04:00.000-07:00

Out There Solo for 45 miles

With Duluth coming up in two weeks and A2A three weeks after that I couldn't see being able to organize another long skate up in Rockford; soooooo. I took to the North Branch trail all by my lonesome this morning. The big difference between many of my long skates and today is my need to pull the entire way. Normally I would endeavor to skate with at least one other skater as my height, 6'1", makes headwinds very trying.

Cale Carvell mentioned after our 60 mile practice that no matter how long you're skating that last half hour, that last 3 miles are always the most trying and today was no exception. After almost 3 hours on skates I hit the south trail head, turned around and knew that the last 7 1/2 miles back to the car would be into the wind. While more than half those miles were in the woods, half would be out in fields exposed to the wind. Overall I averaged 13.5 mph over 45 miles, that's with stopping for busy streets, stop lights and three brief water stops. That also includes almost hitting two young deer who didn't know what to make of a guy on skates and only just at the last moment turned to run across the trail, but each time they pulled up short and changed directions. Lots of fun in the sun.

OK, now to rest the feet and the legs and get ready for the big show in Duluth.

2008-08-17T19:18:00.000-07:00

About that 60 mile skate

The team organized a distance skate out northwest in the rolling hills of Woodstock and Hebron; pronounced in Illinois as He-bren. Three of the four team members who live out that way, Marcy, Kirt and John put together roughly a sixty mile route through the county highways and byways of Illinois farmland. Funny thing about Illinois, if you go to the extremities of the state you can find hills. Yep, we found hills alright, some where long newly paved down hills of more than a mile. Others were poorly paved grueling up hills. Everyone seemed to be suffering a bit in the foot arena by the last few miles. I was even suffering a bit of mental doubt about tackling A2A again this year. But I kept telling myself that these skates will make it all the more manageable come early October in Georgia.

Besides the fore mentioned team members Cale, Stevo, Tom G. and Andrew came to skate. Andrew on 3 hours sleep. Needless to say Andrew being the newest skater in the bunch managed only 30 miles, but in that he achieved a lot. I think he learned more about pack skating and his limits today than he could have at any other practice. Tom showed that he is a monster of the distance skate and Cale began to find the thrill in skating all day long.

As with most team events, the post race festivities where as enjoyable as the skating. John grilled burger and brats and everyone contributed brews and salads. I knew I had to eat afterward but the body wasn’t much up to the digestion process. That second sandwich sat pretty heavy.

The odd thing about these long skates is my legs are so-o-o-o uncomfortable for a few hours afterward. I’m exhausted, but there's no comfortable position for my legs, so there's no sleep. By tomorrow I’ll be planning the next long practice. A2A, here I come once again.

BTW: The image is a chalk pastel reflection of what many of the roads looked like today.

2008-08-08T18:10:00.001-07:00

A funny thing happened on the way to a 60 mile practice skate.

Just a short thought. I posted a notice to the team about organizing a longer skate instead of our intensive shorter practices and funny thing. Nobody replied. I guess that showed me.

Here's a morning shot early during A2A, 2003. Looks like fun doesn't it.

2008-07-27T20:48:00.001-07:00

Chicagoland Inline Marathon

I don’t normally write about the view from the middle of the standings as most the action takes place ahead of me, and most of the fun happens behind me in the tutu division. No offense to the tutu wearers either, it’s fun to skate back there; lot’s more time for conversation. This race however is a different story. The combination of a very technical course (lots of turns) with a large field of skaters at, or just above, my ability made for an exciting race.

From the start I decide that I was going to give up on being overly cautious and try to fight my way into a good position at the gun. That was easier said then done as fella’s like John Silker and Ken Huss are busy moving through all the open spots before they close up. Each of them are deftly maneuvering through the aggressive crowd of skaters and it takes the first uphill after a left-hand turn for me to latch onto Ken’s group. John is long gone. I’m going to have to continue to work on those starts.

The course is challenging but manageable, the biggest unknown though is how will the skaters around me handle the turns? It quickly becomes obvious that few of the outdoor skaters in my pack cornering down very well, and the indoor skaters are unfamiliar with uphill or downhill 90 degree turns. This turns out to be an advantage for me later in the race. The first lap of the course was, as always for me, very hard. I normally have to push through some sort of muscle barrier at about the 12- 15 minute mark. The second and third lap passed pretty much without incident, however we did pick up and then drop Tom D'ellaringa but it was all of his own making. Instead of getting onto the back of our pack, he took the lead, ALL THE WAY UP THE HILL. Thanks man, but next time think of yourself a little bit.

It was in the forth lap that things got interesting. I pulled through to the round-about in the AT&T grounds and then pulled off, but suddenly my legs wouldn’t move anymore. I tried to hang on but couldn’t. The train was leaving the station and I had to stand up for a breath. I pushed on but it wouldn’t come. Then I just started skating and looked up. The pack wasn’t pulling away, but I wasn’t gaining. So I took it easy, knowing that I cornered better than the pack, plus I was still climbing easier then they were. So they went around the right hand turn out of AT&T and I gained a bit on my turn. Then they started up the hill and I put my head down and closed the 20 yards between us as we climbed up hill, getting to the pack just as they slowed for the 180 turn back down. I was glad to take that turn slow and wasn't complaining about being at the back. I still had a hard time keeping the legs moving on the down hill however and had to coast a bit. This opened a gap again which I was hoping the Team “Speed Weevil” skater behind me would come around and fill so I could continue to recover. No going, but we where coming up onto another turn. As the pack takes it wide I, like a good indoor skater should, cut the turn and end up right on the wheel of the pack once again. At this point I hear complements from the skater behind me for the slick move. We are again heading uphill and this time I sit in the pack and get some recovery going.

The final lap then is uneventful expect for the pain and the noticeably shorter pulls. I’m now tucked in with a female Flanders skater that I was unable to find after the race. As we came around the last turn into the uphill finish my turning ability allowed me to place myself in the middle of the pack, just out of the wind. Two thirds of the way up the hill I think "it’s now or never" and jumping out, I get low and take the rest of the hill taking the pack by surprise. Then noticing a single skater between me and the finish I can hear Tommy, our announcer say, “We’ve got a little sprint here.”

Glenn Koshi’s shot captures my “sprint” form – that’s me on the right. Not much to look at but it did the trick. I won the sprint with a little hawk at the finish, to my horror though I look down for the line and watch as I shoot out my right foot, its then I notice my chip is on the other ankle. Still, while our times are identical I’m listed ahead in the standings. And that’s the story from the middle of the pack where there still can be a bit of drama if you look for it. Happy skating.

2008-07-27T20:46:00.000-07:00

Road America - 20K - June 14, 2006

Ok, how many of you can say you've raced at one of the top five road tracks in North America? Well, now I can. This was Superbike weekend at Road America, in Wisconsin, where track speeds reach 180 mph. Just the sound of those powerful engines speeding by is enough to make one's palms sweat before a race. If you haven't been there it's a 4 mile loop with long fast down hills, all with turns at the bottom and three steep up hills. The conditions where perfect for racing for this the first running of the Road America 13 and 20K race. Maybe about 90 folks came out and Adams Inline showed Team Rainbo that maybe the hill work at Sears needs to be a bit more intense - Adams took two of the top three spots. (That would be yours truly, second back on the right.)

2008-07-27T20:45:00.000-07:00

Mystery Marks of the Metrodome - April 24, 2006

Just back from a one-of-a-kind marathon, the Metrodome Inline Marathon. Indoors, 71 laps of smooth, almost but not quite slippery concrete floors and when I get off the floor to take off my skates here are these crazy marks on my wheels. They’re only on the inside of my right skate and I noticed a few other skaters with the same markings. Odd. Eerie. What could they mean?

Well they don’t come from kicking trash cans, which I almost did maybe one or two hundred times. And there’s no way I pronate THAT much. My wheels look like spin paintings, only with oil shooting out from the bearings. Though closer inspection shows that the marks are more like rubber or tar than oil. I’d say that they come from the expansion joint in the floor, which are filled with rubber.

Anyway as part of the "B" team for Team Rainbo we turned in a respectable time, 1:27 and change. With three of us never having skated the dome before we’re quite happy. The highlight of the day was seeing our own “Pistol” Pete Starykowicz win the individual time trial, then come back and help power the Rainbo "A" team to a forth place finish.

Lot’s of fun in MN.

Keep the helmet side up.

2008-07-27T20:39:00.000-07:00

Close to a Washout -April 2, 2006

With many of the committed skaters off to Orlando for the Disney marathon I took it upon myself to gather those of us left behind out to the practice grounds. With the time change I thought maybe making practice a bit later to let it warm up outside. Though a look at the forecast said, “get it in early or never”. Bravely making out to Hoffman Estates in the 15 mph winds was one thing, but seeing the large band of yellow and red heading towards us on the radar was another. It was get the skates on and skate quick. The wind on top of the hills was just short of wild, and going downhill into it was work, no rest here. Herb and I, only two of us ended up making it, got one lap in before it started, within three minutes sprinkles turned into steady rain.

The radar image here shows a black and white circle in the middle, that’s our practice area 45 minutes after we packed up. Moral: In April act quick, the streets wont be dry for long.

Keep the helmet side up!

2008-07-27T20:36:00.000-07:00

OK, that was the mid-term election.

We're totally onto something else now.

2006-10-27T10:07:00.000-07:00

Plenty of stuff coming, after the election.