'Cross gut

While cyclocross is painful, it's also short. Roadies call it a 'pukefest'...which doesn't seem too far off.

After every race, or even a hard interval set off-road on a cross bike, I end up with a stomach that doesn't stop churning/cramping for hours, and sometimes for the rest of the night. I've heard people describe this as 'cross gut', but haven't found anyone who has a solution, or even knows where it comes from. I have never gotten these symptoms from MTB races, crits, road races, or anything else really.  I've been in search of an answer, and have found a few strategies thanks to some friends, some coaches, and the good old internets.

Strategy #1: Beer

 Inspired by former Richard Sachs-RGM rider Dan Timmerman is the beer strategy. After Canton Cup last year, I remember talking to him about how his stomach is only settled by '6 beers as soon as possible after the finish'. Hopefully he didn't have to drive himself home.

This strategy is definitely the most fun, but only 'fixes' the problem in that I don't care as much. Admittedly, only 3 beers were quickly drunk right after the race, but I was unable to put any more away without getting nauseous. Presumably, Timmerman can just get back into his pain cave and push through to finish a sixer, but I'm not man enough for this strategy. Maybe I need a beard. 

Strategy #2: Go Hungry

While a 2:30 race start is convenient from a sleep standpoint, it makes eating hard. One strategy that many folks employ is to eat absolutely no solid food for at least 3 hours before a race. This strategy seems to help out - though the fact that my stomach stays in a knot well beyond when my stomach would have cleared tells me it might be something else. That said, from a 'pukefest' standpoint, I've continued to not eat solid food within a few hours of any race or hard workout.

Strategy #3: Cool Down

Typically, cross races finish with an all-out effort, followed by promptly stopping and attempting not to die. So...cooling down? What? Why do those roadie goons hop back onto a trainer after their races? Don't they know we're done racing now? It's beer time, people!

However...those goons have a point. After Gloucester day 2 (which was a kidney-pounding, seated power course), I actually took the time to go back out on the road to re-ride my warmup route. It sucked, let me tell you, to keep spinning the legs, wearing not enough clothing, but boy did I do it...and it helped. I didn't experience any stomach cramps immediately afterward, and the effects seemed very mild throughout the evening. I could still tell that my guts weren't happy with me for what I'd done to them...but at no point did things get too uncomfortable.

So, for all my 'cross brethren that are cursed with stomach cramps, make sure to not eat too much, cool down well, and drink a beer when you're done. I'm also toying with the idea of trying out an inexpensive suspension post for bumpy FTP workouts on the cross bike. Will report back!

Euro-Cool

I'm constantly surprised by what's considered "cool" in cycling. While one of the most visible affectations is hipsterism in all its self-deriding transendental smarminess, I'll leave that up to better writers. Instead, my curiousity is piqued by "euro-cool". It amazes me that just about anything that Euro pro cyclists wear ends up being adopted on this side of the pond. In the long-standing American tradition of the creation myth, I present to you the origins of some of euro-cool's signatures. Some true, mostly lies, hopefully entertaining.

Shoe covers when it's not cold out


You wear shoe covers because of problems with sponsors' shoes not fitting your pigeon toes? Wear DMT shoe covers, over those Sidi's, son. 

Embrocation

Need some nerve stimulation at night to keep your EPO-thickened blood flowing through your veins? Embrocation is born, and magazines are named after it.

Cycling caps

Once upon a time, cyclists didn't wear helmets. As such, they got brain-freeze headaches any time it was cooler than 50f, and sweat blinded their vision above 80f. They needed something to hold down the wet lettuce they used to cool their heads. They needed something to block locusts from their eyes during the Paris-Cairo. One brilliant soul put on a dandy cap of some kind, then chopped the brim down until he could see.

White bar tape

Originally a sign of European royalty - white gloves, white collars, white tape. If you're too good to put your own chain back on, then your tape stays fresh. This also explains shaved legs (hiding no cat5 tattoos) and colored tires (riding only on clean, well-traveled roads).

Tubulars

Racers used to shoot up all kinds of dope. Racers had experiences likened to 'floating' while riding on silk-walled tubulars. When they rode clinchers in training...sober...they didn't experience this same sensation. Nor did they hear their tires 'singing'. Now, in the post-amphetamine era, nobody can tell much of a difference. Surprised?

Barends

In Europe, mountain biking was originated by porteurs carrying (portaging) objects between towns...over mountains. As their racks became too full, they needed extra appendages to hang cheese, bread and traditional Swiss Vuvuzelas. While most of the vestigial knobs have disappeared, two have remained, on the ends of the handlebar of many a UCI xc racer. 

I hope you learned something today.

Bike Racer Haiku #1

Safety pins strewn in

The back of my Subaru

Little reminders

Cross season

At this point in the cross season, I find myself asking this question frequently: why do we race these bicycle contraptions? It's really a hard question to answer - lay that question out to any serious amateur racer and you'll get a joke, a blank stare, or, rarely, an honest thought. Answers likely include "because I like to eat," "because my friends would heap endless shit on me if I didn't," and the sysiphustic "so I can upgrade." The last is probably the most telling - the mindless quest for the next level. It's like trying to reach nirvana - except we all know that we don't *actually* want to make that last upgrade and have our legs ripped clean off. I can tell you, with experience, that classy fellows like Tim Johnson and Trebon do it quickly and painlessly.

There's a disturbing change in my perception of my bikes mid-season. The enjoyment of pedaling circles down the road has been replaced with only 'workouts' and 'recovery rides'. Instead of admiring the craftsmanship, or relishing the finely-tuned position or choice of bar tape, the entire machine becomes a tool that has deals only in suffering. The more I endure on these bikes, the more they heartlessly respond with speed, one bone-shaking straightaway at a time. By November, I become unable to think about any component on a race bike separate from any other - all merge to become a double-edged sword - a heartless weapon with a singular purpose.

Maybe just once, I'll find a bike that I'll never race or train on - one that will only provide me joy and freedom. Until then, I'll commune with my steeds by smashing the pedals, and trying to keep them upright.