Thursday, October 22, 2009

Calfee

Finally, Jim came to his senses and decided to get his frame fixed. Don’t get me wrong, internal cabling is sick, just not when the paint starts to bubble on the aluminum inserts-which could also be due to the fact that his bike is 2+ years old.

Since I’m living on the coast now I offered to take his bike down to Calfee. After all, he did drive me all the way to Los Altos one night to snag a pair of EC90s.

Brady and I hopped in the West Coast Exploder and headed down.



Brady spent most of the drive farting in my lap. Karma?

Highway 1 was breathtaking so I lit a few candles and put on some Luther Vandross.



After a few wrong turns and a call to Calfee I arrived. The shop looked pretty low-key from the outside.



I went in and headed up to the office. The place was packed with frames of every type. I introduced myself to one of the employees and he took me on a tour.

The paint room.





The finishing room.



I asked him about the green and black Pinarello. He agreed they were beautiful but said the construction was nish nish.

The molding room.



This is where they mold the carbon to make the lugs.

This is the carbon.



There were also some bamboo bikes for a project in Africa.



Then, there were the bamboo bikes for America.



Near the entrance there was a tandem fresh from Interbike.



It was loaded with Super 11s and a $500 Edge Carbon stem. Total cost was around $18,000. No comment.

I chatted with the guy about the best carbon bikes. He suggested a lugged carbon bike. Look, Time, Parlee, and of course Calfee to name a few.

He said Orbeas are about the most common frames they see. The company has a great warranty policy but I suppose if you have that many of your bikes breaking you might need one.

According to him the Italians don’t seem to have a warranty policy. They had fixed a De Rosa recently with a cracked seat tube. The guy was climbing out of the saddle and when he sat down it cracked. De Rosa said he could buy a replacement for 1500 euro. Che cazzo!

The Scott Addicts have weak aluminum dropouts so they see a ton of those.

We ended up back near the front of the shop.



I thanked him and headed out to the car.

Brady was happy to be going back home.



Tuesday, October 13, 2009

On the Program...

At the first race I lasted more than a lap (1.5 laps) I met a guy named Mario. He was a Sicilian who worked on a U.S. military base in Belgium. His son was in the race.

As I caught my breath we began chatting. He happened to mention going to a cycling doctor. My first thought was "Belgian cycling doctor? Is he trying to get me on a program?"

Mario suggested a doctor 30k from Gent. He had seen Contador at the doctor’s before. Now he had my attention so I wrote down the doctor’s info.

After I got home I looked the doc up. According to his Twitter he was about to head to the Tour of Missouri. I messaged him but never heard back.

Then, two days before I was to leave Belgium I called his office. He said he could squeeze me in the following evening. He said I could ride, just not four hours.

The next morning I woke up and rode over to the Museeuw Factory with Jack. We rode about two hours total at a light pace.

I hung around the farm and rested until evening.

5 PM

The doctor is 30k away and there’s a serious headwind in that direction. I take the train in order to be fresh for the testing.

The train takes all of 15 minutes so I find his office then head to a café to pass the time. Around 7 I head over to his office.

When I walk into his office I notice a 2009 Tour de France jersey. It’s signed by Contador and addressed to the doc.



He takes my bike and puts it on the trainer.



He asks me what I’m doing in Belgium. I tell him I’m new to cycling but I want to be a PRO someday. He says I’m not too old.

I change into my kit as he takes a call. I hear him say “Alberto just sent me a ‘Thank You’ email. Lance never sent me one!” Okay, this guy’s legit.

I scope out the testing room.



Once off the phone he tells me to get on the bike. I begin pedaling lightly to warm up. He tells me to take off my shirt so he can attach the sensors. Well, so he can try and attach the sensors.

A few minutes later the test begins. He tells me to keep my cadence above 90 otherwise it won’t read. I begin at 100 watts. He pricks my ear for blood. Every 3 minutes the wattage is going to increase by 50 watts. He’ll prick my ear each time to read my lactic acid.

I get to 200 just fine. Around 250 I’m starting to feel it. I was hoping this point wouldn’t come so soon.

At 300 it’s starting to hurt. My cadence slows a bit but I tell him I can make it to 400, “I know it.”

At 350 I’m dying.

“Come on man…” he says repeatedly.

Halfway through my legs seize up. My cadence slows to nothing and I’m done. I feel weak for not going longer. I get off the bike and catch my breath.

During the test my heart rate went up to 220. I’ve always had a high heart rate, which I thought was a bad thing. He says it means my engine is still good.


I dry off and then sit down near his desk. I ask for a blood test so he draws some blood. He weighs me and measures my body fat. Then, he tells me to lose some weight.

He hands me the results from my test. They’re in German because the software was from T-Mobile. He says it will take two years to get to a Cat 1. So you’re saying there’s a chance…

He explains, “If you burn your tongue, give it 6 hours it’s back to normal, tear a muscle, 6 months, your liver, takes two years for the cycle, in order to start storing more energy. It just takes time for the body to adapt.”

We discuss the off season and what type of training I’ll be doing. He suggests lots of core work. He also says I need to get a job, something to keep me busy.

“You’re an athlete which means you’re crazy. You don’t want a lot of free time on your hands” he tells me.

He tells me to take three weeks off and then we’ll start a three month building phase. All the riding will be between 150-200 watts during those three months. By this point I’m just stoked he hasn’t told me there’s no hope.

I ask him about Contador and Lance.

“Contador never took on Lance as a mentor. That’s all he had to do. Lance would have taken him under his wing, but Contador refused. Also, there was the issue of the Livestrong bracelet. Contador never wore one and this always bugged Lance.”

“It was so hard seeing it happen. Contador would have won no matter what, but he had to do it his way. They both lost. They lost the best team in cycling.”

“It’s like when you have two children you love and they fight. You love them both so it hurts you to see them fight.”

I ask if he thinks Contador could win eight Tours. He dismisses this quickly.

“The record will never be beat. Lance is the greatest.”

I ask him if he’s ever tested Jens Voigt.

“No, but I tested George Hincapie and Hayden Roulston, they were the strongest, they should both be world champs.”

By this point it’s getting late. He checks the train station to make sure I can still catch one. He says otherwise he’ll have to drive me back to Gent. What a mensch!

There’s a train in 50 minutes so I gather my things and he shows me the door. I ride back to the station.

I notice a fritz place nearby. I’m starving so I head over. I order some with Samurai (spicy mayo) and Tunisian (super spicy). These are my last fritz so I savor them, but only half. I throw the rest away.

I head over to the station still on a high from the visit. I go up on the platform and ride around while waiting for the train.

The train arrives and takes me to Gent. Back at the farm I tell the guys all about the doc. Belgium’s been good to me.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Last Day...

I woke up around 9 and made some eggs. Around 11 Steve and I headed to the store. After that we went to the post office.

Steve rammed my rear wheel before we left the farm so it squeaks with every revolution.

Back at the house the U23 and Women’s World Championship TTs are on Sporza. This puts me right to sleep. Next thing I know the guys are getting ready to leave.

A few hours later Steve leaves with Jack and Evginey for a race in Evegem. This was the last I’d see of Jack and Evginey so I was a bit sad. With all of us so far from home we were the only family we had.





(Jack ended up winning the race.)

Steve got back around 5 to wish me off. Jean arrived and we packed my bike in the van.

We say our awkward, man goodbyes and I hop in the van with Jean. I smell Jupiler (Belgian PBR) on his breath. Ah, Belgium. Meredith Brooks’s “Bitch” plays on the radio.

Jean drops me off at the station and I hop on a train for Antwerp. I have a train from Antwerp to Amsterdam and then a flight out of Amsterdam the next day. I’m hoping I can check my bags in Antwerp since it’s part of my itinerary through KLM. No such luck. In fact, I end up paying for the train ticket because I wasn’t given the right confirmation number by Expedia.

Once in Amsterdam I find a luggage cart. I go and speak with a KLM rep about what had happened. Unfortunately I have to keep my bike box with me until my flight the next morning. So, like a nomad, I wonder the airport with my cart and luggage.

I wanted to stay up all night so I wouldn’t have trouble sleeping on the flight home. Around 11 I head to one of only two Starbuck’s in all of Holland. I pay the 250% euro markup for mediocre coffee without complaint. Then, I find a wall jack and plug in my laptop.

Midnight.

A guy comes up and asks me about my bike box. He’s interested in it for transporting video equipment. We chat for an hour or so. He works in TV and film and plans on moving to Santa Monica soon. We have some interesting political discussions about the Netherlands. I tell how much I enjoy the place and he tells me about the problems with the country’s unchecked socialism. They don’t seem as bad as our problems.

He also tells me that once a year a boat goes through the Amsterdam canals with a big claw. The claw scoops up all the bikes that have been thrown in the canal. He says they’re mostly stolen ones. He has to work the next day though so he decides to go catch some sleep.

I get another coffee and then play around on my laptop. Every hour or so I take a break and push my cart around the airport. The traffic at this time of night is surprising. Around 3 there are hordes of people coming through. They all look at my box suspiciously.

Around 6 I’m getting excited. By this point I’m completely wired and OCD thanks to the two large coffees. I go around the press shops checking out the cycling mags. I buy some in French and Dutch and a few newspapers.

At 830 I go through security. I realize I’ve been gone three months and have bought zero gifts for my family. I consider getting some overpriced clogs from the kiosks in the terminal but decide against it. America here I come.

I scope the crowd at the gate to see if there’s anyone I know. We board and I’m seated next to an older couple.

A few hours into the flight, after they saw me reading my French cycling mag, they ask “Are you French?”
“No, American.”
“Ahh, ve are German!” she replies.
You don’t say.

We chat for a while and then her husband pulls out a leather pouch with two decks of cards. He asks if I play gin.

We play a few games and his wife, Helga, smokes us. I fall back asleep for a while.

Finally, we arrive at SFO. All my luggage arrives and I make it through customs easily. My mom and sister are waiting for me with Brady, my dog.

Belgium’s been good to me.