An overview of a virtual cycling race, helping riders understand how much effort they expended; how this international event unfolded over time; and comparing their efforts to others’. I also took an exploratory look at how event participants’ post-event performance compared to those of people who had not taken part. This deserves more investigation.
The first, foremost thing you need in order to write a race report is, um, a race. And I finally, after 18 months of cowardice and lame excuses, have one to report. In order to make it happen, I knew I had to keep the pressure low – I decided to tackle a little sprint triathlon, one that was just a weekday night frolic, one where nobody knew me.
Of course, in order to do that, I had to either race with a paper bag on my head (impedes oxygen uptake like you wouldn’t believe, and totally not aero) or find a race that was about 4000 km away. So I did. Continue reading Ingredient #1→
It’s been a long winter. You would be forgiven for thinking I was so badly scarred by Tour de Vic last year that I went and hid under a rock for six months, and you wouldn’t be far wrong. I kind of fell apart after that ride and stopped training much, except for a last fling at the Tour de Foothills with Mom in November. With all the time I recovered from training, I rediscovered the joys of drinking beer with friends. And baking and eating bread. And cookies. And what my scale looks like when it’s begging for mercy. And why you shouldn’t wear argyle cycling shorts that are one size too small. (the warping of the check pattern graphically demonstrates how the shorts are being stretched.)
Anyway, I resolved to pull myself together and started training with Clint Lien and Mercury Rising Triathlon. It’s been great. I’m back to running (slowly), cycling (slowly) and swimming (less slowly, thanks to a great clinic with Clint and Coach Tenille Hoogland). Travel and the usual plague of minor injuries and bugs has punched a few holes in the schedule, but on the whole, I’m back into OK condition.
So, Clint finally noticed that although I was training, I kind of hadn’t registered for any races and I had to admit to him that I’m, um, afraid of racing. I hate racing. But we agreed that I should do the Shawnigan Lake Olympic tri to get back into the swing of things. I knew all the right things to tell myself. “Just getting going again. Just train through it. You won’t be fast, but nobody cares but you.”
Yesterday was the third annual Tour de Victoria, the brainchild of our local Giro d’Italia champion, Ryder Hesjedal. I’ve wanted to do this in previous years but didn’t for very good reasons, like an impending world championship race of my own, or just not being trained for the distance. This year, I hemmed and hawed all summer, leaning “against” as September passed and I spent far too much time travelling and far too little on my bike. So, I did the clever thing and asked people who were well-trained for the distance and very excited about the Tour whether I should do it. Well, duh. I entered the 140km event, which loops through Metchosin and around the Peninsula.
Our glorious summer ended with a cold stop on yesterday’s equinox. Really cold. It was showering lightly before the start of the race ride and went downhill from there (“This is not a race, it is a mass-participation cycling event,” said the announcer. “Riiiiiight,” murmured the crowd of MAMILs.) Continue reading Ryder Hesjedal’s Tour de Victoria 2013→
Back in Colorado Springs this week, and I might as well be on a different planet than the place I visited two weeks ago. Besides the tremendous damage done to the area by torrential rains and flooding during the week I was back at home, I couldn’t be staying in more different parts of the city. The plush luxury of The Broadmoor and the post-apocalyptic feel of Colorado Springs’ northernmost exurb are joined only by views of the Rockies and the wonderfully weird natural megaliths of the Garden of the Gods.
I’ve felt unsettled all week. Cherwell’s offices are in an area that must have taken a pummelling in the crash of ’08. Huge sweeping six-lane roads to nowhere have the occasional office building or hotel dotted alongside. The shells of buildings abandoned mid-construction are haunting. I didn’t bring a bike along, so have been confined to pitiful little runs. Each of them has begun on half-built suburban roads that peter out into two-track through rolling pasture. The old post-and-rail fences are there, but the cows are gone. Continue reading Lost in Surburbia→
So, I’m just back from the Cherwell Global User conference, one of the most enjoyable vendor events I’ve ever been to. Our new ITSM Software partner hosted the event at the Broadmoor, a stunning resort in Colorado Springs. Now, of course the Broadmoor offered a beautiful setting; a world-class facility; and service offered at a standard I’ve never experienced before.
A girl could get used to having five people tend to her simple supper, turn-down service, and a courteous word from every last staff member I met as I passed through the place. Of course, I was paying for it and the place completely met my expectations. But I’ll tell you where the “wow” landed for me.
I wanted to go for a run during lunch. Seeing as how I’m from Canada’s Pacific Southwest, I was completely surprised by the appearance of a giant flaming ball in the sky and had no shades with me to protect my eyes from the thing. So I went to the concierge and got a trail map… and then asked, a little embarrassed, “Um, I need to buy sunglasses and I can’t really afford the $275 polarized shades in the golf pro shop. Which of the 87 retail outlets in this giant, beautiful, expensive resort is least likely to bankrupt me?”
The concierge thought about that for about 50 nanoseconds and said, “Hold on a sec. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She returned with three pairs of sunglasses from the lost and found. “Pick one,” she said. “Um…. those.” I pointed, like a three-year-old, at the ones that were most likely to fit my face and didn’t have, like, diamonds on them. She dashed off again, cleaned them with disinfectant, and gave them to me, saying, “Bring them back when you’re done. Have a great run, and here, carry this water.”
This little transaction completely, totally, blew me away. The Broadmoor is down about $50 (the sunglasses I didn’t buy) + $2.55 (bottle of water), but utterly won my heart for that gift of time, creative thought, and energy.
The resort’s overall opulence and magnificence were wonderful, that’s true. But the concierge’s hands-on approach to hospitality and client service utterly delighted me. And it’s the story I’ll tell about the place (well, that and the infinity pool with the margaritas) for a long time to come.
Data, Endurance Sport, and Data About Endurance Sport