The clean life

After many months of functioning to capacity only after the potent drip of a dark roasted coffee, green tea has arrived to restore and comfort me. It's morning here at 222 Campbell St. (aka Chriscottistan) and I've been up for over an hour checking the weather and eating homemade biscuits with jam. The house is a bit chilly so I've got my green KBS Gummby suit on. It's a green retro/euro/hippster american apparel jumpsuit we got at the Tour of California. The weather's not so terrible outside at 45 degrees but my body doesn't know exactly what to think after experiencing so many climates already this year. The sun is out, though, so the planned noon ride time should be ok. Of course mornings communicating ride plans with training partners can't go without controversy as Jeff has already been arguing Andy Mac's 10am ride time logic. We discussed it and I contended that riding early is really just an illusion of being "on the ball" because you feel like you're ahead of the competition. There's that and there is the fact that every aspiring cyclist has this 10am thing stuck their head as being totally fesh. This neurotic behavior usually wears off after a few years of getting destroyed by riders you later find out barely even ride and have Mtn. Dew in their bedons. I've been through the gamut with this one. I experimented in the early years modeling myself off riders like Chris Eatough who truly represented the rare breed of 10am and successful to the sporadic brilliance of Jeremiah Bishop. They both work, just not exclusively. Jeff's argument is that if you have all day, ride during the best hours of it. Mine tends to be a more working flow-chart of inspiration logic.

Health seems to still be on it's way. Just to be sure, I'll continue to live the clean life until I'm sure it's really here. So the latest with the Olympic MTB crew is that Adam Craig and Todd Wells are planting themselves firmly at the top of the USA Possibility list.
Adam was 8th in World Cup # 2 in Germany last weekend and Todd is holding his own in consistency land. Jeremiah is fighting and I know what he's up against having also started in the oppressive back rows of a world cup mtb race. Never surrender! Suzy Q had a better race last weekend in the 30's. One more big one this weekend in Madrid, Spain before the crew rolls home. Ah, of course I should mention that Jeff Schark is three for three after his crack 'm all win last weekend in Greenbrier. On with the day.

Night time in the little town

The plague symptoms are showing signs of retreat. I'm fighting. It seems, par usual, that everyone in town is out doing huge things this weekend. It's always obvious how much is going on around you when you can't participate. A thing to remember for times of health... Suzy Q and JB are in Germany this weekend for round 2 of the MTB World Cup. Their Olympic participation hinges on rock and/or roll performances! Half my team is racing in the Athens drunken criterium in Georgia tonight. The other half is stuck at home with lonely ritualistic things to do before heading out to Oregon for the Mt. Hood stage race later in May. Altitude tents and suppressed eating habits and such. Seneca Rocks had some action this weekend with White Grass Catering and Chris Scott leading tours. Today Harrisonburg's new local "City" MTB Park had a little opening shindig. The Rocktown trails at Hillandale park are amazing and I'm going burry my head in the sand for not making it out there in a long while. Mountain bikes are frickin' cool and I'm not sure that I actually know how to ride one anymore. Trek thinks I might so I'll be riding one of those at some point this season. My roomy, Jeff "Schark", is at the other event of the weekend at Greenbrier State Park in MD for a big fat-tire throw down. Sounds like something fun. Mackie Marcus and Jason Cyr from the Blackwater Bikes team are the official Redneck reps from Davis. I was born there. Great for bicycle practice as well as pizza and local suds. I've been charged with looking after the homestead of 222 and baking vegan cookies when I feel distant. I have a bottle of Sake.

Today was hot and then it rained. All the trees are budding and green is here to stay for while. The Harri-Roubaix has come and gone with a bang so Spring is in full bloom. I'll do some investigation into the progress of Davis next week. Been a while.

WV Spring Familiarity.

So I'm down, way down, here in Sissonville, WV. I'm staying at Steve Thaxton's health and sanity compound otherwise known as World Wide Chiropractic. The body I call mine has been aloof as of late. I blame the west coast and it's ferocious coast. Yes, the Tour of California is not yet just a distant and painful memory. It's still very much here and kicking me hard in the upper and lower regions. Truly "destroying my will to live".

The Spring is a classic season to start my yearly visit allotment here at the alternative health compound. I think back to my last emergency visit back in April '06 when I showed up with a massive alien growth of sorts on my ass. It was directly over my right sit-bone creating a near impossible saddle situation. How funny that too was right after the Sea Otter Classic. Hmm. Anyway, two days of ionic foot baths and hours of low-level laser attack among other secret stuff, I was on a fast track of healing. Besides a little life-threatening situation, it's clear that an Allopathic approach to seemingly everything has failed. It is leading to crazy bacterial resistance from the overuse of antibiotics and, of course, creating a fantastically convenient industry for drug makers who capitalize off of digestive complaints. We have something for that! And it is not a probiotic. This works hand in hand. Dr. prescribes antibiotics for everything because he's trained to. Drug companies get new customers from the random side effects and offer them a wide range of "your body is stupid" drugs. As it goes, I've been getting treated by the finest with the finest. And the ionic foot bath and laser are in the arsenal again. Oh, yeah, and Steve pretty much runs his entire operation on his own homemade bio-diesel.

get in the van

Still out here in SoCal with the monkey crew. I'm in the middle of my toc/illness comeback just like most of the others lucky enough to be a part of the quagmire a couple weeks ago. We're out chasing more early season fitness at the Marietta stage race this weekend. The local super 8 is hosting us. It's great with all the standard and soulless local strip mall options. Everything is brand new ofcourse so I'm sure no one around here feels like they're slumin' it too hard. Anyway, today we start with one less guy since he was taken out hard in yesterday's criterium. He one a handful of staples in his head for the effort. We're now sprinter-less. 60 mile circuit today with the whose who of sketchy California amateurs. Look at me east coast, no jacket! Flying back to the 'Burg tomorrow.

toc living

It's a sharp way to start the season. The last three days have been rife with "oh, right - forgot 'bout that..". A few things tend to slip after so many months out of the routine. Prologues are hard. I should have eaten 1000 more kj's (calories) on stage one. Oh, and pro tour sprinters can climb. Yesterday was good until the circuits and I flatted along with two other teammates. We mysteriously had tacks in our tires upon inspection. Spectator sabotage... The mad dash through the caravan is always fun. Boonen and Bettini both yelled at me. Cipollini is still fast. Today is big mountains. Transfer is over, gotta run!

Go.

I'm back from camp #1 out in Cali. You know, the one for all the TOC recon action. What a mellow week that was thinking back to it. We rode in the rain and and had a few beverages--all the normal team bonding putty. I think it worked and no one hates eachother, yet. Its a comfort realize most of the guys on this team are over themselves at this point in the game. Unlike the heady days on the national team where it was only a matter of time before your teammates became the last people you wanted to hang out with. So, with that said, I'm stoked on being pumped about the new crew. After the little California bonding session I made it back to Virginia with just enough time to get stranded in my old home town for a week. It was a routine mission to mtns. that was botched by the otherwise trusty Subi. Whiskey Tango Foxtrott?? The mysterious over heating issue that I thought had healed itself reared its ugly head upon my escape. It was late on a frigid Tucker county night. The kind I remember having mid week night ski team practice in back in the day. I usually make my escape from the Davis vortex under the cover of darkness in order to avoid the daytime temptations of some of the local establishments that crave my presence. A blown header. That's gonna need some help. The grand prize for this was an extra week in the vortex. I had no bike nor bike clothes. I only had one pair of boxxers. For training I borrowed a dark corner at blackwater bikes and rode Roger's trainer on Roger's bike and in Roger's shoes. For clothing I dug up some national team gear from my dresser in Aurora. Everyone who I said by to before the disaster would come into the bike shop puzzled as to why I instead riding in the corner watching cycling videos day after day after day. I'm getting ready for the TOC. And that I'm stuck. The day I got the car back I drove down to Clemson,SC for three days of warmer weather training. I rode 5hrs each day motivated by being stuck on a stationary trainer in an icebox the week prior. After I got the big rides out of the system headed to recharge the will to live with the teapot in Asheville. I like that place. Lots of mountains and viciously-steep, gravely driveways. After a few days of that it was back to ' Burg to pack it all up again for the Kelly season opener in the Bahamas. Johnny and I almost missed the airboat after a poorly researched departure time. We did make it, though, in no small part being charming as hell with the booking agent lady. Actually, that may have been Johnny... The island racing was a little third world and I got a little charred but it was a good time. The cat and I had some beverages.

I was back at 222 for a week + and even rode a 100 miles with JB, Jeff and Andy Mac in 70 degree "winter" weather. Now I'm lounging in Palo Alto getting ready for my prologue start at 1:47.

'fessional.

Back in the hotel room. These places make me hungry even when it's a rainy rest day. Anytime the action takes a respite I just think about expanding my stomach until it rebels against me. I'm out in Northern Cali' spinning with the Kelly boys. We're here for a little Tour of California recon training. It's funny that as Gato and I were packing up for the trip on Monday it was almost 70 degrees in VA and rainy and cold in SanFran. W.T.F. Yeah, well, I can deal I suppose because that's the tune I need to get used to for another season of being an on-call bike racer. Some days I'll be jumping at every road opportunity and others I'll dig my claws into the teapot and fight the inevitable. It's been a while since the blogging sector of my brain has been active. I'm aware. It's cool. We're cool, seriously. It's not me, it's you. The holidays are filled with cheap, disposable entertainment anyway. Harrisonburg has been its' usual late December weather friendly bike racer heaven. Some of the locals have been venturing into the WV mountains for snow-day doses of white grass. I've missed some good days apparently. Hell, I've missed'm all. Gotta work. Gotta budget. Gotta sleep in. Gotta strum 5 chords in no particular order. My car doesn't want to drive. I don't want to drive. I'm stuck in inertia. My bike is dirty. I'm out of coffee. On the work front I've been pretty stoked with latest $$ pursuit. Demolition, (a.k.a: DESTROY Everything then sweep up). Le Teapot, Andy Mac and I jumped in head first the day after Christmas. Ride all day then work for 3-6hrs in the eve. Good schedule if you can talk yourself into it. Trade Show Direct is moving out of the building by Shank's bakery bliss and into a big warehouse by the Little Grill. Ken Bell, the man behind "Off road to Athens" owns Trade Show Direct so in a way this really isn't venturing too far out of the cycling world for work. The days are long but an evening of punk rock fueled demolition can be an amazing tonic for a socially tense day of bike practice. Friendship is rare.

Andy Mac is holding down the project while I'm out in California getting wet, cold and dreaming of a hot teapot. This week Ken's got Andy on the hand-held jackhammer obliterating cement blocks that occupy former window frames. He's gonna be ripped by next week when I show up having lost any bench-pressing skills gained from the last couple weeks. Ah, well. Upper body strength is for people that can't climb (I'm talkin' bikes not rocks). Anyway the rides have been fun out here in NorCal minus the extreme animosity towards cyclist from the coffin drivers. WE DON'T WANT TO PLAY YOUR GAME! YES, YOU ARE BIGGER, MORE MANLY AND HAIRIER THAN US. WHATEVER. SORRY FOR COSTING YOU 3 SECONDS AND CAUSING YOU TO LOSE YOUR RECORD GAS MILEAGE AVERAGE BY PINNING IT IN THE RED BY US ON THE WAY HOME FROM YOUR MUNDANE CUBICLE JOBS. I almost got blown into the pacific on day one. Into Great White breeding waters. That would have been perfect. A perfectly unpredictable ending to my grand story. We rode through some amazing scenery that first rainy day. Redwood and eucalyptus tree lined twisty climbs with brush filled storm run-off. Definitely had a soulful wholeness that's lacking in most of my thoughts of the Western states. Yesterday was good but mind-numbing all the same as we rode from Santa Rosa towards Davis. Desolate farm roads that go on for-frickin'-ever. Imagine living there. Good morning nothingness! Perhaps a good place to write a depressing novel about isolation. Day 1: Hmmm... Day 2: Isolation? Tragedy maybe...

Today is a rest day. Rode to Trader Joes. Sushi.

Tomorrow begins three more big days of TOC knowledge building. I'll be home on Monday and may or may not be heading to Camp Clemson shortly thereafter. Note: NorCal is all about Ron Paul.

Somehow, it works.

My days have been somewhere between freezing and only slightly-uncomfortable lately. The last couple weeks have landed in the acceptable range as far as training has been concerned. Everyone here in the 'Burg seems to be pretty motivated. The calls start coming in "pretty early" everyday. The crew has been meeting at all the local baked-goods/acceptable coffee establishments. It's good but not without its pressures. I'd say on the leaner $$ days, we come damn close to loitering the shit out of these tolerant locals businesses. I kinda instituted a new rule: last person there, granted everyone has been waiting a while already and it's 15+ minutes past the planned departure, is obligated to buy an espresso for each one of us. The only one to actually follow through with this has been Jeremiah. So, I won a free espresso! Our mornings are always a crazy rush because we're are all so good at staying true to our morning routines. In my case this does not always mean preparation. Then again...I'm preparing to be myself, I guess. I'm the most hyper-productive person I know when it comes to squeezing EVERYTHING into the final 15 minutes before making the leap from comfort to action. My roommate acts annoyed but deep down I know he's impressed. I mean, golly gee, it impresses me! The rides have been really amazing, though. We've been hitting the mountains when the weather allows (even when it doesn't sometimes) and the rolling valley farm roads North and South of town to keep the engines at a good tick when it's too cold.

Harrisonburg has an eclectic mix of ego's when it comes to our cycling hardcores. They run the gamut from complete narrow-minded obsessiveness to lethargic contentedness. We have the aspirer's and the inspired. Everyone is making it work in their own right and no one really gets it. We criticize each other then look at ourselves and wonder WTF do we Know? No standard template, yet everyone keeps looking for one. It's a working art-form and completely situational.

And now it's cold.

Been hittin' the cross scene lately with my teammate Johnny Sundt. First couple went pretty good. 2nd in Richmond in my first race effort post-surgery. That was nice and I got the bug. The Teapot called hard the next week so I could really revel in that nice piece of pre-season glory. A few weeks later Johnny (a.k.a Gato) and I went south for a double weekend of UCI Cross Madness east of Asheville.... Hendersonville?? Not sure but one thing was - a-typical cross weather. The competition was stiffer with legitimate cross talent showing up. Justin Spinelli, a KBS teammate of mine, was a dominate force all weekend taking first on Saturday and second, giving the win to a teammate, on Sunday. In-to-it. Motivation this time of year always impresses me this time of year since I'm usually hiding behind highly unfit base miles as an excuse not to be racing. Rad to enter a new scene, though. The Cross scene rules and there was even a random tailgate with a banner advertising free beer. I ended up 9th on Saturday and 10th Sunday justifying the trip with a respectable $166.00 for the weekend. Thanks to Gato and CGSM for covering gas, lodging and emotional support. Pretty much the only way this time of year. One things for sure, driving rules. Especially when it comes at ya 10 hours at a time. We stayed @ the Applegate's bike compound and that was a highlight if I've ever experienced one. Awesome hosts to all the poor racers looking for floorspace. Check out Cara's blog for some good shots of me smurfin' it up.

I botched the last two cross weekends (Massachusetts/Reston, Va) pretty good. Not for lack of effort and desire (maybe a lot) but I just didn't justify the suffering when confronted with actual competition. The cold definitely plays a role but really I've just not been entering the events in a focused state. Not because of any outside circumstance, really. More just general beast confrontation issues. The beast must be confronted every time regardless and I guess I'm just not up to it at the moment. No worries since the season has not yet begun so I'm just grateful that I'm cycling these issues through the system before they become detrimental. Word to that.

The regimen has begun in earnest. Not necessarily resembling anything from the past but new and exciting all the same. Besides, one must enjoy this insanity from all angles in order not to derail catastrophically. Sleep, ride, revel, Pay rent, repeat.

Mind in order. Question everything and fight complacency around every corner. The teapot enlightened my outlook with a great blog quote today. It read: "Don't be fooled, help is not on the way."

Home WV climbing when it was warm. The top of Sugarlands road for those of you with rad local knowledge. Two words: Compact-cranks.

Out for an early one with JB tomorrow. MTB suffer-in-the-snow style, big time. I'm packin' the space blanket and pemmican.

Resurrection

I swear to Ulr, god of snow, that I have been riding my bicycle. Not stretching or even training per say, but definitely riding. Building myself up from an atrophied post-surgery state of fitness has been interesting. Humbling may actually be a better term for it. My approach has been to jump into anything going on around me that sounded epic and beyond my current fitness level (rule of discomfort: leads to a stronger you!). Since I came back into the mix during the time of season most racers were winding down, I didn't feel much pressure to be up and running at full capacity. Instead I just took the day-by-day approach of riding when I felt like it and not when I didn't. Mentally this has worked out great since I tend to destroy my love for bikes when I choose to obsess about the nuances of training instead of, lets say, drinking more beer. At this point it's safe to say that I'm maintaining a bit more focus on riding consistently while I'm home all while staying true to my new longevity approach of caring less. Jeff Schalk, my Trek/VW MTB roommate, spends his days on the other end of this philosophy choosing instead to follow a firm set of self-imposed anti-fun guidelines. This actually works out really well because he makes me feel just lame enough to keep me in a semi-straight line all while indulging in my own antics.

Yesterday Mia Bishop and I took the cross bikes out northwest of town and toured a bunch of the classic "Harri-Roubaix" gravel roads. It blows my mind to go out there and put together a completely refreshed loop and still only be 10 miles from town the whole time. We road the steep, serpentine narrow roads through the valley for three and a half hours only stopping for roadside pee breaks and to run with our bike to warm our frozen toes. The snow fell on us for the first time in at least a year today. Minutes before the snow really started in earnest, an icy, still-forming piece of wet snow landed on my lip. It was invigorating.

Going to NC for a weekend of Cross Madness with the one, the only, EL Gato (a.k.a Jonny Sundt)

VEGAS + Bikes

Sort of. Not that I'm actually taking a bike out there. Interbike is pretty much a perfect excuse to go to Vegas, get way too excited about bike stuff and then control the enthusiasm with a bit 'O volatile beverages.

Interbike. The perfect excuse.

And I'm off!

Hurry up and... Wait!

Woke up at a fine hour this morning with the motivation and determination to respect my check-up appointment time at the UVA hospital. I sped. I ran. I stressed. I obsessed. I was late. And just like last time, none of it mattered as I sat for unreasonable amounts of time waiting to be seen. The first part of the appointment was an ankle/brachial pressure test to compare the pressures in my legs from an earlier test I did before the surgery. Hippie John who recorded the first test back in June passed the reins over to another women who, like my previous experience with Hippie John, proceeded to confuse and slightly depress me with her take on the test results. Basically, the results showed that I was way out of shape (which I fully expected) and so pressures in both legs dropped compared to the peak form I was carrying during the last test. "They both dropped", she said. "Hmmmm, well of course", I countered, "That's the hardest I've pedaled in two months and my body is freaked out". I hate it when someone who is there for the sole purpose of "data gathering" and knows little about a situation feels obligated to bleed negative opinions. It's like mental terrorism. Back in June Hippie John tried to convince me that surgery wasn't necessary. It's all a bunch of noise as far as I'm concerned until I get Dr. Cherries opinion. When that time finally came hours later, it was reassuring and positive. No, wait, it was human. He was psyched about the prospects of what close to 50% more blood flow in my left could mean for my career and so am I. He's the doctor and he gave me the "all clear" for a build back into training so on your mark, get set, frickin' go!

I'm off to Minneapolis tomorrow morning for some promotional charity tours for my Kelly Benefit Strategies/Medifast Pro Cycling Team. Larry (our team soigneur) and I are planning to hit the Minneapolis bike film festival plus the shequamegon race in WI so it should be a good trip. Not to mention all the java bliss ever morning from downstairs at One on One bike/art/coffee shop.

I'm already back in action somewhat, I suppose, after hitting the tour again with the team last Friday in Delaware for more public displays of our program. Always nice to ride with a group protected by the man from the man in this police state.That evening as I continued my pursuit of the Teapot the rest of the guys were topping off the Kilojoules for Saturday's Univest Grand Prix in Souderton, PA. Ryan was second and Johnny Sundt (aka: El Gato) stole the Sprinter's Jersey. With a fifth in the following day's Crit the team took the overall for the weekend and I think that's rad. I'm aching to be back in the game...

Joey Riddle, a good WVMBA friend of mine, had a terrible crash this past weekend at the Dirt Derby race in Huntington and is now home recovering. I'm thinking of you guys. Check out this benefit for Joey and Mandi Riddle.

Push. pull.

This reminds me of my last six weeks. Belgian Ardennes 2005


And here we are. Or here I am anyway. Tomorrow is 6 weeks post-opp. A pathetic little loop around town awaits me and I can't seem to curb my enthusiasm about it...

Don't worry, please. The last 10 or so blog-free day's are all part of the plan. The same plan as last time the words disappeared only to reappear with new found meaning and energy. Just like bio-rhythms. When some are up, others are down. Controlled chaos on the screen? Perhaps. If it gets that far.

I've been working for SMT man, Chris Scott for the last week or so before and during the SM100. So much work goes into that event ! I feel guilty and lazy having just been a racer all these years. Volunteers are the reason events work. Thanks for all the suffering on our spandex wearin', leg-shaving behalf! Jeff Roommate Schalk pulled a Floyd Landis on Floyd Landis (insane solo win) this past weekend and he hasn't rinsed the grin off his face since. Not to mention a pretty big record fell and is now smoldering out at the stokesville camp ground.

Floyd was in town and I was stoked to tie on more than one buzz with him. That guy knows how to party! Anyway, some boycotted his presence and others embraced it. After all, he's a former local mountain biker and apparently human as well.

Oh, the teapot! Yeah, sleepy time tea is exactly what I'm reaching for right now. It makes me happy.


Ready, set, go.

Yessss...

USA Cycling Professional Criterium Championship
Downers Grove, Illinois
1. Martin Gilbert (Can), Kelly Benefit Strategies-Medifast
2. Kirk O'Bee, Health Net-Maxxis
3. Shawn Milne, Health Net-Maxxis
4. Alex Candelario, Jelly Belly
5. Tony Cruz, Discovery Channel

Suzie Q

Nice work.


2007 TransRockies Challenge
August 12-18
British Columbia, Canada
Final overall

Women open
1. Trek-Volkswagen/Giant (Susan Haywood, Hillary Harrison), 32:26:35
2. Canwi Girls (Jenny Hillman, Jo Turnbull, at 0:45:20
3. Minx-Extreme Endurance (Fi Spotswood, Meggie Bichard), at 2:50:07
4. Team Hilly Hell (Hilary Bloor, Helen Lambert), at 8:04:52
5. Guidi-up (Amy Guidinger, Josee Hull), at 8:59:48

Well said, Billy.

Speaks as loudly today as it did then. Enjoy.

That's 'fessional, man.

Passing bottles.

Went to the Black Bear 40k down in Kanawa State Forest with Matt M. yesterday. The course was way dry this year. At least what I saw of it... It seems the Black Bear, which has a long history as part of the WVMBA Series, is either up or down as far as attendance and promotion is concerned from year to year. With less than 100 racers this year and the course being packed with dry singletrack, it's easy to question what WV mountain biker's August priorities are. Perhaps it's the event's branding as "WV's Scariest" mtb race, fear of Black Bears, memories of last years rain soaked gravel road fest or any number of other things. I know I've enjoyed the event over the years with it's history of one of the most impressive prize tables on the circuit. Ah, regardless of the missing 50 racers or so it looked and felt like a typical WV Mtb race with practically all the weekend regulars, tons of well groomed singletrack and a nice post race BBQ spread.

I experienced the perspective difference of competing to spectating and bottle passing and I can tell you I understand and appreciate all those on the sidelines cheering and waiting hours for the next glimpse of the riders.

Post race, Matt and I met Steve Thaxton at his healing compound in Sissonville for some much needed tuneups. Once again we were styled out to the max with adjustments + an emotional and physical post-surgery detox for me. I'm walking a bit more up right now. Thanks Steve.

JB had a pretty decent weekend.

And so did my KBS/Medifast teammates...

WV. August. Hangin' out.

The last two weeks have been slow. The first week post-opp I felt like a junkie from all the pain candy I was on. Still, not a bad time. Just a bit hunched over with no use of my stomach muscles and thoroughly spun in the head. Heard some great music two Wednesdays ago at the Fiddle in the form of Lindy Cyr's little sister's band, Hogzilla. Check'm out. It's good shite. That was one of the three outing highlights over the last couple week besides, of course, being home mid-summer. I definitely have a tendency to drift towards idleness when not constantly stimulated by being on the move. However, I've passed the 2+week mark. Things are fine and I've been eating unbelievably well with the garden being the central theme. Multiple night's of Blueberry cobbler definitely confirm this.



My stomach wounds are healing nicely but still have "dissolving" sutures sticking out of them. It's going to be a project dealing with the scare tissue that is clinging to my stomach muscle fascia at the moment. Feels like I'm sticking to myself. At this point I'm almost able to walk normal and stand somewhat up right. It seems this is the condition of choice in the domestic peloton this year.

This weekend marks the end of the '07 NORBA series, with the finals in Aspen Colorado. Jeremiah won it last year and he's on form to do it again this year. Also this weekend is the BIG money Tour of Elk Grove stage race for my KBS/Medifast team. Good luck, boys. $$!

I'm rolling down to Charleston tomorrow with Matt for the BlackBear WVMBA Points series race. Should be fun limping around cheering and passing bottles... Ahh, just good to get out.

All patched up.

All went well with my surgery on July 26th at University of Virginia hospital in Charlottesville and I'm back home - Sooner than expected- recovering in WV. For those that have no clue what I'm talking about, I just had a procedure to repair the iliac artery in my left leg that had narrowed and was restricting blood-flow. When I rode any harder than tempo my left leg would lose power and burn a whole lot more than my right leg. Not to mention swelling up and being tight almost all the time. Not a comfortable thing to deal with when your job is doing what provokes the symptoms on a daily basis.

Round 1:

In June, after the Nature valley grand Prix, I underwent a diagnostic test called an arteriogram to investigate the inner structure and function of my iliac artery. During the test, Which I was wide awake for (not a problem with the wonder-drug verset coursing through my system), the doctors inserted guide wires through a catheter in my groin to access the artery. Contrast dye was released (felt like I was peeing down both my legs) so x-rays could be taken of the arterial structure and nitroglycerin was released for pressure measurements. It was pretty wild being wheeled into a full blown operating room with stainless steel torture-devices, music in the background and plasma screens for watching the movie of my artery system. It's funny to think back at how nervous I was beforehand only to become the epitome of mellow after I was given the Vercet (Magical dissociative). I actually had fun and was in a great mood throughout the two hour procedure. Although I did ask, the doctors wouldn't burn me a copy of artery show they just taped.

Round 2:

Almost a month after the Arteriogram, I finally had things in order to go ahead with the big day. Through a bizarre twist of fate no one could have predicted, my brother and I were both admitted into a hospital on the same day. This would be the first time either Waite brother checked into any sort of medical establishment. My brother for a Staph infection (which he is recovering from just fine) and my self for a Patch Angioplasty on my Iliac Artery. Karl was in Maryland and I was in Charlottesville. With my brothers situation being more acute than mine, my mom stayed with him while my good friend Matt Marcus clocked out of Blackwater bikes for a couple days to accompany me.

The night before surgery was a bit unnerving having to deal with the news of serious turmoil in this year's Tour De France. Not to mention the expulsion of Micheal Rasmussen. I was starting to wonder if the sport's top level would still exist when I came out of the following day's planned anesthesia. Nonetheless, my alarm hit at 4:30 A.M and Matt and I cruised through the quiet streets of Harrisonburg on our way to my 6A.M. check-in for surgery. Once we arrived at the hospital the anxiety of what lay ahead began to creep into my system causing me to shake. Luckily Matt and I tend to look at strange situations with cynical humor so most of my tension gave way to laughing with an extremely high heart rate. My mood continued to rise as Matt and I hung out in the pre-opp room where I had to trade in my KBS Pro Cycling casual wear for this ridiculously huge moo moo surgical robe. The thing had to be tied in the back and I was completely naked so the site from the rear must have been frightening! After I was changed, the nurse came in to start my IV and since I was super tense she had a difficult time finding my normally impressive arm veins. The first try was a miss enticing Matt and I to label her the "needle Nazi". After a little hot towel therapy she managed to find suitable entry point in the top of my hand. After that the anesthesiologist came in and things started to get fuzzy. I remember shaking Matt's hand on my way out the door, climbing from the roller bed to the cold operating table and nestling my head onto a cupped rest of some sort. The next thing I remember is looking up at nurses in the recovery room asking me to rate my level of pain from one to ten. I think I said eight after which I was given a mega hit of morphine. I also remember reaching down to my right side and checking for a bandage since I had to remind the docs to do the Inguinal release on the right leg as well. It was there and so were the two other bandages on my left side. For what seemed like a short while in the recovery room, was actually like four or five hours while nurses secured me a room for the overnight stay.

When I finally made it to my room the first thing I did was call my mom since Matt and my Grandmother hadn't yet made it in. While I was talking to her I fell off my morphine induced "cloud 9" and sort of emotionally fell apart. Along with the tear jerker the pain was coming on full tilt as well. I told mom I had to go and proceeded to slam the nurse call button until someone answered,"May I help you?". I answered back with, "I need a nurse and my pain killers now!!". I was so frustrated that I had been dumped in a room all by myself in pain and without my family being told they could come up. Once that fiasco ended things were great and I was really happy to see Matt and my grandmother. That night I was rewarded with this angelic nurse named Wendy. She was beautiful and gentle. Exactly what I needed after suffering through the not so gentle nurse before her. Wendy even brought Matt a cot to sleep on. Even though I did not get much sleep that night, it was a pleasure to be woken up by Wendy when she made her rounds. I think Matt would agree. The next day Dr. Cherry came in for a visit and explain that my artery was the size of a pencil where it was damaged. To fix it he cut the artery down the middle and stitched an oval shaped patch of dacron (a woven polyester material kind of like gore-tex) over the open segment to enlarge it. He also trimmed my Inguinal ligament which stretches over the External Iliac Artery to allow more space for the artery to move while I pedal and to prevent further damage.

Thanks to all who helped me get through this including: Dr. Cherry, Tracey Lea, Beth Leasure, Hunter Allen, my family and friends. And of course Matt Marcus for dropping everything to come hang out with me at the hospital making me laugh so hard my wounds almost came apart. That freakin' hurt but it was worth it!

It was a pretty liberating feeling when "They" finally let me out of the matrix that is a hospital. Who are they? Well, that's what Matt and I were asking ourselves every time we asked a nurse about when I could go home. "I'll see what they tell me", she would say...