Most climbing so far!

Today I completed a 67 mile ride that was among the hardest things I've ever done on two wheels. "Only 67 miles?! what's so hard about that!?", you are probably thinking.

The part about a total elevation gain of 6,900 feet (the elevation shown below is debatably accurate, although much higher). That is a ton of climbing. Six summits, to be precise, plus a handful of smaller climbs to keep things interesting.

And, I will say that I am actually thoroughly enjoying the fact that I got completely and totally beaten up by the elevation on this ride. While I know that I am not slow (I am sometimes frustrated by being the fastest person on a ride), I felt like a brand new rider again. It was like I was learning the true meaning of climbing, and seeing a mountain for the first time - both at once. Aaaannnnd... then I experienced what felt like total body failure at the end of summit 5 (with still about 1000 feet of climbing left to go on the ride back to New Haven.). Everything hurt, and every time the road pitched upwards even slightly my legs felt like bricks. The last long climb seemed to go on forever. A gap would start forming between me and the [notably all elite or pro level racers] group, and then I watched the formation of what felt like an abyss. At some point, one of the strongest riders doubled back for me and rode behind me, periodically launching me forward by a hand on the small of my back. By this point I was beyond cracked and beyond caring about the patheticness of such help. I was only thankful. Since getting back, I've been thinking about the incredible strength it would take to ride up a mountain AND periodically push a 123# weight. Pretty wild. At the time, I was in too much pain to think about anything but the top.

It's nice to be totally, completely and absolutely humbled. And, that I am.

No excuses about Crohn's or having an ileostomy, or nutritional deficits related to the prior. All of that is my back story, and certainly effects my stamina. But, the real determinants of strength and speed are time spent on the bike, sweat, pain, and the will to inflict more suffering on yourself. The only way to get stronger is to put in the effort. So, I'll consider this ride an investment.

Check it out:

Hey look! That's me in a track race!

Things have been busy here at Yale for the past month and a half, but I'm finally feeling settled in and am enjoying my program. I'm also really seriously enjoying the New Haven cycling scene. It is amazing - truly.

You know how you've read articles featuring things like local group rides that are FAST!, with townline sprints, and the local Tuesday Night Cup informal race? I always thought these were fiction or strictly metaphor. They exist here in New Haven and it is awesome. I'm totally enjoying getting my broken butt kicked up hills on a daily basis.

The Yale cycling team is also pretty rad. I finished out the track season last weekend at the Northeast Velodrome in NH, taking 5th in the 4k pursuit (fully lapping my Harvard opponent!), 4th in the points race, and 4th in the scratch race (got nipped by less than an inch at the line in the pack sprint for 3rd. Two guys were way off the front).

Track seems to be my thing, and I'm embracing it wholeheartedly! However, that doesn't mean I don't still need to do the majority of my training on the open roads.

Speaking of track. I found this video on youtube. This is my first track race on this coast, at the Kissena Velodrome in Queens, NYC. Apparently the guy who won the race (and took this helmet cam footage) was on my wheel for essentially the whole race until the end. Hmm...

The race starts at 2:00. The beginning is just announcements and warnings, "This is a huge field! Ride safely! You will be disqualified for passing on the left!"

Track Racing!

Very quick photo post and recap of the Trexlertown collegiate track race:

Note the change of cycling kit from Pitt to Yale!


I wasn't expecting to be in great form today given that I have had the flu for the past three days. However, I woke up this morning feeling less awful. So, that was a good start.

Speaking of starts, here's a neat photo series that one of the race organizers got of me getting set up for a 2km individual pursuit race:

Bracing for the gun! And, we're off! First pedal stroke is the hardest. I need to practice throwing my weight forward more forcefully.

Picking up speed, out of the saddle. But, not too fast, since I have to pace it for 6 laps.

In the scratch race (a simple-concept mass start type race where the first person over the line at the end wins), I managed to get away with one other guy in a break off the front with 6 laps to go. Sadly, I got caught by the pack and trounced with one to go, taking 6th place - just outside of points. It's always easier after the fact to think that I could have done better, forced myself to push through more hurt. But, it's something to build on! Hurt more and don't get caught!

An experienced track racer said of it, "You can't win unless you are willing to risk losing".

All in all, it was a fun day. I learned things, saw some cool dudes I know from the collegiate road season, and am looking forward to more collegiate track racing next weekend in New Hampshire.

Mapletown Road Race

At this point, I've figured out how to do well at a criterium race (short flat circuit race, fast and technical cornering), but still find myself in a world of hurt and dispair when it comes to road races. It's so easy to start beating myself up mentally when I'm in agony on a climb and feel myself struggling to hang on. It's easy to forget that half of the other guys are probably in the same boat, and just pushing through. And, all pain in temporary.

Cycling takes mental fortitude, in addition to physical strength. And, different types of races take different types of mental preparation and strength. Road races take an ability to push through pain for much longer than criterium races, which have become my "comfort zone" of racing. In many ways I think that having a chronic illness has better prepared me to handle the pain of competitive cycling; those of us with IBD know what pain really means. But, in other ways, perhaps this history makes it more difficult to volunteer for a world of hurt, no matter how relatively short a few hours may be. It is both a glorious and terrible feeling to choose to let the pedals stop spinning and make the pain stop before the summit - a choice that we are never given when facing illness or surgery, and one that is soon followed by regret in a race. And, because of Crohns and my relative gutlessness, pushing onwards means that much more to me. I can face whatever agony this race brings, and I will finish it! And, within a few minutes of finishing, none of the suffering will seem so bad. In fact, I'll remember it as a good time.

Few things worth doing come easy. And, there is only one way to get better at road racing: do more of it!

Also, I need to do more climbing more often, as evidenced by my pain on the climbs of this course. This photo is of the first summit, when the pack had already broken up considerably. You can see the USA Cycling official on the motorcycle in the back bringing up the last of the real pack - it is possible to fall behind the scooter, and there are few things more demoralizing. When you hear that engine, you force yourself to pick up the pace!

One major success of this race was hydration! I brought 3 bottles with extra concentrated gatorade plus Elete electrolyte add in - 2 in the bottle cages and one in my back pocket - and needed every bit of it. Three bottles might seem a bit excessive for a two hour road race, but with less intestines come impaired hydration. If the race had been longer I would have desperately needed a feedzone handup!

Goals for next time: More watts, less weight, and less negative self-talk. That's the magic recipe. No matter where I place in the finish, it is about achieving my personal best, beating the medical odds, and proving that I can still be competitive in this sport despite my added challenges.

Bethel Criterium

Earlier this month I was in the Yale area looking for housing, and made time to race a local criterium; the Bethel crit.

One of the highlights of this (unusually for a crit) hilly, short circuit race was getting to meet another competitive cyclist with an ostomy! We went for a short ride after the race, talked about cycling in the area, and about how we'd like to see more encouragement of serious athletics for those with an ostomy.

There are plenty of folks out there (many of whom show up on my links page section) who do rad, active stuff - including hockey, rock climbing, running, etc. Now, if only we could get both the healthcare provider community and the general public to recognize that there are no limitations on what you can do after surgery!

Thanks, Alan, for the photos! Here's one of the starting lineup. Check out those wheels on the Tarmac guys! And, also, the yellow crocs on the race official. Wow.

Bannana rice muffins

This recipe is the perfect overlap between the cycling diet and the gentle, easily digestible diets that many people with IBD or other GI issues stick to.

I found it in The Feedzone, a cycling specific cookbook under the "portables" section. They are not quite muffins, but very tasty, dense little snacks. And, as the section of the cookbook would imply, they are easy to carry with you - in a jersey pocket or in a lunch bag.

All you need is a blender and a muffin tin. I found that this made about 10.

Blend the following together:

1 bannana
2 cups cooked rice
2 eggs
2 tbsp of brown sugar
1 pinch of salt
1 tbsp flour (rice, wheat, whatever)
1/4 to 1/2 c milk/rice milk depending on how big your bannana or eggs are.
cinnomon or vanilla to taste


The batter should be thick, smooth and slightly frothy looking.

Pour it into a greased muffin tin, or use tin liners so ease cleanup.
Bake in a preheated oven at 325 for ~20mns.


As the weather has gotten hotter, I've been enjoying these chilled in the morning. Bonus: The potassium content is also useful for those of us with electrolyte issues.

Biomechanics, and the problem with ab muscles lost

Having just finished a fantasticly productive and learning-filled cycling team practice, I am feeling very ready for bed! It's only 10pm! But, I'm pretty much toast, in the best kind of way.

Today we did a lot of pedal biomechanics work - this is the physically and mentally painful stuff. We have been working on perfecting smooth, even, one-legged pedaling in proper form and at a relatively high cadence... and up small hills! The good news, it's getting better. The bad news, my right side is still about twice as strong and fast as my left.

The next thing we've been focusing on for a few team training sessions now is sprinting, specifically with getting forward and low over the handlebars while leveraging the bike side to side underneith you. This takes a lot of control and core strenght! And, I do confess that I don't have a lot of it. I haven't been very good at doing any active abdominal excercises. In fact, I avoid them because they hurt and send my ab muscles around my ileostomy into little spasms! Distressing...

So, now it has become clear that without doing some core strength work, my sprinting will never be as good as it could be.

For those of you with an ostomy out there, if you are reading, perhaps you have input on the ab workout quandry? Have you had similar muscle spasm issues? How have you overcome your own hurdles around building/rebuilding lost core strength?

Also, in preparation for my departure for Yale in August, I had a final fit of rebellion last week! Whoa! Next month, I intend to dye it cotton-candy blue to match my new Yale cycling kit.