I don't what was more frightening at Safeway.  The fact that they were out of bananas or the high protein South Beach Diet bars.  I never cease to be amazed by the marketing gimmicks I find at supermarkets.  I was trying to food so I can recover from the past three days of racing.

Ah, the last three days of racing...La Vuelta de Bisbee.  The last and only time I competed in this race was 2002, my last year of racing.  After past three days, I can say two things for certain:

a) the Pro/1/2 fields have a much deeper level of talent.  My prologue time in 2002 put me in 8th place.  This year that same time would have been good for the top 20.
b) getting back in racing fitness is a challenge, probably more mentally then physically.

Bisbee is a 3-day, 4-stage race.  It starts on Friday with an uphill time trial.  It's a fun race through the streets of Bisbee to the top of Mule Pass.  Had I not nearly been run over by an errant driver, I might've saved a few seconds.  Still my time wasn't stellar, and I slotted in 68th.  A cool thing happened at the start, too.  Albert Hopper, the race organizer, came up to me and introduced himself.  He said that he became vegetarian 4 years ago, and it was one of the best decisions of his life.  That was inspiring.  I have to commend Albert and his crew on organizing a great event. 

Saturday's Stage 1 is a 79 mile road race with some climbing at the end, but mostly the challenge is the WIND.   I'm still trying to block out the pain and suffering endured twice along King's Ranch Road.  By the final climb, I was completely shattered.  I managed to hang on with the group I was with to the finish, some 6+ minutes back on the leaders.  I was pleased that I felt that this one of the first days this year that I've actually raced hard (and been able to race hard).  It was a small victory.

Saturday afternoon's Stage 2 is a 7.2 mile time trial.  With strong winds and unusually wet weather and no time trial bike, I had no intention of breaking any records.  Riding Eddy Merckx style, I finished some 3 minutes back on the leaders, but I was more concerned about Sunday's race.

A mental challenge I keep coming up against is the will to push myself in the races, to put it on the line.  Saturday night I had made up my mind that I would be in the early break.  I had nothing to lose.

It was the right move to be in.  The winner came from the 12-or-so rider break that formed at the first sprint line at mile 19.   The only trouble was that I was no longer with the break as we hit the climb towards the finish.  It came on gradually, but in the back of my mind I feared that I might run out of fuel.  I had woken up in the middle of the night hungry, and though I had a big breakfast, I was starting to get hungry again by the start of the race.  The start of an 89 mile road race with 6000 feet of climbing is not the place to begin making up for yesterday's calorie deficit.  So I bonked.

The field chewed me up and spit me out.  By the time I came crawling over Mule Pass for the first time, I had already made up my mind that I was not going to climb back up to finish.  I didn't need to, as my friend's house where we're staying is in the lower part of Bisbee.  Then I flatted on the descent, and I felt like I had a legitimate reason to DNF.

Now I'm stuffing my face with food (hence the anxiety attack on the banana shortage) and trying to prep my myself mentally for the Tour of the Gila.  My strategy for this so far has been to tell Akira the horrors of our upcoming 5 day stage race: the wind, the climbing, the roads, the competition. 

It'll be fun.

I don't think it's a good thing to start one of the toughest stage races in the U.S. tired.  I haven't slept well in a week for some reason.  It's frustrating, and I feel like I'm already in survival mode. 

Today was the opening time trial of the Tour of the Gila.  Akira and I are holding the bottom 1% real tight.  Glicko had a solid ride to finish in 57th place, 4:52 back.  If he rides consistently for the rest of the race, he can finish well. 

The competition here is STRONG.  16 people went under 36 minutes.  In 2002, only 3 people did that.  I did a 38 something minute time that year, and I remember the weather being much windier then.

Here's to the suffering ahead.

The conversation usually goes like this:

"Are you guys actually vegan?"
"Yes."
"Really? Wow."

OR

"Is that bike actually bamboo?"
"Yes."
"Really? Wow."

Dave, Akira, and I finished today (mostly) unscathed.  We think Dave finished in the top 30.  I finished near the back.  Akira was somewhere between Dave and I. 

I have this strange carpet-like burn on my left calf from the one crash today.  I didn't go down, but some part of someone's bike or body was attached to my leg for a couple seconds.  Whatever it was caused this burn on my leg.  It's not bad, but annoying.  I also had this unbelievable acute pain in my foot.  I thought someone's chainring had sliced my foot.

The survival continues tomorrow.

It's never a good sign when you're asking yourself "How far will I make it today?" before the start of the race.  I woke up this morning exhausted.  The race started fast, and I couldn't go fast.  So I enjoyed the view around Pinos Altos and pulled off at the first feed zone. 

On the way to the next feed zone, Annie (Dave's girlfriend) and I discussed virtue epistemology.  At the next feed zone, we found Dave.  He bonked. 

Akira is hanging strong.  Go Akira.

I love seeing a big race in my hometown.  If people only knew how great the riding is around there.  This gets me excited about racing.  It's great seeing this series of races that I helped envision back in 1999 become a reality.

While Akira went around in circles, I watched.  It was a good race.  Brice Jones from Jelly Belly won the field sprint.

For the past 4 to 6 weeks, I've felt like I've had the brakes on when it comes to racing.  I haven't been able to put a figure on why, but I sense that it had more to do with a mental/emotional hurdle than anything physical.  But the emotional block did slow me down physically. 

Since early March, I've felt an underlying anxiety when it comes to the races.  Not so much nervousness about the race, but it felt like something deeper and more tumultuous.  This anxiety didn't just manifest in my racing life, I could feel it in many aspects of my life, especially in my work.  It was as if I wasn't being truthful to myself in some way, and I couldn't figure out what that was.  I couldn't tell if I truly wasn't passionate about the current situation in my life or if I wasn't connecting to my passion in a way that felt right me.

About the time that I hit a real low with both racing and my work - the weekend of the Sea Otter Bicycle Classic - Charity left to spend a month with her Dad.  This time apart, though not easy, has been a time for reflection and meditation. It has, for me, opened the doors to deeper intimacy and love.  But before I go detailing the emotional intricacies of my relationship with Charity, I will explain how this experience of deeper intimacy and love is manifesting in the other important aspects of my life - my livelihood.  It has to do with differentiation.

Last week before Bisbee, I had several instances where I suddenly felt constricted and anxious.  When I examine these moments closely the following pattern emerges: I begin thinking about my performance as an athlete.  I think I don't measure up to where I should be.  Since I'm literally wearing my lifestyle and values on my body, I think people will discredit my lifestyle as a result of my results.  Likewise, I fear people will be let down by my lack of results.  Then, at the same time, I wonder if I had good results would people think I was rubbing my lifestyle in their face? 

This mental process is (a) selfish - thinking that my results are somehow important to others, (b) self-defeating - there's no logical way out of it, and (c) depends on other people to validate my own sense of self.    This is not really how I think I should live, and I've been thinking of how to change for a few weeks.  And that thinking is part of the problem, I think. 

Something I read yesterday in Passionate Marriage yesterday resonated with me: "You don't think your way to new way of living.  You live your way to a new way of thinking."  It's all in the practice. 

I feel good.  The performance anxiety has lifted.  I feel that I head back to the start line with a more solid sense of who I am and why I am doing this.   The intention to compete with love and vitality rather than fear and selfishness is strong.  Let us see if I can practice it. 

Akira is the only man I know that can pull this T-shirt off.  He's so beautiful.  He almost finished the Gila Monster today until he flatted with 5 miles to go.

Now we're in Tucson, and we're headed to San Diego this afternoon for the speaking engagement there tomorrow.  Then we're headed home!

I've lived in Sonoma County for almost 4 years now, and every summer I've managed to do a handful of Tuesday night Corporate Center Criteriums. Some years, they were the only races I did.  Last night, I made it out for my first Tuesday night race this year.  It was great to have Hopley there too!

I felt inspired to hammer after reading an interview with old racing friend Chad Hartley.  This particularly inspired me:

K-man: Do you have any advice for folks looking to become a pro? (training and other advice)
Chad: Go harder- a lot harder. The last 5 km of a pro tour race is 70kmph, then we sprint- so go harder. Most people don't go hard enough to race, recover and open.

I can remember training with Chad around his home near Chicago.  He would sprint me for every damn sign on the road.  Chad and I raced together for the national team at the Vuelta a Guatemala in 2000 then on Jittery Joe's in 2002.  I quit racing in 2003, and Chad has gone on to have a successful career.

Last night Chad inspired me to push harder.  I needed that.  For the last couple of months I haven't felt like I could go harder.  Last night, I felt like hammering myself into the ground, which I kinda did but not enough.  There are signs of improvement, though. 

On the second lap, I started a break that would stay away to the finish.  We started with 3, then we were joined by another a couple of laps later.  [Sorry - I don't know these folks' names.  I think there was an Aaron and a Todd in the break.]  We worked together solidly and gained a 20-30 second advantage over the field.  There were a couple of attacks before the final 4 laps, but nothing serious.  With 2 laps to go, I put in an effort or two, but I attack like the OA van accelerates. 

On the last lap, Todd attacked out the penultimate corner.  It was the right place to go.  There's a headwind there, so a gap is difficult to close if the pressure is on.  I could tell he was about to go, and if only for a millisecond I hestitated.  That was that.  I spent that entire section clawing my way to close the gap and not making much headway.  The other two guys jumped into the corner, and I sat up.

I sat with that moment's hesitation during meditation this morning.  I've seen the same feeling so many times in the past.  Why wait?  Why not just close the gap immediately and stay on the wheel?  Of course, it's not always that simple, but overall, it seems that the more confidence and less fear that we carry the better. 

I was pleased with last night.  It felt great to be making the race and not just having my ass handed to me.  There should be more of that.

Also, I met a guy named Dave at the race last night who said he reads my blog.  Word up, Dave!  It's cool to meet people who actually read this.

I picked up Wholeness of Life by J. Krishnamurti on my bookshelf this week.  This is important reading.  I've been drawn to Krishnamurti's ideas for several years, having skimmed his writings.  I've never had the guts to sit down and read a book. 

I quote:

"It is very important to uncover for oneself what one actually is; not according to the theories and the assertions and experiences of psychologists, philosophers and the gurus, but rather by investigating the whole nature and movement of oneself; by seeing what one actually is."

Pierce the conditioning of the human mind and become alone - all one.  Can I do that?  Even in asking that question, I give the idea that this requires some great act of will.  Krishnamurti again: "But to be aware of one's thought there is no concentration; one does not choose in awareness which thought one would like; one is just aware."

Nina Plank has made quite a name for herself in the vegan world with her op-ed piece in the NY Times.  Just about every vegan I know has written a damning response to "Death by Veganism."  The writing really damns itself, but Jon Hansen had the good idea of making "Death by Veganism" the slogan on our team kit. 

I tried to put this into practice at last night's criterium.  Unfortunately, I nearly suffered death by anaerboism.  We had a small group of maybe 15 starters, which usually makes the race harder.

I played around at and off the front for most of the race.  With 3 laps to go, a group of 4 had about 10 seconds on the field, and I made a solo bid to bridge.  I quickly gained about 5 seconds, then I hit that godawful point where you lungs and legs simultaneously seize up.  I never  made it across.  The field caught me with 1 lap to go, and that was it for me.

Today I might suffer death by frutophilia.  Summer is coming, and the tables at the farmer's markets are already plump with apricots, cherries, peaches, nectarines, and strawberries.  Here's the damage Charity and I did at the market today:

I suspect this will last about 2 days.

Last month's ironweed film is exceptional.  Check out Blue Vinyl if get the chance.  People have asked me repeatedly for OrganicAthlete stickers, and here's why I have refused to purchase anything made of PVC.

A mesquite twig.
Dust in the corners.
His eyes follow a penny-size
watermelon rind ride
a train of ants from the compost bucket
across the floor
to the crack under the screen door.

9 a.m.  The sun is high.
Cool tiles sooth his cracked feet,
as he leans on a broom.

Smartly, as if to say,
"Darling, I love you."
he opens the refrigerator door,
pulls out the spoiled milk,
and pours it down the drain.

Wow...Andrew Bird in concert.

And wow again...Ben Gibbard in concert.

And for you Smiths' fans...Johnny Marr's new band Modest Mouse in concert.