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May 6, 2013
Some folks call it global warming while others are taking to the rosily auspicious title, global weirding. While I certainly don’t like what it’s doing to tear apart the environment, displace people and native animals from their homes with blistering wildfires, rising tides, shrinking arctic, and likely causing countless cancers with these caustically unnatural molecules floating through the air — all that aside, this particular week in Colorado is being dubbed global awesoming. Or maybe I should just call it Colorado Awesoming to really zero in on the issue. Yeuup, I’m having a good time.
After an all too speedy but successful swing through New England after the spring Classics of which you can see the highlights in this brief photo essay, I hopped aboard a plane bound for the crisp, thin air of Colorado.
Tour of California is next on the racing horizon, so an amalgamation of friends, family, and ample New England training in late April provided me the opportunity to press-and-hold what I call the Life Reset button. Thoroughly brought back up to speed on life, backed mail, and bills, plus it brought me here to the Centennial State. The first few days upon Coloradan touchdown, I was with my aunt and uncle, with whom I lived briefly back in 2001 when I had a few months of relaxing, outdoorsy reprieve before starting college. So not exactly parents to me, they’re superb people whom I know and love and like to pretend to call my three-months surrogate parents. Back then in aught-one, I soaked up the mountain life and continued to cement Colorado in my mind as an excellent place to someday call home — that is, when I hang up my bike and move more permanently out of my suitcase. Ahh, someday…
So now thoroughly lost in the time warp that I’ve unfolded to you above, fast forward to last week, the weather was stellar here in Colorado those first few days, the training was stunning as testament to my laser precise tan lines, which had previously long been hidden by the arctic freeze across Europe all spring. Here I am soaking in natural excellence near the very top of Flagstaff.
This being spring in Colorado, they’ve already received their standard alternating snowy dump/beautiful weather/blizzard/stunning weather that’s characteristic of this area the past month or two. Thinking that this was now out of the system — especially with the last storm less than a week ago dropping a foot of snow in Boulder — it came to some as a surprise that there was another big’n in the forecast.
Because it’s been so frigging freezing across Europe the previous six months, I finally had my first hard effort amid 70 degree heat which resulted in acidic sweat burning my eyes. It hurt so good. So that happened one day and then I woke up to this the next day. Please note Timmy front and center out for a morning hunt with Karli:
Let me toss in the reminder that this is Colorado Awesoming, so how does one make limeade from these limes? I hung out with my cousins by road tripping it to Denver to speak to my cousins’ 2nd and 3rd grade class. It’s hilarious speaking to really well versed seven and eight year olds as found here in the fittest state in the nation, Colorado. For example, when one of these adorable kiddos politely raises his hand when I am telling the crew about the “Tour of Colorado” by correctly explaining that it’s the “USA Pro Cycling Challenge”… now that’s a kick.
Cousin Billy, with his radical bleach streaked hair and his ear to ear grin, is just a little bit stoked that he got to bring me to school for Show-and-Tell.
It’s not just fun and games and making excuses when there’s a blizzard spewing outside. Back to Boulder and back to the office.
And, of course amid Colorado Awesoming, one day later we had a bit of this cloudless sky and brisk perfect training weather.
And on a side note, I also met Justin’s of Justin’s Nut Butter fame. He’s the frigging man, so I’m mildly star struck in this photo. The King of Nut Butters meets the King of… iamtedKING. The entire operation at Justin’s is outstanding — their original farmers’ market to going big story, their ethics and ethos, and best yet their FLAVOR. Consider me a fan.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at May 6th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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April 30, 2013
I frequently post food pics and if I made the masterpiece itself, I’m often asked for the recipe. While there is most certainly a time and a place for the rigidity of cooking directly from a cookbook, my take on the culinary world is more artistic. The chef is allowed artistic creativity and the creative process to do as (s)he pleases — a pinch of this, a smidgen of that, and a dash of something else. When in doubt, try it out. I will often do a little homework online or flip through a cookbook for rough amounts, but after that it’s all left to the imagination. And memory.
So I made some pulled pork not too long ago and hosted a big ol’ dinner. It wasn’t pulled pork in the southern BBQ sense, but more of a slow roasted, spicy carnitas recipe that we served with pico de gallo, some frijoles, and atop a tortilla. This was Mexican night in Girona. Ole!
I was asked for the recipe for this carnitas/pulled pork, but I don’t have a rote, verbatim recipe. Instead, what follows below is my stab at pulled pork. And since I was asked for the recipe on no few than two occasions but the diners on hand, I trust it was at least palatable. Ready? Cook!
Tedwardo’s Spicy (but not too spicy) Carnitas Deliciosos:
In a nutshell it’s: dry rub, sear, cover and bake sloooowwwww and looowwwwww, then sauce, and shred.
Dry rub recipes you can find online. I usually look at a half dozen and then wing it. Salt, pepper, cayenne, paprika, garlic, brown sugar, maybe clove, cinnamon, cumin, allspice, etc. If you want sweeter, more brown sugar. If you like spicier, more red pepper.
Dry rub recipes are always insanely too large. If you follow the typical recipe, you’ll probably end up making enough for a BBQ once per week for the entire summer. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Just a heads up. Furthermore it stores well since it’s just spices. Even if you “contaminate” it and have it touch the raw meat, just put the excess in a bag and freeze it. (And if it’s not contaminated, also freeze it. Just ’cause I said so.)
Next go buy a pork shoulder. Or “pork butt”. Or “Boston pork butt”. I don’t know why they have these names but surely Google does. This buying step is easier said than done in Spain than America. And now a brief story: I was at the big Red Market in Girona and I asked for a “pork shoulder please” (in Spanish, of course. I think “uno hombro de cerdo, por favor” was my request) and as I waited and my eyes drifted the other way, my adorable little old lady server pulled out AN ENTIRE HALF 200 POUND PIG out of the freezer! It was great. I casually responded, “Naw, that’s a bit large” and bought something 1/100th the size. That’s all just a heads up; if you ask for a pork butt, I imagine you’ll get the latter regions of tripe. And if you ask for a Boston pork butt, they’ll have no idea what you’re saying. Good luck.
I truly think any big piece of pork will do. But for sure ideally you have bone-in. More flavor, far less dry, well worth it.
I’ve had my best results when there’s an entire 1″ layer of skin/fat on half the cut. I chop most of that off to the best of my speedily ability. Again, just like the bone, leaving some on will keep it moist. Furthermore if you’re scared of fat, this entire thing cooks in the most miraculous fashion that the juices all fall to the bottom, TONS of fat falls to the bottom, then you later separate these two components and you have some delicious, super lean meat. Magic? Almost. Exquisite? Obviously.
Cut off obvious bits of fat too, in addition to that skin.
Next put the meat into a plastic bag and chuck in some dry rub. Ehh, probably a 1/2 cup of rub. Shake shake shake.
Put a pan on the stove and chuck it up to high. Get it hot. Then wait another minute so it can get even hotter. I don’t bother using oil but you can if you want. And if you do, make it smoke!
Delicately huck meat into the pan and after waiting a little while, roll it around so that all sides get browned. Maybe 90″-2′ per side. If it’s getting blackened that’s totally fine.
Next put the meat into an oven-capable pan and then into a preheated oven at about 250F. Save yourself some serious clean up and line the pan with aluminum foil. Then cover the pan and seal it best you can with more foil. Or a lid. Whatever.
I’m sure there’s a simple formula for time as a function of weight. If the meat is about 1/2 the size of a proper NFL football, then I reckon 8 hours. Or find a proper recipe and Google it. But I’m yet to find overcooking it to be possible. And undercooked pork is gross so don’t bother doing that.
Okay it’s now afternoon and your pork is done. Remove meat from pan and put all the liquid into some sort of liquid container dealie, relatively carefully. As in, don’t stir or try to mix the liquid or pour it unnecessarily fast. Just pour it into said container. To expedite things, put that into the fridge. Or don’t, frankly I don’t care. As the temperature drops, you’ll see the fat rising to the top and the succulent and spicy jus sinking to the bottom. It’s slightly gelatinous and totally amazing.
Let’s fire up the stove again and over medium-low heat we’re now going to make BBQ sauce. In a stove pan of whatever size you want, mix up ketchup, molasses, random dry rub spices, and a splash of liquid smoke if you’re awesome. Stir and let simmer a bit. Also, skim the fat off the contain I mentioned in the previous paragraph and put that rich, brown pork sauce drippings into the pan. Oh man, that’s the good stuff! Simmer for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 1 minute, whatever.
With your cooked pork now cooled to room temperature, take a fork in each hand and shred it. You will find this step either incredibly tedious or incredibly satisfying. The meat should shread somewhat like a hot knife through butter. And if not, then you did something wrong and just give up now.
Once shredded, pour stove-top-BBQ-sauce-mixture (once you’ve tasted it and given it your nod of approval) over the shredded meat. I’ve found that I almost always have too little liquid. As in, it’s hard to over sauce it. Go nuts here cause the meat is now a sponge and sucks it all up.
Eat. Then eat more because as we recently discussed, it’s lean and therefore good for you.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at April 30th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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April 13, 2013
Hope springs eternal, right? That’s all well and good, but I live in the here and now, so on a much more tangible level: SPRING springs in Europe and that is a very good thing. No sooner was I out the door today when I shed the arm warmers (leg warmers were never even considered) and basked in my solar absorption of vitamin D.
The frigid winter wrath across Europe is finally beginning to subside after the coldest European late winter and early spring that I can remember. And admittedly I’ve only been to Europe since I dabbled in 2005 and on the reg’ beginning in 2009, but still this spring has been freakin’ weird. And unequivocally cold! Let’s all remember that Gent-Wevelgem was the coldest day on record in the entire Flander’ish region since the late 1800s. That’s brisk baby.
It’s amazing how much of a difference this makes in my overall well-being. I previously thought that seasonal affective disorder was hocus-pocus or else just a complaint among people who had exceptionally thin skin in combination with their extreme warm-bloodedness. Heck, I love winter. With maple syrup running through my veins, it’s probably the New England in me having grown up on ice skates and skis that says I love cold temperatures. But just as the belting hot sun melts away the snow, there is some magical combination of a cloudless sky, warm temperatures, birds chirping, and flowers budding that makes my smile morph to an even bigger smile and then I’m in a very good mood. In so many words: finally, it’s nice out. (…for now)
There’s no rest for the weary, however. As soon as I arrived home to Girona just yesterday — after a mighty successful Spring Classics campaign I might add — to take in my Catalonian spring, I’ve already packed up shop and am off to greener pastures. Or, hopefully at least as green since as you can see in the above photo, Girona is gorgeous right now. First, this evening I head to Tuscany to help with a fun little (read: big) media project for our dear friends at Cannondale. That takes me through the middle of next week as I noodle all about Chianti. And then directly I’ll be off to Los Estados Unidos for a typically action packed few days at home complete with seeing the fam and recharge the batteries (plus hopefully a Bruin’s game, a belated birthday celebration with my bro complete with a well traveled Westvleteren 12, a celebratory dinner or two, plus requisite New England bike slaying adventures) before I storm the high altitude of Colorado and then onto the Tour of California. Phew, makes me tired just thinking about it.
In lieu of rest for the weary, there’s only coffee. Plus jet lag supplemented by napping and more coffee. Ready…? Go.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at April 13th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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April 4, 2013
I am freshly back from logging two weeks in the Belgian arctic, where spring has not yet sprung and Flanders is still wallowing in her natural frigid climes. While I was amid the thousands of cyclists, fans, and journalists begrudging the sub-zero temperatures, we mustn’t forget that this is the northern hemisphere in the very tail end of winter and first week of spring. Prior to 2013 we’d been blessed with at least three years of reasonably warm weather during the Belgian Spring Classics week(s), so the fact that it was blustery and chilly this time around should not actually come as a surprise.
And with that having been said, I wouldn’t be a cyclist worth my salt if I didn’t talk about the weather. It seems anyone upwards of a pack-fodder category 2 racer can speak with at least some degree of proficiency about the meteorological trends of his or her geographical area. Reading a Doppler radar map and knowing what a forecasted 45% chance of precipitation really means is their M.O.
Most teams stick around the cobbled and blustery northern European front this week between Flanders and Roubaix, but we at Cannondale Pro Cycling are given the chance to press and hold the reset button and therefore briefly head home. It’s an opportune way to clear one’s mind, find some semblance of normalcy in life, catch up on missed internet, eat a non-hotel meal, get a few days of proper training in rather than the all too typical-canal-lap-and-coffee-shop-stop, and overall just rest up before bone jarring Paris-Roubaix on Sunday. Reconnaissance be damned(!), I’m perfectly happy sleeping in my own bed.
Embracing these few days of freedom, I did this ride yesterday, which much like Belgium was also horrifically windy, but extremely soul cleansing.
After having nary any skin exposed for the past, ooh, three months and having been particularly bundled up these past two weeks, I set out with both arm and leg warmers yesterday, but soon after removed them and boldly exposed my arms and legs throughout the day – if nothing else to absorb some succulent solar vitamin D. According to the SRM, the average temperature was 15C with a high of 18C, which is about 59 average and a high of 65 for you Fahrenheit fans. Brisk, but relatively balmy and warm. Worth noting for subsequent analysis, I also had a t-shirt length undershirt, thin wool gloves, a thin vest, and a cycling cap.
With a Strava ride title such as it is regarding clothing choice, waking up today I was heartily entertained by the detailed dialogue going on in the comments section of that ride pertaining to said clothing choice. The talk of what to wear, when to wear it, where one’s from, what are one’s standards for weather conditions, and blah blah blah, the comments section of this ride became a forum for cycling clothing nerdery. And therefore needs my input.
My first piece of advice is that it’s all relative. There I was at four in the afternoon, four and a half hours into my five hour day wearing a mere jersey (and aforementioned vest and cap) and shorts when I rode by a friend and cycling colleague. He was five hours into his ride with an hour to go clad in everything I would typically be wearing this past week in Belgium. That is, leg-warmers, a thermal jacket, gloves, and shoe covers. He’s a hearty Canadian and therefore knows cold weather. This is an example of PRO behavior and is certainly acceptable, but harkens back to traditional cyclists’ thinking that if you’re cold, you’re going to get sick. To which I say Boo!
There’s this and this and this and a litany of other results upon searching, “can you get sick by being cold” that scream no. Which is not to say that it is a bad idea to stay warm on rides. Heck, I hate being cold. But to each his (or her) own. Moreover, everyone has an internal furnace and thermostat, so to tell someone that they’re under-dressed or overdressed when whatever it is they’re wearing fits into the realm of mildly reasonable clothing is quite frankly uniformed and naive.
I digress. So what is “correct”? Per the above paragraph, there’s clearly a range of acceptable. And per the paragraph where I had an encounter with my Canadian cycling brethren, there’s a wide range of acceptable clothing options.
After the rave reviews of my last homemade chart, let’s create another one. Although this one will be more congruent and easier to read plus color coordinated, since we all know that red means hot and blue means cold… and apparently yellowy-orange means something in the middle. This chart breaks down what percentage of your current riding attire should consist of each of the following clothing types – Frigid, Medium, and just plain Jersey & Shorts – based on the temperature which is found in the Y-axis. This is pure science so pay attention.
Frigid Weather Gear means as much Gore-Tex, windproof, and thermal clothing as you can afford. Oh, your big bad self is sponsored and therefore can “afford” everything? Super. Put it all on cause it’s cold out. The rubbery’est of thick, rubbery shoe-covers are a must, mittens are mandatory over gloves, and a balaclava face mask is highly recommended. Undershirts should resemble long-underwear as if you’re going skiing or ice climbing; that is, thick and long sleeve. Function over fashion here; you’ll likely look like a bloated oaf with all this gear, but it’s better than hypothermia and losing a few digits to frostbite.
Medium Weather Gear means it’s time to sub out your thermal/windproof/water resistant tights from above for mere bib shorts and leg-warmers. Conveniently you may now stow away your thermal jacket when arm-warmers and a jersey will do. Alternatively long-sleeved jerseys are a superb item. Vests fit snugly into this category, both the ambiguously titled “wind” vests and the much sturdier thermal vest. I don’t use the word gilet because I think it’s dumb. Furthermore, if you use the word gilet, then you likely fit into the category of person who might wear this sort of gilet. In which case… I’m very sorry. Undershirts consist of all sleeve lengths depending on your preference: long, t-shirt, or sleeveless. Hand garments are still generally long fingered, but considerably thinner than Frigid Gear. Furthermore, mittens are not in this category. Shoe covers are frequently over-socks. Stylish and functional although not so much when it’s raining out. Wearing time trial specific shoe covers is generally pretty lame, unless you have a shoe sponsor conflict and you’re therefore covering up your own errors. Then I’ll let it slide. An iamnotTedKing neckgaiter is arguably the most functional item in this category and cycling caps are pretty darn handy too.
Jersey & Shorts means just that. Short fingered gloves are acceptable if you are racing, motorpacing, or if you have sketchy bike handling skills and might crash yourself in training and you value your hands. But otherwise, please consider going sans gloves. I met a kid once who told me that he always wore a cycling cap because that that was his thing. It was about 99 degrees outside and you couldn’t stand in the sun without breaking into a ferocious sweat. But he was my competition at the time and if overheating and sweating unnecessarily is his thing, then his detriment is my benefit and I let him go on his merry way.
You will notice that there is no category above titled Just Bibs. Even when it’s stiflingly hot out and you want to work off your farmer’s tan you should never ride without a jersey. Rules are rules, my friends. Furthermore I don’t care if it’s your thing.
So that’s a wrap for today. Stay warm, stay cool, stay well dressed, and have a super day.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at April 4th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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March 31, 2013
Groundhog Day! The calendar reads just one or two years later, but a quick scroll through my memory rolodex and I’ve been here before. Yup, Ronde Van Vlaanderen Eve. This being year number three, I see the familiar sights and I recognize friendly faces from our hotel and even around Kortrijk – homebase for the past two weeks. The roster has had some minor tweaks and obviously we’re racing with the flashy Cannondale Pro Cycling colors, but with a few fewer butterflies in my stomach than years’ past, I’m ready for the Ronde.
To others, maybe it’s Christmas Eve since the RVV is their religion. Yup, it sounds like hyperbole, but if people can worship the sun, then I’m fairly certain there are folks who bow to the hallowed cobbles and repeated climbs of Flanders.
So with the pillar of the spring classics on tap in just a few hours, we spun 2013′s final team easy ride up and down the Kortrijk canal, had one last trip to the cafe/bakery/chocolate shop, and one last photo op with the friendly folks inside. Lots of horizontal time today with naps, massage, and generally exerting ourselves as little as humanly possible occupying the majority of the day.
So until next year Kortrijk, hasta la pasta! Meanwhile, we’re going to bed hoping to be doing some of this in 24 hours.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at March 31st, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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March 25, 2013
I rode the trainer for exactly 41 minutes this morning. Today is March 23, 2013 which is the day after E3/Harelbeke and the day before Gent-Wevelgem. Were it not for the ripping wind outside, the pelting snow flurries, and the temperatures hovering around freezing, we would have gone for a standard one hour recovery ride up and down the canal, capped off with a serpentine ride through downtown Kortrijk and a lengthy stay at our favorite coffee shop/bakery – or bakkerij as I say in my finest Flemish.
This is also Easter week. Over the past three years as a result of a spring Classics race program I’ve come to really savor my time in Belgium during this particular slot of time on the calendar. Weather over these years has been generally agreeable so that the daffodils are budding, colorful Easter decorations are everywhere – but in a warm welcoming sense, as opposed to the abrasive Christmas decorations spotted in September; plus especially on the sunny days as we wind through Kortrijk, there is a friendly buoyancy in the air.
Today also marks ten years since my dad’s stroke which occurred March 23, 2003. As he says with his fondness for all things nautical, it’s the day that took the wind out of his sails. Homeward bound and driving north on the New Jersey turnpike from a collegiate bike race, I remember the exact feeling I had as I heard the news that Dad was in the hospital. Like a swift punch to the gut taking the wind out of me, I literally couldn’t breathe.
I can recount most of where I’ve been on each March 23rd for the past decade. Where my mind grows fuzzy, I scroll through past training logs for an easy and exact reminder. Cycling has clearly characterized the past ten years of my life since every single one of those March 23rds featured a big training day with the exception of 2007 when there was a number pinned to my back and I was racing Redlands.
With inclement weather churning outside and feeling as if it’s still the dead of winter, today has just had a very strange cloud hanging over it. My mind is spinning somewhere, everywhere, and nowhere all at the same time. Which somehow is a bit like riding the trainer, therefore going literally nowhere on a rest day for 41 minutes, sandwiched into the most animated week of bike racing of the year.
My thoughts today always turn back to Dad, both my incredible parents, my entire family, and what we’ve been through the past ten years. It’s impossible for me to describe what it’s like living with a brain injury, but as the son of a brain injury survivor all I can say is that it changes everything: the emotional, the physical, the mental. Every day presents its challenges back home – imagine injecting Novocain into the entire left side of your body rending it numb, next put a sock over your left hand to remove nearly all acute dexterity, and now go about your day, your year, your life. It’s a silly comparison, but likely as literally accurate as I can offer.
What’s incredible is that while a stroke often and easily tears families apart, there is still every bit as much love and support in our family as before – in fact, I would say more. After some troubling periods, Dad has come to graciously accept all that’s transpired. In fact, talking with my parents who are back home in New Hampshire this morning, he announced that he is as happy as he has ever been in his life. My parents are an incredible source of inspiration and resolute determination. It’s therefore flipping through these training logs and seeing the places I’ve been all across the globe each Easter week – with considerably more away from my family than with – that I recognize all the more how much support they truly provide.
Hopefully someday soon this frigid, dank weather will lift across the European continent and we can race in conditions more suitable to short sleeves. Tomorrow’s Gent-Wevelgem has already been shortened and there’s talk of postponing it or canceling it outright because of the weather. I’m absolutely focused on the race at hand, but will still be thinking about my entire family today, tomorrow, yesterday, and always. While the wind howls outside right now, the proverbial breeze is steadily picking up, putting life back into dad’s sails.
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Filed by Ted King at March 25th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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March 9, 2013
Today’s edition of Paris-Nice was hard. It’s 9:30 at night as I peck away at this entry and my legs are erring on the side of sore. Thankfully for Andy, who you’ll meet here below, my fingers hurt slightly less and my brain is still chugging along smooth like butter. Aforementioned Andy asked on Strava how the heck you recover from a day like today. Especially this day in age, this is a super question. So let me dive right in before I pass out.
As soon as a stage finishes, we’re quickly trying to escape the barrage of people pouncing on us for a bidon (that is, in France, they want a bidon, in Italy it’s boracha, in Belgium… well I guess they ask for bottles since they dabble in English there). With all due respect, we’re seeing cross-eyed after the day’s effort so smiling for cameras and being picked apart like indefensible meat from vultures to satisfy someone’s appetite free cycling swag doesn’t rate highly on our to-do list. Sorry to be crass. We’re tired.
Onto the bus and usually you’ll either chug a recovery shake or jump right into the shower, depending on if there’s a line. Some folks make their drink mix with soy milk or regular “white gold” from a tried and true cow udder, but I opt for water since I do a whey based protein recovery drink. It’s delicious, and especially sates my wary muscles.
A shower is a magical thing coming so quickly on the heals of a hard effort. To rinse the road grime off your wary body, out of your ears and eyes and nose is euphoric. Shower: done.
Soon the bus is rolling and we’re sorting our day’s laundry into bags. Soigneurs are a wonderful asset and will have these bags whisked away and into the laundry in no-time-flat upon arrival at the hotel. Their ability to remove a lot of the mindless chores that would otherwise take away from our time is invaluable. Thank you swannies! That goes on their laundry list (yes, pun intended) of things to do to pamper us as much as possible throughout the day/week(s).
There’s usually (…hopefully) a bowl of some type of carbohydrate rich food waiting for us as the bus rolls towards the evening’s hotel. This being an Italian centric team, you can safely guess pasta will be available. Olive oil and salt make for great accompaniment. Thankfully they’ve been mixing it up this week, so potatoes and rice are also occasional options. We even had some rice intermixed with corn, peas, plus diced ham and cheese one day. T’was delightful if for nothing else than the variety.
The fridge has yogurt, all the water you could ever want, Coke, Fanta, and, well that’s it. Oh, one day I saw some iced tea. Actually there’s usually a quarter wheel of Parmesan cheese but taking a bite of that doesn’t sounds terribly appetizing. Fruit is usually bouncing around somewhere too.
Here’s a shot taken from the back of the bus, looking forward out the front window which captures a lot. You can see a teammate gnoshing a plate of food, we’re watching the end of Tirreno-Adriatico on TV, and we’re stuck in the maze of traffic as the exodus of cars winds out of the city center. Dirty laundry, towels, and anything else that looks misplaced is on account of us being treated like babies and the soigneurs will soon clean up after our mess. Have I said thank you yet? Grazie mille rigazzi!
Upon arrival, we’re immediately given our room assignments, by, you guessed it, a soigneur patiently waiting for us. I’ve been rooming with Argentinian awesome guy, Sebastian Haedo, new to the team this year. He’s always happy, forever smiling, and brings some good vibes to our room. Suitcases are waiting in each room – again, thanks to the swannies – and we’re given a massage right away or are second (or third) in line for a good rub. There’s an order of operations what pros prefer: massage, stretching, or a visit from the chiro. Massage is always available, stretching you can obviously do on your solo, and a chiro is occasionally available. I’m a massage-first kind of guy, with stretching and the super visit from a chiro in a dead heat. Unless there’s something clearly not right with my body, perhaps after a recent visit with the pavement. Then I’ll feel well tweaked and a good chiro session is in order.
There’s a food room belonging to one of the sougneurs. I can surely guess with about 98% accuracy which team is which based just on their food room. And surely with 100% accuracy the national origin of the team. Abundant (or absent) peanut butters, maple syrup, certain cereals, are all giveaways. The importance (ergo, cost) of olive oil is a serious indicator. And speculoos means the team is has a generous swanny or else the director hasn’t recently visited the food room to confiscate (read: eat) it.
If I have any energy whatsoever, I’ll do some stretching and then it’s off to dinner, typically at 8pm. I’m not kidding about that; staying in bed often sounds luxurious as compared to standing up and stretching for three minutes.
Back to the room right around internet o’clock. Write a blog about recovery, go pass out for the evening because breakfast is at 8am.
And before I bid you farewell, I will note that I could talk about breakfast at length, but it’s now 10:07 and I’m amply exhausted. I did want to include a picture of breakfast though, because to this day, I still find it fascinating. Pasta for breakfast:
Some folks can do it, but I fervently try to avoid it. Which is why you see an empty bowl of oatmeal, previously occupied by oatmeal, yogurt, a banana, a few nuts, a spoonful of rice, and some raisins in the foreground. Yes that is mine and yes, that’s my Starbucks cup and empty Starbucks Via. Who else would I happily pay $1 for a cup of delicious, instant coffee? Funny enough, I would pay a lot of people that kind of money for such a product! But currently only Starbucks is pulling it off. Any other takers out there in the coffee world, I would pay you 10% over Starbucks to make a similar product! In the meantime, thanks SBUX. And the aforementioned main point of this photo: a heaping plate of pasta, olive oil, and a few scoops of Philadelphia cream cheese for my teammate, right. Breakfast!
I’m beat. See you tomorrow.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at March 9th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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March 5, 2013
It’s baffling to me that a country that invented the Michelin star system for fine dining, and of course therefore being home to the original Michelin Guide, additionally as the hosting country of le Tour de France – the world’s most well renowned bike race – would have such detestable food for bike racers. Actually, this characteristic transcends the culinary realm and extends to all facets of hospitality here while roving France on the two-wheeled circus that is a bike race.
My guess is that this country is simply so accustomed to hosting bike races, that they have since learned all the corners to cut and take full advantage of them. Let me explain.
I wouldn’t be a cyclist if I didn’t have a reason to complain (It’s too hot, it’s too cold, the transfers are too long, the blah blah blah is blah blah blah…), but I ask you to please try to empathize and understand that I’m not exaggerating; ask any European cyclist and they’ll give you the same story. French hotel race food is known for its overcooked pasta and undercooked chicken. After countless plates of cold pasta arrived night after night, it all made sense with my favorite water-logged anecdote: we once asked for another plate of tepid, starchy, gummy pasta – simply for the sake of ingesting calories – and were apologetically turned down. Why, we asked, couldn’t they throw another bag of pasta on the stove for another seven minutes for the perfect al dente bite? Because, they replied, they cook pasta the night before for the following day’s race meal. (Ergo, we also learned that the pasta remains in the pot for many hours while cooling to room temperature, to give it the ideal, French texture of slime.) Seven minutes of cooking, seven seconds of straining, and three seconds of plating… or make it an all day event. Whatever.
And undercooked chicken? That’s their specialty. Gross? Dangerous? I won’t disagree. Meanwhile, I love a good rare steak. It frightens my teammates to be anything besides grizzly, charred gray both inside and out, but a delicately cooked, pink in the middle steak is just what the Doctor Ted King ordered! (I also enjoy a well prepared steak tartare, but central France at a one or two star hotel is not the place to request this from the menu.) Last night’s serving beef, however, was both bloody and cold. Asking for 4 more minutes on the grill was like asking if they would kindly donate to me their annual salary on a silver platter. Begrudgingly, the steak went back.
And since I don’t have any photos today, I’ll insert a Strava file instead:
And now examining beyond fine dining: Picture the smallest room in your house. Perhaps its a closet or maybe a half-bath? Yes, well now put two cyclists and their suitcases in there. Sleep tight fellas!
The year is 2013. Al Gore invented the internet a long time ago. So why can’t we learn that the best way to keep cyclists entertained is with hotels with even mildly functioning internet. The number of skinny, shorn-legged men in the hotel lobby cursing the wifi right now is comical.
And in related news, Paris-Nice has begun here in France, which marks my return to European racing in 2013. I kicked the season into gear back in January and then had a pleasant month free from racing in February, before jumping into the thick of things now in the Race to the Sun. It’s amazing how fast, how hard, and how full bore this race is. In my third go at it, I’ve decided that’s because this is the first big BIG race on the global race calendar, and everyone wants to be guns-a-blazin’. You know it’s a big event on the race calendar if someone voluntarily gave up charcuterie for it.
That’ll do. Au revoir.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at March 5th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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February 28, 2013
Perché no? just recently became ¿Por qué no? Actually, correct that, it became Per què no?
Those translations, all of which read Why Not?, are Italian, next Spanish, and lastly the wild child dialect of Catalan.
I find myself back in Girona, Spain here in 2013 and I’m thrilled to have returned. Having spent the previous two years in Lucca, Italy, I’ve been asked recently why the change. My answer: Per què no?
For a quick back story, when I first jumped the pond to the European peloton in 2009 I spent a very lonely month in the pastoral Swiss countryside before being magnetized to my two-wheeled brethren in Girona. I’m a social dude and hanging with people of my ilk seemed like more fun than hanging with a herd of Swiss cows and aging farm wives named Gertrude (with, of course, all due respect to both Swiss cows and middle aged housewives named Gertrude). Girona has been a cycling hub and destination for decades and in the past few years it really hit its stride. I spent two extremely fun years there through the end of 2010.
I then signed for Liquigas-Cannondale for the 2011 season and without any real roots anywhere, I recognized that transferring to Italy would be an uplifting social experiment as well as a chance to hone my Italian – a wise move as I moved to a team that speaks exclusively Italiano. It is worth pointing out that I went to Italy on my own accord. People often assume that as cyclists we’re living in a bunker as an entire team, but that’s far from the case. I was on my own, as is the case for probably 98% of the pro peloton. Those rare instances where cyclists find themselves at team-owned housing is for a quick weekend escaping bad weather or traveling through out of convenience for an early morning departure to the next race on the team bus located at the service course.
So the past two seasons based in Italy were chalked up as a success. My Italian is now a high level of “functionally fluency” as I call it; I (nearly) always know what’s being said and can (nearly) always say what I want to say. Socially edifying? Absolutely. I made some great friends, learned a thing or two about Chianti Classico, found some outstanding training grounds all throughout the country, and will surely return a dozen years post-cycling with every sight and sound pulling at my heartstrings. Yup, 2011 and ’12 mark two excellent years.
When cyclists are looking for a European cycling HQ, there are a quadruple of requisite bullet point items. I will now bullet point them for you:
- a nearby airport
- a variety of roads – by that I mean, abundant roads and ideally roads with little or no traffic
- ample terrain – pancake flat is nice and all if you’re a farmer, however we want a healthy variety of hills, mountains, and flats… plus everything in between
- amicable weather – by that I mean weather that doesn’t suck
Boom, that’s it. A lot of other secondarily important factors are certainly desired, like friendly people, Michelin starred restaurants, a fun, social atmosphere, nice markets, a lively downtown, and so forth. But in reality the above four bullet points are a magnet for those latter items. Given the first four, you likely find everything you’d ever want in a cycling town.
Towards the end of 2010, a few friends and I did some rough calculations (we call it adding) and came up with about 45 professional cyclists in Girona. Now more than two years later, that number is into the 70s! Clearly, Girona has something people like with Garmin setting up their service course here, as well as lots of GreenEdge, Blanco, UnitedHealthCare, and random smatterings of Sky, Lotto, Saxo, NetApp-Endura, and of course everyone’s favorite, Cannondale.
The first week I back in town in late January and early February, I continually found myself with an ear to ear grin. For whatever reason, Girona has what I was looking for. While Lucca is a phenomenal cycling hotbed and one of the finest places I’ve been lucky enough to call home, I didn’t realize how much I missed Girona until I was back.
A lot of it is simply personal taste; I found that for everything I really liked in Lucca, I found its Catalan partner in Girona. There are some indisputable differences to go along with the subjective ones. Certainly there is less traffic here in Girona, it takes less time to find yourself on sparsely traffic’d training roads, there are more cyclists (for better or worse – this is actually the chief complaint from a lot of cyclists and surely motorists here in town), the climbs are less steep but longer, the roads are wider and are in generally better condition.
Additionally, the Catalan lifestyle is a bonus in my book, as things here just seem más tranquilo. You want something shipped to you? Then do it and it won’t be banging around in customs for months on end. You want to mail something? Then go to the post office and you won’t wait seven hours to buy a stamp. Care to use your cell phone inside? Then I encourage you to do that (…whereas in Italy, cell reception doesn’t penetrate neither a two-inch piece of dry wall nor a two-foot thick stone wall). You need to go to the store? Well then go any day except Sunday! (…comparatively in Italy, they celebrate an inordinate number of random mid-week holidays, unbeknownst to the American cyclists, so that things are seemingly inexplicably closed on a startlingly regularly basis.)
These examples do show that it’s all relative, though, to the Americans living here in Spain since I’ve found that my cohorts think that things operate at a frustratingly sluggish pace here! Meanwhile, I’m basking being back in a country that seems to operate, how do you say… as it’s supposed to. Again, don’t get me wrong, because there’s something charming and novel about the pace of things in Italy. The energy of life is palpable there, whether you see two dapperly dressed, elderly gentlemen on a street corner arguing about surely something as trivial as cheese, or the Fiat 500 that whizzed by you on the road built for the width of just one and a half cars.
Anyway, it’s time to go to bed. It’s only 11pm, so I’m not quite in sync with the Spanish dining lifestyle. I think I can hear my neighbor waking up from siesta now and are thinking about dinner and a trip to the disco. But to answer the question, why am I back? Why not.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at February 28th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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January 29, 2013
We have one final stage today remaining here in San Luis – a circuit race up and down the main drag out to the lake. No stranger to this
stretch of road, it’s somehow fitting to cap off the race with what will amount to a very fast parade along the same road we’ve ridden most this week.
As for racing in South America in the dog days of the summer, you can probably guess the talking points without deep extrapolation here. For example:
- Yes, it’s very hot (typically 95-110F).
- It’s often incredibly windy. The wind has woken me up on no fewer than three occasions in the middle of the night, and if you’ve been studying my Strava in any detail, you’ll see 40+kph averages at sub-average wattage. Yup, generally tailwinds.
- Having traveled to many pockets of the globe, the landscape here reminds me of Tucson, Arizona. That is, very arid, similar to a desert, with a touch of green spotted here and there (but lacking Saguaro cactus, since they are characteristic of only the Sonoran Desert of Arizona. Duh.).
- This race features strong Argentine domestic and South American continental talent bumping elbows with some of the best riders on the planet. Pride, bragging rights, and the admiration of the incredibly ebullient crowd gives the locals an even greater boost of turbo when needed. Hence the dude leading the race ahead of the Van Garderens and Contadors of the world from right here in San Luis.
But what about the stuff you might not otherwise be even thinking about. Take the absurd abundance of escort motorcycle marshals and police cops, for example. Would you have guessed that they all have sirens blaring to the tune of the obnoxious, multi-toned, American car alarm?! Always. And more impressively, 97.5% of the time, the sirens are being used completely unnecessarily. Friendly cop-man, you’re passing in the left lane, with a median strip between you and us, there’s not a single person, car, animal, or any interference whatsoever in you lane… but you have 120 decibels of ear splitting alarm going… why?
Or how about the transfers and method of travel before and after races. Besides touring Las Vegas, I’m not aware of Americans being accustomed to double-decker buses. So in last year’s edition of this race, all riders were funneled into fairly plush (although kind of disgusting with big leather seats and nary working air conditioning) double-deckers and off we went. This being the modern times of 2013 though, each team is given a Sprinter van and chauffeur. Accustomed as we are to rock-star buses of Europe complete with massive chairs, showers, bathrooms, etc, it is here in Argentina with bikes in stowage in the back and packed away in petite chairs that we look like this – If you’re not asleep or playing Angry Birds, wave to the camera fellas!
With the double-decker buses accommodating travel for all riders, one might accurately guess that there is a fair amount of waiting around since all riders must wait for all other riders before the bus gets rolling and we return to the hotel. Right? Right. You might therefore think that with each team having its own van and driver, we can finish a stage, clean up, pack up, and hit the road ASAP, which is invaluable since stages finish around 6pm, making for very late evenings of massage, shower, dinner, and rest. However, nay to that. Once loaded on board, we begin an unnecessarily slow caravan back to the hotel. With a police escort blaring that car alarm warning to everyone on the road (of which, there is virtually no one on the road), no matter how much or how often we pester our driver to floor it, he points to this stupid red sign reading ”Limite de velocidad” that has the ability to flash and beep if he exceeds 90kph, which is well below 60mph. On the highway.
Driving through the baking desert for up to 2.5 hours on end, we were blessed with air conditioning… on the first day. Thankfully our seats are foam so they soak up our back sweat instead of pooling up like those plush, leather, double-decker bus seats.
That’s all she wrote for now. Tootleoo.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at January 29th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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