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January 25, 2013
I suppose there are certainly worse things than being called “deluxe“.
And to wrap up this extremely short post, here’s a photo to quench your thirst for cycling photography amid the arid Argentinian landscape. Like, here’s one from Mr. Brian Hoades of my former teammate and all around good guy Thor and me having a chat.
And with that, it’s time to go race a time trial.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at January 25th, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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January 21, 2013
One, that is, referring to the number of days left in the off-season/pre-season/whatever-you-want-to-call-it-before-you-race-again-in-the-subsequent-season.
2013 kicks into high gear with the Tour of San Luis here in the San Luis’ian region of Argentina. While not exactly old hat just yet, I did this race in 2012 with respectable success since we came home with a win for Elia Viviani.
Meanwhile, all is good in Team Cannondale Pro Cycling Land, which is where I file for residency. We wrapped up a pretty remarkable team presentation with the glam of Hollywood as the backdrop just last week. You may call me King… Ted King.
Needless to say, I looked awesome in my rented tux and plastic black shoes. Ahh yes, and green socks.
So after exemplary riding in the Malibu Hills and a festive Californian send-off, we began a roughly 42 hour trek to Argentina. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, but we opted to go through Atlanta instead. Arriving in Argentina is a treat as this is a really nice re-introduction to racing since the weather is sunny and warm (err, baking hot), the local scene is very casual and generally this is a low stress environment. Sure, there is a world class field here, the 100+ degree heat and sun present harsh weather, the parcours are certainly not easy, but most ProTour teams field just six riders to balance the local national teams starting as many as ten riders(!).
Moreover the vibe is extremely friendly. For example, everyone drives around happily honking and with their wives/children/or themselves draped out of their car windows videoing our training, since I think this is the most exciting thing to happen to San Luis since last year’s edition of the race (…although the monsoon that washed through town two nights ago presenting noteworthy flooding was rather heart-pumping too). Plus the honking of horns is always indicative of an exuberant HOLA! rather than honking in place of four letter explicatives as we are so accustomed in North America.
And a quick “Tour” de San Luis to give you a lay of the land:
Typical ride. View to the right, not much going on…
…the view to the left, also not much going on, although there are some mountains…
…and then now descending those same mountains…
…and of course, into the town square. This photo doesn’t do it justice, but it is in the town square where around 7:46pm every day there are, in the words of Peter Sagan “more people than New York City on New Years Eve! …I think. I never been. Only see on the TV.”
Good stuff, good stuff. The bike’s ready, I’m ready, team’s ready, now time to go race a bike! Tomorrow.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at January 21st, 2013 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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December 31, 2012
I’ve expanded my packing list so that when preparing for adventures of life on the road, you now need a wallet, passport, cycling shoes, and cell phone. So after having invested entirely too many hours in packing and preparing your suitcases for months of home-away-from-home living, if everything else is lost then you can either buy new stuff on arrival, or in reality you just don’t need it. #TipsFromTed You’re welcome.
I hit the road two days ago and will be a nomadic cyclist for, umm… a while. Fresh back from the first training camp for the 2013 season in Tuscany in mid-December, I embraced a scenic, white Christmas in New Hampshire before jetting out to the bay area of California. I’ll set up shop here for not quite a week, then come early January I’ll spend nearly ten days in sunny SoCal, complete with a bold and brash team presentation for the new Cannondale Pro Cycling, followed by travels to Argentina where I’ll have my second go at the Tour of San Luis, and then onto Europe for my spring campaign which runs through Paris-Roubaix. No moss grows under my feet, which is a weird expression, although I suppose it’s literally true so I’ll go with it.
Home sweet home for the holidays was exactly that. In recent years I can be found returning stateside from team camps about 48 hours before Christmas, which is a surefire way to be unjolly and brimming with stress. So it was a peaceful alternative when we were wheels down in Boston a full 10 days prior to Christmas, and it was merely three hours later that I donned my most festive yuletide apparel and was off to the first Christmas party of the season.
“Ho Ho Ho” indeed.
Mind you, that vest is reversible to a plaid green and white which is twice as amazing as it sounds.
A few other holiday parties filled my time home, in addition of course to riding my bike a’plenty. In two weeks home I was on the trainer a mere trio of days and the rest was a mix of neoprene, Gore-Tex, and sweet fenders. The trip home also provided a mirthful Christmas at my aunt and uncle’s house in Portland, ME. At every family holiday gathering, aunt Betsy provides some table-side party favors that are highly entertaining and in all likelihood made in China. My earphone-earmuffs were a hit this year, but the real crowning jewel to the dinner festivities were Dad’s stick-on mustaches which he generously shared with his two boys.
Goodness, if we three Kings don’t look regal and distinguished then I don’t think anyone does!
From there it was onto Wednesday and with just 364 days until next Christmas I had a smashing day on the bike. That was followed by a delicious home-smoked dinner of salmon and pork ribs, and while I can’t make the direct connection and I’m vehemently not pointing fingers at anyone involved, I then had a very unsavory 12 hour bout of food poisoning. Thank the good Lord I recovered miraculously because the next day, Thursday, was Mom’s birthday. And for goodness sake, if I’m going to be on the road as much as I am, I sure as shootin’ better be a good son and be home for Mom’s birthday. So I was.
When it’s written in cursive and in chocolate, you know it’s sincere! Even if they forget to cross the “t” and dot the “i”.
(Another sign of sincerity is when your two sons take you to one of New England’s finest eateries, Arrows Restaurant. You’re the BEST Mom! I love you and happy happy birthday… again.)
Yet another high point in this snowy time home was trying to remove my car from the driveway. A mere 4 inches of snow fell one day, but then it was topped by a crusty layer of rain and ice. My new snow tires didn’t stand a chance to such treacherous conditions. In an hour of shoveling, pushing, and tractor pulling (no lie), we finally got my car out of our 1% gradient and 100 foot long driveway. (That awesome noise you hear is the tractor idling in the background, waiting to give her snow-chained all.)
There is, of course, this YouTube masterpiece which is precisely what I was trying to avoid. Which we did, thankfully.
Well, life on the road continues and while I should wrap up this post right now, I’ll just say that from time to time I like to jump into my Way-way-back-machine and reminisce the days of yore. There’s this, for example – I decided that after having what feels like lived out of a suitcase for a few years, despite having apartments in various countries throughout my career, it was time to decorate my plastic’y, wheeled home with some housewarming accoutrements and make it really feel like proper digs. I’m still a huge fan of Santa Clause hanging out on my roof with Steve’s submission to that contest.
Okay, time for more adventures. Tootle-oo!
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at December 31st, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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December 16, 2012
Two more days of team camp here in southwestern Tuscany. These 48 hours represent two more chances for the most meager breakfast offerings one has ever seen in the modern world, as well as four salads – one lunch, one dinner for both days – so large that a normal person would deem them beyond healthy and well into the realm of grotesque. “Is your skin supposed to turn green when you’ve eaten many many pounds of spinach?”
Following the tail of my last entry, Tips from Ted, the inevitable question of diet arrived to my inbox. It’s wonderfully vague as Dan asks, “Diets tips would be greatly appreciated, Ted!”
Balance, Dan, you need to find balance. That’s my M.O. in this adventure called life, anyway. It extends from family to friends to travel to work to education to lifestyle to business to pleasure… to food. Life is about riding waves so that when you’re having fun, you’re HAVING FUN. Yup, caps-lock, full-gas, fun. And then when you’re deep into business, you’re serious, you’re 100% laser focused, get the job done. When you’re on top of the wave, you’re ON. When you’re in the nadir, you’re traaaaaaanquillo.
Food, namely good food, provides me enormous pleasure. All facets of food in fact, whether it’s sitting at a fine restaurant or standing next to an authentic taco cart, strolling and absorbing the colorful, aromatic, and bustling alleys of a fresh food market, or my time spent in the kitchen which I find tremendously cathartic, food provides incalculable joy to life.
(I recognize that this isn’t the case for everyone. There is a teammate of mine for the past two years whom I have never witnessed eat anything that is not some dull shade of white. He eats bread, pasta bianco, rice, and chicken, as well as such riveting toppings as salt, olive oil, and Parmesan cheese.
NEVER have I seen him consume a single vegetable nor piece of fruit. Ever. Mind you, I spend consecutive days and up to two weeks with my teammates between races, camps, and media escapades. For someone who’s job is critically hinged on the consumption of food as fuel, this is nothing if not mind-bending to me.)
I digress.
This past year, I’ve had the distinct and delicious pleasure to eat at a variety of pillars of cuisine. In no particular order, America’s greatest chef, Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc, Sam Hayward’s Fore Street in the homey heart of Portland, Chris Cosantino’s always exciting Incanto (I highly recommend his twitter feed, @OffalChris for mouth watering food porn), Michael Chiarello’s Bottega (where I dined, ahem… twice in consecutive days), Tuscan butcher and restauranteur Dario Cecchini’s Antica Macelleria Cecchini, the pillar of Boulder’s fine dining scene, Frasca, and James Beard award winning restaurant Husk in charming Charleston, SC. Indubitably, the icing on the cake – or the pat of fois gras resting delicately atop the seared fois gras – was the final night of my season when Timmy and I gluttonously dined at Au Pied de Cochon.
Food porn to end all food porn: Anthony Bourdain’s “Food Porn” episode of No Reservations at Au Pied de Cochon.
The point being, Dan, you need to thoroughly enjoy the food when you’re enjoying food. If you want dessert, eat dessert. I suppose the “tip” here is just be sure you’ve somehow deserved it or earned it or know you’ll be stream-line-focused the next time you’re on the bicycle. Ride the wave, man. In a similar vain, that means eat the real ice cream; don’t cheat yourself by slurping the chemical rich, low-fat, low-cal, aspartame sweetened garbage. And goodness gracious, I hope you know my feelings on real maple syrup as opposed to the corn syrup supplemented with corn syrup, Log Cabin Bottle of Gross. When you eat, eat. When you work, work. When you’re on top of the wave, ride the wave. When you’re off the wagon, hop off the wagon.
Let’s now bring it full circle and jump right up to the present. We are currently amidst the 2013 Team Cannondale Pro Cycling‘s December training camp for the past week and a half and I’ve seen the weight plummet like, oooh let’s say a hot knife shredding through butter. It’s inevitable because my game-day business face is back on as it’s been since November the first, so even though Italy is world renowned for exquisite yet startlingly simple cuisine, that means salad raised to the power of salad here at camp. Hellooooooo lettuce!
What does a post ride 100g plate of pasta look like? It looks like 29 lonely pieces of penne.
Who wants protein? I want protein! Who wants a feast from the sea? Well actually I do, but instead we will have a small filet of white fish.
Dessert? Ha, yeah right. “Dessert” is a modest apple. Three hour ride food? Creativity be damned, how about that apple again. And there’s always more sparkling water if we’re really hungry.
Now finding ourselves ten days deep into camp, eating like Oliver Twist, racking up hours both on the new steed and in the gym, the body fat percentage is down nearly two full points and the kgs are in the realm of scrawny and again. In fact, it was just this morning I noticed a new rib bonily protruding from my mid section. Great success.
Of course, this is just a simple Tip from Ted, Dan… and everyone else. Take this with a grain or entire bagful of salt. You could always subscribe to another dietician’s advice and blandly eat exclusively from the White food group.
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at December 16th, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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November 5, 2012
Today is November 2, which means the 2013 season began yesterday. Except that yesterday was spent by yours truly on an airplane and then kicking it at the airport, so the season actually started today. Mark your calendars everyone, November 2 is the new November 1.
More to the point, all the fun and travel and adventure and excitement and baked goods and beers and copious wine and overall gluttonous living and burning the candle at both ends in order to maximize all things awesome have come to a close. Which is only slightly ironic that I now find myself in Napa for the better part of November – there are nooooo good restaurants nor wine here, right? Right. Good.
We can all agree that over the past month the internet has experienced a noticeable dearth of anything interesting. The fact that I haven’t written on this website in a month exhibits an starkly obviously correlation. So in order to bring you all back up to speed, please allow me to take you along my travels over the past 45′ish days, where we’ll rehash a bit of September and then tackle October before we all jump into November together.
Mid-September brought me to the rugged and pastoral Green Mountain state of Vermont. Which brings up a point of confusion in regards to me. Not that it really matters nor should you care, but let me clear the air and announce here and henceforth that I’m from New Hampshire, still have residence in New Hampshire, attended college in Vermont, have family in Connecticut, visit Massachusetts frequently when am back in New England, and we have a family island house in Maine of which I am the sixth generation to be lucky enough to summer there. (Yes, summer is a verb when you’re a snotty New Englander lucky enough to have a summer house in Maine.) Got it? Again, good.
Vermont brought great weather and some stunning scenery. That will likely be the theme of these past 7+ weeks since I seem to only go to stunningly beautiful places in the offie.
I participated in my requisite “handful” of cross races, which is anything from one to six depending on my level off off-season vigor. You’d be smart to guess that I’m smoking everyone and winning in this photo at the Green Mountain Cyclocross weekend. Unfortunately, you would be incorrect.
Speaking of, umm… beautiful landscapes, I made my way to Las Vegas for Interbike for the first time in a trio of years. Which was thrilling as usual and well worth the trip, but reminded me that I only need to visit Sin City once every three years to feel perfectly satiated in the department of overwhelming senses. Bright lights, loud noises, caustic smells, and delicious food. I also bought these shorts for myself. They are stunning.
Lining up 5th row, even with my copious UCI points (or maybe UCI point, singular. I don’t remember) did not help my cause at CrossVegas. The field was STACKED. Worse yet, the officials warned us that we would be immediately ejected if we took a beer feed. Which is lame as heck since it was hot as balls. Thankfully after a few embarrassing laps, I pulled myself together as well as pulled $10 worth of dollar hand-ups. That’s ten bucks more than anyone else who finished well out of the money like I did. Suckers.
I graciously have stolen this photo from Danny Munson. The crowd looks riveted.
The best way of celebrating a criterium in your home city is to win it! However, when the field is lined top to bottom with crit racers and when you haven’t raced a crit in a quarter-dozen years (that’s three years if you’re counting along today), then the next best way to celebrate is to sign some dude’s cast at the start line.
Early October had me treking down the eastern seaboard, beginning in NH, down to VA by way of NYC, then back to PA, and onto CT, and back to NH. This is all of course well before that heinous bit#& Hurricane Sandy reared her ugly head so things were still tranquil and beautiful. This photo is from the PA portion with the Bicycling Fall Classic; in particular, this is the ride winning final breakaway (“ride” and not “race”). Those thousand of us smart enough to disregard the weather forecasters call for rain, who were entirely incorrect, had an incredible day in the saddle.
Remember hanging out with my cousins? Well two weeks after kicking it with them in Vermont during my glorious VT50 win, I swung through CT and had a Patriots game, massive dinner, watched a four year old break dance the night away, and went for a bike ride to the center of town the next day. 2.6 miles round trip. Ayuup, all of 2.6 miles. Off season watts!
I may have mentioned gluttonous living and sweetbreads are nearly always categorized in the over the top delicious/over the top surely unhealthy column. Here they are at Fore Street, which I would argue is the best restaurant east of the Mississippi. Don’t believe me? Give it a try.
I went hiking a quartet of times and twice with my good friend Damon. I also attended his wedding this fall, so hats off to him for getting married during the season in which I can actually attend his wedding. As for the hike, it was warm and pleasant down at basecamp 1, then frigid and pleasant at the summit.
It has also been three years since I attended the Dempsey Challenge last. It’s up in the middle of nearly nowhere Maine and it’s truly amazing the number of people who come from far and wide to catch a glimpse of Patrick Dempsey. Thankfully, I’m called up as a VIP rider so I get to hang out with him and end up as the buffer amid a gaggle of frenzied soccer moms. It’s very entertaining. Plus there’s Gritty’s for ample late night entertainment.
The 38 degrees of rain on ride day were enough to make me want to keep trucking the entire day and not really stop and warm up (because warm up is followed promptly by cool down). But the day before was another smaller ride and I got to know Matt Updike who is a really great guy and something of a stud both on and off his bike; the paralympic gold medal in London this year is a testament to that. This photo shows Matt teaching Patrick how to use his ridiculously low to the ground bike with Freddie Rodriguez giving pointers to the side. Or else Fred is just trying to hold Patrick’s hand.
Six words, folks: Krempels King of the Road Challenge. My BFF, teammate to the stars for two years, and TBI survivor himself, Timmy Duggan made the week-long trip to the east coast to kick it with vigor, eat seafood like a champ, crush wine, and speak about TBIs to the Krempels Center. Plus he saddled up and rode the KKotRC with me, Jesse Anthony, Pat McCarty, and 200+ of our best friends and family.
I spy with my little eye…
Here we are slaying the dirt, also with vigor. Actually the dirt has just abruptly ended. Which is probably safer.
Our ride also featured an off season smorgasbord of riding delicacies. Peanut Butter & Co., Simply Stroops, and of course New England’s favorite Marshmallow Fluff were only part of what powered us through the ride.
Sheesh, where are we. Still two weeks of off season to go!
The day after the ride I went with a triplet of friends plus extended family to a New England Patriots game. I’m a Pats fan with the best of ‘em, but I only go to about one game per year. Or every other year. These guys know how to rock out a good game, and it all starts with the pre-game tailgating party. This array of scallops is only a taste of what we had on the tailgate that day. And yes, those are very nice bottles of vino.
The man, the myth, the legend George Hincapie retired this year. He’s a stalwart member of the pro peloton and as an American, something of a pillar to look up to over the years. His accomplishments of 418 grand tours and however-many national championship wins is enviable. I was flattered to be a distinguished guest among friends, family, and my ilk of pro cyclists at his Gran Fondo. I give him a hard time because I tell George that I was coming to settle our on-going battle of best tennis player in the pro peloton (me) and he really clinched my arrival when I learned chef Michael Chiarello would be cooking. I’m in!
This blurry and terrible picture is of Chiarello on the far left, his right hand man from Uruguay who is awesome in the middle, chef Lucas Euser in the middle, and my good friend Tebbetts stoked to be poaching the photo on the right. Hi Matt!
George’s Gran Fondo was ridiculously hard. I’m 100% certain that the folks who designed this course did so in mid-season fitness. They didn’t realize that late October would be zilch in the fitness department. Ouch.
This photo is a pure thing of beauty. I’m, umm, smiling and saying hello, the peloton is shattered, Scotty to my right is actually smiling despite the 18% grade, and Brian is looking less than content behind Scotty. Good work team breakaway!
Meanwhile in Charleston, SC there are more good friends needing a visit. Moreover, it’s a corner of the world that I don’t know much about, so I took a 48 hour reprieve there. Actually it was slightly longer because even though we had pristine weather, Sandy was wreaking havoc on the northeastern United States so my flight was delayed a whole bunch of… hours. And thankfully just hours and not days, because not even 36 hours of being home, I unpacked, repacked, and hit the road onto Napa where I find myself today.
So from Greenville, SC it was on to Charleston. In Charleston is Husk. And in Husk is an amazing restaurant. Their 2011 Best New Restaurant in America claim was worth investigating. Everything we ordered was delicious and the pig ear tacos were a highlight for sure. Turn on your adventure and taste buds, cause Husk is awesome.
It wasn’t just gourmandism ruing the day in Charleston. I also went for a pair of runs and took in some history. This here is a photo of Fort Sumter on the central island in the distance. 42 arbitrary Ted King history points if you can tell me exactly why this place sits prominently in the history books.
And that, my friends, is a chronological smattering of my off season adventures. I assure you that this is only on fraction of the fun had, but I figure this is enough to give you a taste of what I’ve been up to of late, which explains my lack of blogging.
Bring on monk-like living and the ruckus of 2013!
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at November 5th, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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October 3, 2012
There are good ideas and there are bad ideas. The first good idea of the day is to pay rapt attention to this website. That experience is significantly enhanced while applying gentle pressure to your personal generosity button. You will feel very very good about yourself as a result.
In my humble opinion, the bad idea of the day is to run 50 miles. Off road. In the mud. At 6am. In sub-optimal weather. Over hill and dale and all throughout the Green Mountains of Ascutney, VT for the Vermont 50. Yuck, that sounds miserable.
BUT I’m not a runner. I’m a cyclist, so the idea of mountain biking those 50 miles sounded like an excellent off-season activity. After all, I had a title to defend. Better yet, I had family to see.
My crazy cousin Jay (father to a pair of those children above), his friend Amy (mother to the rest of those children above, myself not included), and about 548 of their good friends took part in the running portion of the Vermont 50. While I think that sounds horribly unpleasant, they both succeeded and had a smashing time in the process.
Backtracking a bit, my cousin’s family and their friend’s family rented a house nearby and made a sweet weekend getaway out of it. The fringe benefit of being their cousin is that I got to tag along. In an awesomely quirky mountain cabin, complete with stuffed dear heads, gazelles, puzzles, and a fire-pit, we had a great time. Plus I got to Vermont in time to see the crew above dominate the mini-run. 1 mile around Ascutney sounds like fun. Multiply that by 50 and that sounds less fun. But that’s just me.
Meanwhile, I woke up at 2:53am so that I could be fully digested and ready to roll at early hour of 6am. Waking up to rumbling thunder and fog and mist so thick that merely driving to the venue seems dangerous was an ominous start to the day. But upon arriving to the race, even before 5am, the energy and excitement of the additional 800 cyclists becomes downright palpable! Or maybe it was just the fog and the two dozen port-o-johns. Either way, people were stoked and so was I! With the ginormous help of the cannon atop my head at the pitch-black hour of 6am under, I was able to take the lead early and carry that momentum to an overall smashing race win… as well as the new course record.
Again, here I am with my adoring familial fans – Anna, Emma, Freddy, Paige, and Luke. (I’m the guy in the middle who is over 5′ tall.)
In addition to that record, I also took home a beautiful glass container of Vermont maple syrup from Top Acres Farm, a block of Vermont’s best known cheese: Cabot Private Stock Cheddar. Plus a pair of Vermont Peanut Butter’s jars of nutty excellence. (Actually that’s an exaggeration; I bought one jar the previous day at race registration – because I think VTPB does great things – but then I won another jar, so that pretty much made my day. If one is good, two are better.)
STRAVA! Plus a handful of well deserved KOMs if you ask me.
Another good idea is to take advantage of the 6am start as it pertains to the rest of your day. Namely, finish up the race a hair after 10am, soak up the limelight of having just won such a massive bike race, bask in the bike cleaning station and warm showers before they become caked in frigid mud, partake in a tasty sponsor beverage, enormous BBQ, and festive music, and STILL have time to drive 3 hours south to eastern Massachusetts and watch the nation’s coolest bike race, GP Gloucester! Take folks, take a page out of my book: you’re not living unless you’re living.
I wisely opted not to double-up and I therefore packed up shop and drove down to MA to watch Gloucester rather than race it. I don’t do well in muddy cross races and this was some of the finest mud America has to offer.
Let the off season adventures continue! Oh speaking of which, I have a really good idea for you…
Go to the Source – http://iamtedking.com
Filed by Ted King at October 3rd, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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September 15, 2012
When you view the world through rose colored glasses, everything is sugar and spice and optimism and bunny rabbits. Conveniently for my overall life-satisfaction level, I’m magically issued rose colored glasses when entering Vermont because I’m having an AWESOME time.
I could say the “USA Pro Cycling Challenge” or I could incorrectly say “Tour of Colorado” or I could simply say “Colorado”. Anyway, that race in the end of August in the Centennial State pretty much just came and went in my book. I won’t dwell on it, because I already did that for the days afterwards. But suffice it to say that a) it wasn’t my cup of tea and b) racing over a 30km ascent the first thing into a stage, plus pedaling yourself over 12,000 feet in the process is difficult as is. Next throw aggressively throwing up into the mix which interferes with the all important process of breathing at 12,000′. I was seeing stars going over Independence Pass and my day didn’t get much better in the 60km chase following that.
A highlight of that morning before gasping what seemed like my final breaths, though, was meeting young Dante here. The kid is a cycling fanatic, but perhaps you could have guessed that from his daily attire here. It’s so cool to see that level of passion at such a young age in America. I was playing with hockey cards and GI Joes at that age – definitely not yet playing “peloton.”
Me: “Just keep doing what you’re doing, Dante. Trust me kiddo, chicks dig scars.”
So post Colorado, I then enjoyed a bit of Boulder in all her Rocky Mountain splendor with hosts and best friends the Duggans, before setting off back to the right coast for eventually this week’s Quebec City and Montreal Grand Prix-es. Getting my head back in the right place really couldn’t happen in a better place than right here in Vermont. Middlebury College is where I fell in love with cycling, and quite literally Middlebury and Appalachain Gaps are where I found cycling (see, that’s where I first watched a bike race. I obviously picked a good one since that’s where my brother Robbie won the first of his three collegiate national titles).
If Normal Rockwell were alive today and somehow mysteriously into virtual reality instead of painting picturesque scenes, AND if he wanted to create a New England late summer weekend, he truly couldn’t have done it better than this four day Labor Day block. The perfect weather matched the impeccable scenery paralleled the idyllic roads in tandem with the lush green foliage that’s just beginning to show the hints of burnt orange and red. The pumpkins are coming out for fall jack-o-lantern’ing, the dirt roads were aplenty, and the stonewalls and maple syrup were as abundant as I remember. I’m fairly certain that I never once stopped grinning for the full 96 hour weekend.
I’m equally sure that part of the exorbitant good times are due to smashing out three progressively massiver rides on these roads upon which I found cycling. My nostalgia bone was tickled to the point of tears. I’ll quit waxing poetic here – just please recognize that even though this was merely meant as a training-block get-away, this was a very special weekend that just makes me say wow and thankful I’m able to do what I do.
Remember this very weekend in 2010? I was racing and looking dapper in the the Green Mountain Stage Race leader’s jersey for half the race. Soon after that, however, a whole bunch of political mumbo jumbo ensued that I don’t understand, and the UCI decided that they would prefer my WorldTour colleagues and I not race rather than support local races like this. The Green Mountain Stage Race is either the best race you’ve never heard of… or the best race you’ve ever heard of. Period.
This photo above is from the West Hill B’n’B looking out upon another flawless green mountain morning. With requisite “laundry” hanging on the front porch, our hosts Susan and Peter are obviously in the right mood for the weekend. I don’t what was greater: their incredibly benevolent hospitality or their selection of oatmeal toppings. Both were exquisite (yes, complete with maple syrup, obviously).
Right out my back door lays the steepest one mile of pavement in America, Lincoln Gap. Don’t believe me? Google it. I rode it twice, because there are two sides to ever coin and two sides to ever Lincoln Gap and they’re both frigging steep.
As I said, dirt roads were abundant. This is day one going from Middlebury towards Bristol. I don’t know why it looks like it’s 7:52pm because this is about 2 in the avo. More to the point, this particular ride featured a Chris Milliman-like 50′ish miles of dirt. “Rad” sells the ride very very short. It was awesome.
Waffles were available from Susan this morning, but I still went with the oatmeal. The left over waffles resulted in the perfect ride food. She had them wrapped like the perfect little ride treats with the blueberries secretly nestled inside. It was a very satisfying first bite when I gnoshed into this badboy.
Convenience stores are a token New England characteristic. Misspelling ICE is only part of the fun in Ripton, VT.
Roxbury Gap. Dirt. Steep. Very most excellent.
The final day I rode the legendary L-A-M-B ride. Aptly named since it criss-crosses the Green Mountains over four of the gnarliest gaps, Lincoln, Appalachian, Middlebury, and Brandon. In truth, I guess my ride was more LAB-M since that’s the order in which I rode. I want to swear with excitement and spike a football in celebration it was so good! But 6 hours later, I was pretty cooked so I had some corn on the cob instead. Yes, naturally it was freshly cooked, salted, and peppered at the local general store. Learning something from my roommate for the weekend, I also procured some ride beverage – a mini maple syrup.
Twist my arm, Tim and Peter. Yeah, I went golfing afterwards. It was pretty excellent since even if I was exhausted bordering on passing out; I hit a good dozen balls decently well, we didn’t crash nor flip nor flat the golf cart, no one was arrested, and I had my best score for the 14.5 holes we decided to play. That has never happened before when I hit the links.
Isn’t Vermont magic?
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Filed by Ted King at September 15th, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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August 26, 2012
200 Not On 100, a race in Utah, RnR in Colorado. Now you know what I’ve been up to lately. Bang, boom, done. Ciao!
…Or not. Of course not, because there’s more to it.
Utah was an up and down race, in both the figurative and literal sense. When racing in and around Salt Lake City, you soon realize that there isn’t much outside of this area for many many miles. Salt Lake City is something of an oasis. One particular stage took us to the southwestern reaches of the city in an area that one could safely assume to be the end of the earth. There is absolutely nothing for miles and miles (and then dozens and hundreds and seemingly thousands of miles more) except for one random teenage boy on the side of the road enthusiastically cheering. No driveway for miles in either direction, no bicycle nor vehicle for him to travel, just a boy. That was frightening. But he seemed content, so whatever.
(Photo poached from the internets at C’news by Jonathan Devich)
Much like a good chunk of the western United States, there are fires raging around SLC. So the dry air, in addition to the already decently high altitude, in addition to the smog and new-to-me Utahn pollens, and especially in addition to the smoke lingering thickly in the air, I was contending with a big breadth of breathing difficulties. This resulted in a many aggressive spurts of coughing, similar to what one might find in a person humming through four packs-a-day for the past three decades. Harsh dude.
Thankfully I made it to the other side, probably at an oxygen detriment, but that’s just fine since from Utah we’re off to Colorado where the altitude is thinner and clearer. One might safely assume that I’m in the clear now that I’m out of smokey and smoggy Utah and into the lush alpine air of Colorado… buuuut someone just showed me a map showing the Utahn wildfire smoke reaching well across into the Centennial State. So I will just follow my own sage advice: breathe deeper and breathe more often. Duh.
Utah wrapped up and with one Monday to burn before flying out that evening, I spent an excellent day cruising the mean streets of Salt Lake City with my best friend from college, Scooter McGavin. I got a haircut in the morning and the day also came complete with comida Mexicana at Lone Star plus a road trip and quick walk-about up to his stomping grounds of Snowbird, it was off to Colorado. Try to keep pace, folks, I know this is a lot.
Colorado is one of my favorite places on the planet. The entire state (ahem, west of Denver) is incredible with some of the world’s most stunning scenery, gracious people, incredible roads, and overall coolness. Teammate/comrade/best friend Timmy Duggan and his lovely wife were hosts for my four days there which included scoping stage four of Colorado. That looks something like this:
I did the previous chunk of that stage from Boulder up Boulder Canyon on an easy day the day before so I’m feeling charged up for stage 6.
It’s hard to put into words just how palpable the enthusiasm is for the entire USA Pro Cycling Challenge and especially how the race builds up to Boulder. With a few of my pro-biking cronies, we did a roller derby style hipster roller race to benefit Boulder Junior Cycling on Wednesday night and then a big’n of a cocktail party, signing session, dinner, and roast at the St. Julien on Thursday before jetting off to Durango where I am now.
So. Many. Kids. It is incredible to see the youth really stepping up in Boulder and riding at such a high level at such a young age. These kids are accomplishing a lot more in the sport at an age before I ever raced my bike! (Ahem, a reminder that hockey took up most of the first two decades of my life.) Yup, the rock and roll derby was for the kids for sure. Kids… so many kids, with many proud parents.
Then an excellent schoozefest 2012 to benefit the stage coming into Boulder, so yeah Boulder is a fun place.
But better yet, I got to stay in Nederland which is up in the hills beyond Boulder so that I could stay focused on the race ahead, dabble in town only when I needed to, scope the requisite course, get the pre-race media day off the to-do list, and overall stay relaxed. It was awesome.
Best yet, it’s worth pointing out that one of the finest bits of racing in America – besides the fans, the language, the simple use of my American dollar bills, not having to deal with a post office, seeing friends and family, racing in the coolest part of the world – is the street food. Hello recovery tacos.
And sriacha peas.
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Filed by Ted King at August 26th, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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August 3, 2012
Ask anyone who knows me well and they’ll tell you that I’m very keen on efficiency. My life’s to-do list is lengthy which leaves little time for dillydallying. As professional cyclists we’re told don’t stand when you can sit and don’t sit when you can lie down. That’s sage advice – meanwhile in the La La Land in which Ted King romps we live by the mantra, Don’t lie down when you can do something and don’t do something when you can do many somethings. All at once.
Therefore when the stars align and the intricate schedules of six very good friends overlap for one special Saturday in July, this not only marks a reason to celebrate, but it serves as excellent reason to go for what amounts to two massive bike rides… in one day. Naturally, a two-for-one is the picture of efficiency.
Or the 200 Not On 100, clearly. Dang, you know it’s a decently large day in the saddle when it doesn’t even fit on this map.
I won’t repeat myself, so the full song and dance (that is, the reason why this ride came about) can be found here. This ride is simply a ride. Getting out with friends, tackling a head-slappingly long route, throw some requisite dirt into the mix, precede that with a road trip followed by late night antics the night before, toss in some of New England’s most scenic and historic roads, and you’ve got yourself a soul-ride. Racing bikes for a career is truly incredible and I’m humbled and blessed to be in that company. Massive soul rides like this, however, are one of the primary reasons why I ride a bike.
The 200NotOn100 gained plenty of regional and then national recognition. The day is characterized by a whole slew of mini stories, which collectively surround this special Saturday building it into what it ultimately became. One of my favorite of these stories is that of a Kathy and her family of four who caught wind of the original 200 on 100 ride and rode it over the course of five days with her husband and two young boys. Staying apprised of our 200 on 100 ride, which became the 200 NOT on 100, this Saturday they flew their plane from Massachusetts, took aerial photos of noteworthy segments of the route, found a landing strip on the course and were out emphatically cheering with posters in hand(!), before it was wheels-up and they flew on to Portland to be part of the “unofficial welcome committee.” Another great story is Rich who found us right after the ride’s high point on the Kancamagus Highway and with a special gift bag delivery of NH maple syrup and Moat Mountain tall boys to help prevent the mid-ride crack. Again with two very young children in arms. I reckon the word is getting out!
Chomping a Fluffernutter, Ryan graciously accepts the maple&Moat gift bag. Thanks Rich.
While not a charity ride, it has enormous potential to go in that direction – as is, in addition to the t-shirts we’re selling, we passed around a hat at the wicked post-ride BBQ and collectively have generated close to $4,000, entirely for the Colorado Red Cross.
Community. That’s what the ride is all about. It’s the cycling community in Colorado to which so many of us are connected. Moreover, the sense of community last Saturday rivals anything I’ve experienced on two wheels. A dozen riders before the sun was even up in Burlington joined us rolling out of Burlington, while plenty of riders latched on for five minutes or fifty miles. The reception upon our arrival at Scratch Baking Co. was phenomenal, including my family, childhood neighbors, my best friend, his wife, and newborn son, the incredible community inherently built around Scratch, the Healthy Kids Happy Kids Me organization, folks I’ve known from my local bike shop for a dozen years, supporters, fans, and a whole bunch of others. Cycling is a community like no other.
Oh, another noteworthy addition to the day was watching Andy and Dave roll into Scratch more than three hours later. These two intrepidly set out with us at 6am from Burlington, were dropped before mile 50, but kept on truckin’ to arrive in Portland at 8pm. Incredible. And now a photo montage.
Some groggy eyes at 5:58am.
Good morning. ilovermont.
VT farm roads veiled in morning fog.
Only time we touched last year’s route all day.
Chandler tucks into the draft to ensure he can make the full 200 miles via scoot’.
Watching Tim drink maple syrup at the 1/2 way point to dig out of the bonk inspires the mega-sammy: speculoos, Fluff, and maple almond butter. White bread, naturally.
Maybe I’m gaining something of a reputation for Fluff? Nearing the top of Bear Notch.
Ryan ain’t hallucinating yet.
Support staff and the 3 riders, 200 Not On 100 complete!
Burgers, brats, beers, and plenty of this. Recovery food, my friends.
Oh right, these guys rolled in three hours later. Andy and Dave, you’re a couple of heroes!
Community. Cycling is community. Thank you. Thank you family, supporters, folks who made the signs on the side of the road, mid-ride delivery crew, our sincere “Friends” at Skratch, Scratch Baking Co., Strava, Allagash, Cutaway, and our friends from Maine to Colorado. Be safe, be well. Thank you.
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Filed by Ted King at August 3rd, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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July 25, 2012
Epic is a strong word. I believe it should be retired outright, never to be used again. But since that’s not going to happen, I say a hundred-plus mile ride, 75% of which is dirt, over the steep bergs characteristic of the Upper Valley of New Hampshire and Vermont is worthy of such a description.
To backtrack, the Tour of Poland ended amid a black-sky thunderstorm which arrived dramatically in the final kilometer of the seven-day race. It also wrapped up successfully for us as we at Liquigas-Cannondale snatched two stage wins, two second place finishes, and the overall victory. That’s called domination. From there I could be found jetting back to Lucca where my ability to clean a house top to bottom was that of legend. Mr. Clean would have been envious as I swept, vacuumed, scrubbed, dusted, and polished with great vigor. A pair of tasty and authentic goodbye dinners in my 36 hours home in Italy capped off my Italian summer before jetting to the United States where I have the Tour of Utah, the USA Pro Cycling Challenge Which Should Be Named The Tour of Colorado, followed closely by the Canadian WorldTour races, and (fingers crossed) the world championships in mid-September. Giddyup.
So now caught up to speed, returning stateside is always reason to celebrate, and especially so with awesome stuff to do straightaway. A delightful BBQ dinner with my very good friend as well as freshman college roommate plus his newly wedded wife in the Granite State segued perfectly to Saturday’s ride which you see above. The same masochistic genius who created Stoepid Week is also now into version 7.0 of the U(pper)V(alley)Epic – the aforementioned hundred mile ride, thickly laced with steep dirt roads, stunning views, and featured prevalently in this year’s event, flat tires.
Believe it or not, my bike doesn’t have a kickstand. Thankfully chivalrous manners are rife in the spandex clad world of cycling, so rather than plunking my bike down in the dirt, this kind gentleman held it for me while I changed my first of three flats. Ten intrepid souls set out on the UVEpic 7.0 early Saturday morning. Then at hour four and just 48 miles in, I warned folks that I was going to emit more watts (ergo, go faster), at which point the brave peloton was whittled down to five. Soon thereafter a flat tire sadly took out my kickstand-man. One other waited for him while three of us found the elusive Cooler-of-Hope. Now more than five hours into the ride and with hunger pangs coming at us with the same ferocity as sharp stones in the dry conditions, Chris made us very happy with water, Red Bull, sports drink, and, err, some other tasty treats.
A quick glut of calories and unfortunately being on a tight time budget – as well as places to go that evening – I dropped the entire crew and soldiered on solo for the full epoch epic Epic.
And to where was I rushing off that evening? To grill corn with my brother, obviously! Well that and chicken and relax by the lake. I promise you, it’s a tough life.
Mid-season breaks are critical in maintaining peak freshness over the course of a 10-month race season. The way my race schedule was unfolding, I couldn’t find a time to relax after California, nor after nationals the following week, nor Tour of Suisse. So finally after Poland, I had this window of respite and sitting lakeside is a mighty fine way of RnR’ing. (“Bwaa’?! How do you go on a UVEpic and call that rest?” Well friends, sometimes there’s more ways than one to sooth the soul. Letting boys be boys, beating each other up on bikes, riding gnarly dirt roads is certainly one of those ways.)
It’s said that bath salts are a good way to heal the body. I believe that being in Maine is equally therapeutic. There’s something cathartic about the salty sea air that makes me feel like a better person on the other side. But mid-season breaks are always short lived, so I decided to tackle in three days what I would ideally prefer to spread out over three months. In the days of yore, or at least when I was between the ages of zero to twenty, I would come to this magical island in Maine with my family the very day school ended in the summer and would stay there until the dreaded day before school started up again in September. I’m the sixth generation of my family to come to this island and my best friends are here, our neighbors are like family, and my happiest memories on earth are here. The Maine license plate reads Vacationland and the welcome sign driving into this serene state accurately states The Way Life Should Be. As a very wise man once said, “Maine is like heaven. Just with the distinct aroma of fried seafood.”
So my three-months-in-three-days vacation featured swimming daily in the frigid Atlantic, rock hopping, cocktail parties, lobster cruises (seen above), seeing friends and family, tennis, boating (where it has been blowing like stink the entire time – one of the nautical world’s finest expressions, hence the title of this blog), napping, reading, and soaking in the thick sea air. Rest and repeat.
And let’s be honest: beyond Maine, where else can you buy fresh lobsters at the Walgreen’s pharmacy?!
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Filed by Ted King at July 25th, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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July 14, 2012
And to make it official, here we go:
www.200on100.com
Or using the twitter mechanism, be part of and follow the action with #200NOTon100
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Filed by Ted King at July 14th, 2012 under Featured, Road Blog, Ted King
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