Demian Seale

Ever woken to a total gas-out from overcooking a muffin in your toaster oven? My guess is no. Most people wouldn’t sleep through such an event. Well I did. I feel asleep during Dirty Harry’s quest to silence (translate: kill or slay most humiliatingly) the avenging angel in Magnum Force, lustily awaiting the piping hot, lightly toasted Espresso Chocolate Chip Muffin I had purchased earlier in the day. I can’t recall right now when I did fall asleep, but, I did.

Awakening to an ashy post-raid London Blitz effect, I sprang into action. I scooped the two husks of the previously sliced muffin out of the toaster, opened the front door and window, and got my fan going full-blast. The smoke cleared relatively quickly but the odour remains. Most mephitic, let me tell you. I lurched off in my presently fucked Micra (it’s threatening to stall, sort of doing this lurching thing at stop lights, blah) to get another muffin, as that is always the evening’s highlight and when I got back really the apartment was quite livable, minus the purulent smell.

Oh well, live and learn as they say. I even managed to screw up the day’s workout, which is a shame/sham as I lurched through three sub-supers when I really only need do some tempo work. Oh..my…god/bod. Sub-supers really are a twisted invention. It looks quite harmless on paper but in practice, it is devilishly difficult. What is with all these allusions to Tartarus? I should look into that.

I also buggered up my racing plans for this weekend. I thought the Cowichan TT was on Saturday, and the Dove Creek on Sunday; it turns out they are both on Sunday. Not great planning by the organizers, nevertheless, the error is mine. I’ll play it by ear as to which I will do. I’m sure the 50k is the smarter of the two for me to attempt. Not only is it closer, it is longer, and I’m pretty positive the course will be more interesting. Dove Creek is a tough enough course, but it ends up being almost 3 laps, with a highway leg. Yeah, as proved at Sidney, you can go really fast on a highway shoulder, but I don’t really like doing it — too dangerous.

This previous weekend I did a very long, easy ride on Saturday (clocking a total of 6hr 15min) and then on Sunday I did the Mt. Washington climb. I’d done one other long climb, to Silver Star last year; that was an entertaining climb, but really not that difficult. Of course, every climb or TT is hard as one tends to push to threshold. But Washington is a whole other ball game, being, as they claim, a ‘Hors Categorie’ climb — beyond categorization.

I love that “Beyond” bit. It feels so Star Trek. Only I was missing my dilithium crystals…and there was, sadly, no post event rub down with Uhuru. Was that her name? The unbelievably foxy black woman from the original series. I remember being a teenager and totally fascinated by her legs. They were like … God’s own barge poles (I stole that from Kids in the Hall, so if you don’t find it funny, send them a letter, k? Thanks.).

Anyway, Mt. Washington. They say it averages 8-9% in grade, but this is very deceptive; Silver Star is relatively steady in comparison to Washington, which has some nearly flat stretches, and even some downhill! So that 8% average is blighted by some gnarly 15% sections.

It was the beginning of the race that buggered me up. No, let’s back up. It was my childhood…lol, Freud you are so awesome. Anyway, typically lacking confidence, I opted to start at the back. The very back. Uh, not smart. Somebody hit the gong. Show’s over. I let the cadavers sail off at the start as I deked my way forward through “popping” riders. The rest of the race was me picking off guys that had slid off the back of the leader’s pack. I ended up 5th, which was gratifying, especially considering my ridiculous weight these days, 180lbs. The 4 guys that finished ahead of me couldn’t weigh much more than 130lbs each.

The win went to Marcel Aarden, and quite deservingly. He is monster fit right now and couldn’t weigh much more than 130. He announced to me after the race that he is pursuing marathons in the future. I thought that a bit odd but congratulated him nonetheless and wished him well in his future athletic endeavour. I know why. Cycling really does burn you out. Sometimes I think it might be more fun to mostly train and race only twice a year. With cycling it’s basically “go” in April and you don’t stop until September. Some guys carry on in the fall with cross. Wow, I find that really impressive (and crazy at the same time).

I think taking most of this year off has actually been a blessing. My bike lust has revived. I’m really enjoying just participating right now, and if I had really done poorly at Washington I think I still would have had a good time. The race was very well organized and I felt bad for the marshals and people who put the race together, because they didn’t get nearly as many starters as they had hoped for. I think it might have been due partially to poor weather down-Island. I drove through the rain and kept praying for it to clear up; and, for once, my unctuous prostrations paid off: by about Parksville it was quite sunny. On Washington I got par-broiled. I was very glad to be the one guy that had only water in his cage, because I could keep pouring it over my head. The rest of the guys seemed to have drink mixes only. I would have fried if I had done that.

Anyway, recovery ride today, Thursday off, Friday easy, Saturday tune up, and Sunday race. I might try the Nanaimo TT tomorrow, but the weather is really promising to be very bad which would definitely sour me on a long drive and race.

I’ve been trying to stack in a lot of L2 junk miles on top of my intervals lately, which has largely worked, because I’ve lain idle now for about 3 or 4 months while others have been racing like mad. I felt the wheels come off a bit yesterday — easily the nicest of the year here in Victoria — as fatigue started to creep up from my legs into my whole body. I elected later in the day to ride out to Thetis lake and dunk my legs for 4 or 5 minutes. The resulting flushing of toxins and reduction of inflammation were felicitous.

The entire “Thetis Lake Scene,” even at 6:30 or so, was not. I though I would evade the crush of champs and their g/f’s; however, I was mistaken; add in the solid wall of lower middle-class beach zealots, and the affair was somewhat of a debacle. I had hoped for some sort of buddhistic retreat which would calm the whole body — not just the legs — and provide an overall restorative.

Words really can’t do justice to the pandemonium and overall negative vibe which received me. Thetis doesn’t provide a great deal of sand or seating opportunity: the middle class are cramped in against the champs — and the dividing line between the two hard to distinguish, except for the bawling and squealing of the camps of the more ‘mature’ champs, graduated into the familial responsibilities of dragging their squawking children to the lake every weekend. Some mums and dads had found a blissful solution: drifting off on an inflatable, beyond the cacophany of low brows. Oh well, next time. I found the cold water on my legs refreshing, but the overall chaos and negative vibe mitigated against any sense of total-body and soul relaxation.

It’s … you can see I’m having trouble qualifying the atmosphere. I rather think pictures and sounds would convey better the nightmare experience. Hieronymous Bosch perhaps, or Giger? A collaboration? I had forgot my ipod and my sandals, two other necessities. I stayed only long enough to ice my legs; upon leaving vitriol and mockery was heaped upon me by the Budweiser crowd, now passing about a football. “Under 3 minutes” I heard as one group of the beer and biceps crowd appraised my “getup”.

I must get more rational order to the tail end of this race season. Now is not the time to focus on stripping weight, but on increasing wattage slightly, and laying off on the volume, racing as much as possible — but most of all, looking forward to next season when I can implement an intelligent plan.

Work continues to grate. I am eager to go back, but would like to receive some verification that my job could be combined with one of the many other openings, so that I get the bump to full-time. If not, I will take another academic leave, and finish the MA. Lots ofthings have occurred to me as possibilities once that is complete: the MA in coaching (a summer programme) through UVic; joining the military or RCMP; or, following through on the PhD. I’m a bit lost but the key, I find, is to retain some hope, even if you have no focus. The bike is the centre of my focus right now. Not an intelligent choice for long-term felicity. For now I’ll stop worrying and just enjoy it.

By the by, the new Laaz Rockit came out yesterday and it absolutely smokes. Incredible album. I’ve started to replenish my cd collection. Having been a long-time downloader, I am eager to repay these bands that (essentially) I have stolen from. I bought Master and the new Hail of Bullets (I think, album of the year). My plan is to occasionally go into Lyle’s and purchase one chestnut and one new album. I won’t stop d/l but I will use it as a tool to discover who is hot and who has underachieved. Many people are raging about the new Evergrey, and while I find it glimmering with a pearly sheen of polish and studio refinement, I don’t find the actual substance all that compelling. I’d hoped this talented band would progress more in-line with Symphony X, adopting a more riff-based structure — grittier, tougher, heavier. Instead all the dripping, unctuous vocal melodies are prioritised over the slick riffs underneath (often cut short for the big ‘choral’ moment). What can I say, an inveterate guitar player…

I am doing the Mt. Washington hill climb today. Probably not a good idea, given my load of late, but, as my good friend HT has said (and I find I agree), often a long ride, accompanied by something very short and very brutal the next day really spikes fitness. we shall see. Apparently the first 3km of Washington are at a 12% grade! Gack!

If not humiliated, a race report will follow tonight.

I’d love to call someone a blackguard. You blackguard! You chimp! You weasel! … BLACKGUARD!… You hear me? And then start weeping and maybe fall on my knees. I felt like that last night. Let me explain…

I’d made the special effort to get up to Nanaimo for their annual 40km TT. Oh it was to be a wonderful affair. My first race of the season, warm, warm night and very still — perfect conditions.

As I pulled to the start line and the (wonderfully nice, not at all a blackguard…sadly) marshal gave me my count-down “30 seconds!” I politely interpolated “is the 40 km turn around marked?” He answered, his mind — I think — more on his watch than on my question (and understandably, this is one of the first things I should have established) “oh yes, the 40km turn point is marked by a large orange cone and an orange spraypainted circle.”

Hearing him say this I switched my cervo to read power, speed and time, rather than power, speed and distance. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, now that I think on it. Anyway, Gillmore, although signing up before me, had managed somehow to get right behind me — someone explain to me how this happens unless one asks for the arrangement. At any rate, I was quite motivated to not let him pass me until near the end, as I would be his minute-man; and I didn’t want Don to put much more than a minute into me — this would indicate I was going well for my first race, I felt.

So I pass the 20km turn around point; and it, indeed, is marked very clearly with an orange cone and large orange crescent of spraypaint. I think “whew, won’t have to watch my cervo, the 40km will be just as easy to spot.” I get about another 7km down the road — perhaps 8km — and it hits gravel. I cursed, then laughed as I turned my bike around. Why does sh** like this always happen to me? It could be that I’m stupid… Of course, on this road, 40km is made of two loops of the 20km circuit. Live and learn.

At any rate I ended up doing about 34km in 49-something, certainly not very good numbers. However, the course was extremely difficult. I would say it is just as hard as Race the Ridge, perhaps harder. Up, down, up, down. I decided on a pacing strategy that would see me hammer up the hills and then take it somewhat easier downhill.

It was interesting to have the powermeter for pacing. It’s easy to see, even in a time trial, that my weakness is acceleration and leg speed. While it was very easy for me to hold FTP or even push well beyond it on the hills, going down the other side it was very difficult for me even in the “12″ to spin it out. Near the end of the race I noticed I was sloughing off on the downhills (sometimes as low as 260 watts!) so I made sure to really lock in on the 12 and hammer. It made a huge difference.

All in all, I am really happy with the result. I wish I’d figured the course out; however, I am really happy with my time; and moreso, with my bike position. It really fit like a glove. I was stretched out nicely, and the back of my helmet was digging into my back, tucked down well; my back was virtually flat, and in this cramped position I was still able to hammer it pretty good. I don’t think the position can be improved unless I really wanted to go for a serious ‘Flandis’ which, finally, I’ve decided against.

I’m not ‘afraid’ of being the one guy out there in that position. In other words, I’m not afraid of being ‘the maverick’ time trialist with the weird position; rather, I’m afraid, at least in Canada, there’s a serious reason *why* such a position is rare: because the UCI has banned it. I don’t really relish practicing all year in one position only to race another in the “important” time trials, the sanctioned events where I can score points for upgrade.

I’m really glad I’ve decided to do this now, rather than later; because, as my mechanic lowered the bars, of course, he extended the length the cable must travel from the shifters to the derailleurs: I needed entirely new cables installed. What if it had been provincials? I’d have had to pack it in right there.

Biceps…(blasted): check
Glutes…(pumped): check
Quads…(shaved): check
Medallion…(shined): check
Tracksuit…(drycleaned): check

…Now leave the rest for KD: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmJixqlOzZ4

Oh whoops! I just had a King Diamondgasm!

La Rocque you are God, you are like looking into the shimmering, coruscating, tenebrous eye of God, that watery well infinitum majestus.

Okay now that I got that off my chest! Whew. Today bodes quite well. A lot on the table, but enough energy I hope. Yesterday I almost bought a Scorpion. But actually it was quite dull. Apparently all it does is hide. It was pretty cool when the dude at the pet shop removed its little hideaway. The thing is sort of shiny-black: an emperor Scorpion. You feed it crickets. Apparently it is so dumb though that you sort of have to place the cricket into its maw before it will strike. And then he said its venom is so weak not to worry about being lashed. Come on man! I want something lethal! I want to co-habitate with lethality! I want to snuggle up to D-E-A-T-H. Living with women is nothing, man, it might seem like constriction — but give me the real thing, like a python or something. Man getting a lethal pet is really hard to do. I have some complaints.
Anyway, finally, I got some guy from Langford on the phone. He kept peppering the conversation with the “f” word in its various permutations. But he appeared to have pythons and actually he was quite intimate with the science of constriction. He was adamant that we not meet at his place though. LOL! He gave me some b.s. excuse as to why — I can’t remember now. Anyway, he is a “full time breeder” and he was explaining how he has racks of these snakes in large tupperware bins “just ready to go”. Ah I guess in the end reason grabbed me (like Socrates would snatch up and shake a misbehaving boy) and gave me a good flasking. So it’s just me and the yoghurt — the only beings alive in my world. I have the occasional spider around too…
Yesterday was a day off from training but I went to the gym and did some weights. I think I’ll cancel that membership soon. I’m not sure why I keep holding on to it. Probably because Phoenix is so much closer to my place than the UVic gym. I could really feel my legs yesterday; they were very heavy. The hill repeats and then the tempo work had an effect, for sure. Today I have some very short tempo intervals to do, and then Saturday I’m doing Burnside, and Sunday the Fitness Test. I should be feeling pretty crippled by Monday.

Well yesterday’s workout was rather tough, actually. There’s something about Starbuck’s coffee, far more than others’, which zaps me; so I took down an iced Venti before my hill repeats. Let’s just say it had a galvanizing effect. Something like that. Something electrical and monolithic. Zap!

The workout asked for 4×4min Hill Repeats at threshold, and then 2×12min Tempo on the way home. One can accomplish this up at UVic quite easily. I can do a 4min hill repeat on a “Long Tolmie,” which is where I start on Cedar Hill X Rd at Shelbourne, ascend through that weird intersection at Richmond, staying to the left, hammer over the top and through the flat bit before going up again toward Mt. Tolmie park, turn right into the park, and go up that terraced climb to the top. It’s actually not even four minutes when one is going a bloc, as the French say — but it is close enough to satisfy my coach’s demands (which were to keep the entire workout under two hours, and to take the climb seated. If I were permitted to stand, I would have used Mt. Doug perhaps, just past the fire hydrant).

So far so good, I get my first done, only starting at Richmond, and am well short of 4 minutes, so as I’m scooting back down the hill, I hit the stop sign, come to a quick stop, and am just about to cross Cedar Hill when this twit, turning left, almost clips me as I’m standing still at the stop sign. I don’t know, I can’t suffer fools very well lately, least of all those that almost kill or maim me, so I shot off after him up the hill, thinking that I would easily catch up to him because he’d stop at the top for the view. Well, he didn’t, he took a right turn 1/2 way up the hill and down a road that led to some residences. To make a long story short, he stopped, I pulled alongside and there began a long stare-down, as between a mongoose and viper. He was an older man, perhaps in his late 50’s, but big, in a tank top, with a gym bag next to him.

“Yes?” he said in a German accent. I just continued to stare at him, “Killchain” by Bolt Thrower roaring on my iPod. “I guess I cut zat corner a little close.” I said “yup” and turned around and left. He yelled a couple of things I couldn’t hear but I felt well, he’s like one of those dogs that yap when you’re well away, but turn tail when actually confronted. It put some strength into the rest of my repeats. I really felt strong yesterday, despite a bad sleep; I’d hit that ‘wall’ at the end of Tolmie up to the parking lot, get out of the saddle, and hammer it; it felt as if I could tear the cleats right out of the pedals. It’s nice because I haven’t felt that way in some time.

I especially enjoyed the tempo work that came right after. You can do flats in Victoria, but you have to pick your courses carefully. I find the only one that works for me is close to the university. I go along Cedar Hill X from Henderson to Cadboro Bay, take a right (usually blowing that stop sign which used to be a yield sign) onto Cadboro Bay, then hammer past the golf course all the way to Lansdowne, take another right, keep my momentum until Henderson, right, then straight back to Cedar Hill X for another right — a nice 4-cornered course that is almost flat. I love the little 2% grades you hit on it actually; you can upshift (downshift? I never know the correct term, put it into a smaller rear sprocket for harder pedalling), get out of the saddle, and roar up them.

My coach has yet to comment on the data I provided. I’m very curious to hear what he says. I had a nice session with Lynn mid-afternoon and then went to the pet store. I thought it might be nice to have something to co-habitate with. Perhaps not a cat, since my place is too small; but, for some reason, I was thinking of a snake. I wondered if it would eat live prey! I found the snakes that were being sold were called ‘corn snakes’ and they are quite beautiful, taking a wide array of colours. The ones the store were prohibitively expensive, so I went home and found some affordable ones on usedvictoria.com The lady is selling them off next week so I will perhaps buy one then. I have decided to name it ‘Death Force of a Thousand Hydras” or “D-Foth” for short.

I also bought a small stash of “healthy” food yesterday and succeeded in not eating any rubbish from the bulk sections, which was a bit of a victory. All went well until an old friend and I had a bit of a falling out over the phone. It was a long time coming, as he had been practicing this sort of contrarian habit with me — a kind of ‘tough love’ that just got really annoying eventually. So instead of get mad I accused him of pedantry and then started laughing. It was somewhat mean of me and I think he got mad. I only think so because he didn’t say as much; he just hung up. There will be absolution via the internet, I’m sure; he has been a friend since 1984 or 85. Little fracas don’t tend to last long when you’ve had that kind of longevity.

It’s a shame as I had just resolved to pursue school with full vigour rather than anything else. Yesterday the details of my fellowship came in the mail, provided I can finish all my requirements by January. Having failed the language test already, I would have to challenge it again in November rather than take French 300 or German 390, since both of them end in April. Hmm, lots of pressure beginning in September. Not looking forward to it, but am looking forward to crashing (or even gracefully vaulting) that final hurdle so I can wave that M.A. around delightedly.

Well the family was the theme this past weekend. My mum and stepdad visited from the interior for a couple of days. That was very nice. We saw each other for coffee and dinner; the first evening was ate at the luscious Luciano’s, and the next, the ever-reliable Pagliacci’s. Luciano’s was far better, actually; although, I confess no one ate anything greasy at Pags, which is/are their specialty. The bread was awesome,as per usual. I left them at their own devices during the day, as that is sort of what my mum, prior to arrival, had hinted she’d prefer. I was able to make some good suggestions so I think they were very happy and relaxed by the whole experience. I question their choice to stay in the infamous, and infamously creepy Surf Motel; but other than that, I had a lovely time visiting them.

In the meantime, my dad returned from his honeymoon in Vegas. Poor dad, he is ever so much like me: overabundance, overstimulation and large crowds all make him tense. Susan must have had a good time though — it is just very nice to see him married and so happy. I confided all my woes to him, all the weird caprices the universe has played against me this summer so far. You do create your own reality, but when possessions start breaking randomly, you wonder: is God beaming me some signal, some cipher for which I lack the encryption. I keep interpreting it as “YOU SUCK!” I’m told that’s not healthy.

In truth, I’ve had a rather abysmal time on all fronts, family and friends, school, athletics, and work. Especially, I suppose, in school and on the bike. I will soldier on. The 450 dollar hit on my alternator busting was quite the last straw, I must say. After that the only anodyne was Will Ferrell’s delicious new absurdity, Step Brothers. Thank the sweet lord and even sweeter little baby Jesus for Will Ferrell and Adam McKay.

I will have more coherent postings to come, and more details on my training. So far it seems to be comprised of fairly intense, short intervals followed by days and days of recovery and rest. It is not really what I had expected or wanted in a training regime. And the more I ride, the greater the feeling that perhaps I can — with a little work — carve out my own training regime which would take advantage of the power tap, but would also pay attention to both my physical sensations, and my happiness. Riding 5 to 6 hours a week and pretending I’m a serious athlete seems absurd to me. I expect I’ll just have to take it up with my coach and see what his rationale is.