The training log of an Epic Champion.

My initial subpar performances on the Central Texas Cycling Circuit left me heart broken and downtroden.  Unsure of my ability to rally for the remainder of the Texas Classics and swathed in rumors that Team Wooly Mammoth Director Sportif, Patricio Newellta, planned to shanghai my dream of two wheeled dominance by relegating me from the Elite European Racing Squad to the pedestrian Club Team, I hit the training roads hard.  Mustering the strength and fortitude of my German forefathers, I summoned all Wooly Mammas to my side for inspirado.  We rode until our glutes burned, our quads quivered and skinny jeans burst with the swelling of our calves.  Early training rides were marred with mechanicals and frigid conditions.  Short on tubes, CO2 cartridges and with our fingers tingling at the early onset of frostbite, it was evident a stormy and ill tempered cloud had settled over all who bore the Arctic Rainbow.

Discouraged and feeling the spirit of the Eagle waning, I was at a loss. It seemed nothing was going right and despite the miles I was pounding into my quads the gains just weren't coming.  Out of pure desperation, a small contingency of our squad agreed to a training ride and healing session with Jemadari Roozani, world renowned motivational speaker, life coach and Zulu Isangoma.  After hearing our complaints and calling on our ancestral spirits, the root of the Wooly Mammoth Curse was revealed. We were prescribed prolonged and strict therapeutic regimes that were aided in efficacy by the potent herbs he had gathered in his native Zululand. Traditionally protective of his real identity and fearful our camera may steal his soul, Jemadari refused any photos.  Luckily I was able to sneak this photo of him and team mate Micki McNair with my IPhone while he was in the final stages of our diagnosis.

The herbs and insights moved me into a new mental and physical space.  I had recaptured the patience, confidence and pure derailleur shredding power of my youth and felt prepared to start training for the toughest stage race in Texas, my namesake, Ft. Davis Hammerfest.  Climbing the biggest mountain in Texas is no joke and I was willing to do anything to get it done.