Love. Falling.

LOVE: A profoundly tender, passionate affection, strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything.
FALLING: To subside or abate, to succumb to temptation, to pass into some physical, mental, or emotional condition, to have its proper place.

When you fall in love...and I mean really fall in love...it's permanent.  It's forever.  It's for life.  It becomes a part of you.

I've never been in love.  Not with a person.  But I have fallen in love and there's no denying it.

I can sit Pisa in the corner and not mount her for weeks.  I can avert my glance when she calls out to me seductively.  I can avoid my teammates text messages and pleads to join in.  I can pretend I don't keep track of everyone's race results on Facebook.  I can go to sleep at night believing riding is not for me.

But when dawn comes and my eyes blink open, it's the same everytime.  The same spell. The same seduction.  The same romance. The same falling in love.  The only love I've ever known.

Something unplanned happens as the morning light slips through the mini blinds. 

"Yeah, I have my bike.  A quick ride on Shoal Creek?  Yeah, I can do that."

And BAM.  The universe shifts.  My life seems profound.  My energy is vibrating at a higher frequency.  Everything has meaning.  The breeze in the trees.  The leaves on the road.  The dude walking his dog. 

My life has changed and it's only been two hours. 

Yeah. 

That's fucking falling in love.

And I hope I do it everyday for the rest of my life.

I SAID, I DON'T RIDE A BIKE ANYMORE ...

what are you deaf?  Geez.  Yeah, that's right.  I don't ride a bike anymore.  Well...I mean, my race bike.  Well...I don't ride it very far.  I mean...technically...I ride A bike everyday.  But ONLY to and from work.  And to the grocery store. And to the library.  And to the trail. And to the movies. And to the bank.  And to the bar.  And to the tattoo shop.  And to my friend's house. And, well...pretty much everywhere.But seriously. 

I.AM.NOT.A.BIKE.RIDER.ANYMORE.

I know, I know.  Whatever.  I don't want to hear it cause I've said it all to other people before me.

I've got bigger things on my mind.  I'm a yogi now.  I'm a world traveler now.  I'm a lover now.  I'm a pedicabber now (no...this does not count as riding your bike). 

And don't worry.

I'm 100% positive this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I am leaving to travel around the world in 3 short months and won't be able to ride my bike for years.  I mean that doesn't even phase me.  Seriously...pfft (insert dismissive eye roll here)...whatever.

There is no way I would be so silly as to subconsciously stop riding my bike in preparation, knowing it's going to be insanely painful to give it up. 

I mean my subconscious isn't even really all that smart.  If it was, it would be much more...CONSCIOUS!

So yeah...I'm totally NOT into bikes.  They're boring and so is riding them.  With all your best friends.  Laughing and talking.  Loving.  Sweating.  Boooooooooring. Seriously. Stupid.

I don't even miss it.  Not at all.

Team Wooly Mammoth Official Code of Conduct

It is clear that membership on the most elite, handsome and stylish European pro cycling team in history comes with many perks.  Endless opportunities to be photographed looking ultra provocative and romantic, being waited on hand and foot by members of TWM International Fan Club, salary bonuses for sharp tan lines and a monthly stipend for essentials, like body bronzer and olive oil to keep the quads adequately moisturized, to name a few. 

But it is more than just fun and games on this squad of cycling legend.  This is serious business.  Our sponsors have stated that just securing a spot on our kit can allow them to completely discontinue all other marketing avenues.  We have pressure to deliver the goods and that takes discipline, commitment and a fanatically followed Team Wooly Mammoth Code of Conduct.

Adapted from the Code of Conduct of the Euro Cyclist by Dom Guiver and Mike Flavell.

1. Image, style, handsomeness and tan lines shall be the primary concerns of the Team Wooly Mammoth Cyclist (heretofore referred to as TWMC). When suffering*, one must focus on maintaining a cool, even composure first and performance second.  Losing is acceptable as long as TWM style remains on point.  Winning races only counts if said TWMC wins with appropriate style, beach bod and mandatory volleyball spike upon out sprinting other less handsome competitors.

*I use the word suffering loosely, as everyone knows a TWMC is never really suffering.  Our superior genetics don't allow it.  The appearance of suffering may be utilized as a ploy to later attack the field, to feign an air of vulnerability with intentions to attract a potential mate or simply because constantly mounting the podium week after week has gotten too boring.

2. Training shall be based solely on feel, while racing shall be lead by sensations, your Eagle spirit guide and your finely tuned Mammoth instinct.  TWMC will never accept or utilize tried or tested scientific training methods.  Any TWMC found in possession of a cadence monitor, heart rate monitor or power meter will be immediately banished from the team website,  removed from the invite list of all inter squad quad massage parties and banned from international competition (in cycling, beach volleyball, body building or StrongMan competitions) for a maximum of 5 years and no less than 18 months.

3. A TWMC shall NEVER, under any circumstances, wear colors other than the glorious and internationally recognized shades of The Arctic Rainbow.  Acceptable colors include and ARE limited to Process Magenta 214C, Olympic Blue 7461C, Russet Brown 175C, Bright Green 348C and Flawless White 543C.  This includes all podium photos, races, training rides, excursions to the tanning salon and day to day life. 

4. Legs shall be SHAVED year-round. ABSOLUTELY NO EXCEPTIONS. 

5. Sharp tan lines reflect the level of training commitment. A prominent line where the TWM kit ends and one’s deep mahogany, olive oiled tan begins is essential to maintaining the TWM image. Artificial tanning is BANNED (except when absolutely necessary - like winter training in the Nordic Tundra or when utilizing night training to harden our hearts with sleep deprivation techniques).

6. All socks, gloves, arm or leg warmers worn must be TEAM ISSUE.

7. Ridiculously stylish eyewear is to be worn AT ALL TIMES without exception.  Especially at traditionally inopportune times, like after sunset, at fancy post victory dinners while sipping fine Italian wine and when sneaking out of a lover's apartment to avoid potential detection by the Tifosi.

8. Male members of TWM are required to maintain suitable facial hair at all times.  Acceptable facial hair configuration include but are not limited too The Pencil, The FuManChu, The Handlebar, The Imperial, The Lampshade and The Walrus.  There are two acceptable hair cuts for both the Men's and Women's squad. The Euro Mullet (a la Tom Boonen) and The Cippolini.  The Cippolini shall be neatly slicked back in a severely euro style, and a helmet SHALL NOT be worn.

9. Saddles and Bar Tape shall be white in color ONLY and shall be manufactured in Italy or France.
Bar tape is required to be cork as well as WHITE IN COLOR. Bar tape shall be kept in pristine white condition. This state shall be achieved by assigning the job of daily bar tape replacement to either a member of the TWM under 23 squad or one of the many TWM soigners. 

10. The TWMC shall ALWAYS have liniment, olive oil or (if desperate or in the tropics) coconut oil applied to his/her legs (and preferably to all exposed skin - minus the face which will have been applied with organic makeup by the team stylist and make up artist for impromptu photo shoots) before appearing in public.

11. Pinarello shall be THE ONLY acceptable frame.  Campagnolo shall be THE ONLY acceptable component.

12. A TWMC shall NEVER, under any circumstances, acknowledge the presence of a cyclist riding a bike costing less than 2000€ in ANY public place. If such a situation cannot be helped, it is CRITICAL that the TWMC regard his “acquaintance” with a patrician mixture of disdain and SEVERE condescension.  Ideal reaction to being approached by such a cyclist is to rapidly press air through the lips while making a Pfft noise, rolling the eyes and immediately turning the other direction.  If said cyclist does not "get the hint" the TWMC must claim to not speak any English and ride off waving your fist in frustration.

13. Any physical activity other than cycling is STRONGLY FROWNED UPON. This includes any form of running (could cause a drastic decrease in quad circumference), swimming (endangers finely crafted tan lines) and their derivatives (this includes walking). The ONLY TWO* other sports acceptable: Beach Volleyball and Body Building.

*In extremely rare circumstances participation in other sports will be mildly tolerated.  Triathlon can be deemed acceptable if and ONLY IF said TWMC has qualified for the World Championships and a team issue kit is worn in all phases of the event (including swimming, kit can be worn under or in lieu of a wetsuit).

14. In a circumstance where any cyclist ever displays aggression or disrespect towards a TWMC, he/she is required to ride up uncomfortably close to his foe and slap them in the face with his team issue gloves.

15. Espresso is a NECESSITY and as such it must be consumed normale or ristretto on a patio (preferably in Italy) in full kit (helmet is optional, but team issue sunglasses and cycling cap are required).  SWEETENERS AND MILK ARE BANNED.

16. All pre- and post-race activity SHALL be conducted under a gazebo (this includes massages, interviews, seductions, and looking fantastic) leaving one in reasonable distance of the Euro-sun to top up one’s enviable tanlines and pose for photos.

17. Post-race, one shall be tied to one's mobile phone, receiving endless calls from:

i. Said TWMC model and international superstar boyfriend or girlfriend, or

ii. Important ad executives concerning modeling contracts. This shall be done under the protection of the post race gazebo.

iii. The French anti-doping agency, explaining again why the "A" sample was clearly flawed and they should move on to the "B" sample.

iv. Team Doctor

18. Team bikes will be built up to purposely violate the UCI weight limit.  When brought to the attention of TWM Director Sportif, all TWMC are to act shocked and play it off as an innocent mistake while attaching prepacked weights to the frame to demonstrate its superiority and lightness.

19. Motivational music during training shall consist of late 90s trance or progressive house, hereby known as 'euro beats, metal or hard core punk.' NO EXCEPTIONS.

20. A gold pendant on a very long, thin chain bearing some form of religious icon is STRONGLY recommended for mountain stages and post race clubbing.

21. While soloing in for a victory, TWMC shall ensure that the TWM jersey is not fully zipped until the moment before crossing the finish line.  Prior to this TWMC shall maintain the full unzip so the TWM jersey flaps seductively in the breeze for at least 75% of the race. 

22. When appearing in a photo spread for a sponsor’s products, TWMC has the option of appearing fully nude and oiled or in a team issue TWM kit.  Smiling is PROHIBITED in all instances.

23. The TWMC shall own a sizable Eagle or other bird of prey and will ensure that she/he is seen walking around photo shoots with it perched either upon his casually outstretched arm or upon his shoulder.  The Eagle should either be white or it should contain three (3) or more colors found within The Arctic Rainbow.  In all interviews TWMC is to refer to his/her pet Eagle, that it is representative of his/her Native American Spirit Guide and team healer/shaman Mark WhiteEagle.

Der Hammer, Hammerfest. Hammerfest, Der Hammer.

Kee-yah my brothers and sisters of the Nordic Tundra and beyond. I realize this race report is late in coming, however writers block and intermittent episodes of technophobia have delayed my ability to post. Luckily none of my maladies were permanent and I am back at the keyboard ready to rock out an update of an event so epic it is sure to claim a place of prominence amongst the important moments of cycling history.  Somewhere between the advent of the Draisienne in 1817 by Germany's Baron von Drais and the conception and propagation of Lycra, sits the three days of the 2010 Ft. Davis Hammer Fest.


With intentions of piercing self transformation, the band of brothers known as Team Wooly Mammoth embarked on a weekend of racing, smudging and loving.  The drive out to West Texas is a long one and with our most junior team member, Jaime Dayo (the only man MAN enough to brave the drive with the women's team) adequately beleaguered and forced to bury his head sheepishly in his hands on multiple occasions, the ladies felt ready to conquer all that faced them.

First on the docket, a Native American blessing of quads and steeds.  The history of friendly relations between Wooly Mammoth and all Native American tribes is well know the world over.  It has come to benefit us many times.  The story of Juan Benedicto Rainbowpath Wheelarosa narrowly escaping a swift scalping after "accidentally" stumbling onto sacred Cherokee ground in search of magical mushrooms for his latest energy bar is ritualistically retold at all TWM gatherings.  Obviously once Raibowpath mentioned Team Wooly Mammoth Shaman and Healer, Mark WhiteEagle, all was forgiven and peyote mushrooms were showered on him like rose petals at a wedding. 

Now in the barren dessert of West Texas we were to benefit from these friendly bonds once again.  Ft. Davis is home to Mark WhiteEagle and lucky for us he was willing to make a rare in person appearance at our undercover headquarters.  Friday night was full of magic, dragons, lions, angel spirits, ceremonial rituals, energy cleansing and healing the likes of which could only be rivaled by Dr. Drew on VH1s Celebrity Rehab.

With auras cleansed and sins forgiven, our quads and hearts had never been more prepared for battle.  And a battle ROYALE is exactly what was staring us straight in the face:

Stage One: The Mountain Climb - The biggest mountain in Texas, Lance has claimed on multiple occasions it rivals Alpe D'Huez in difficulty

Stage Two: The Time Trial - Exposed to the desolate roads and winds of Ft. Davis, this is truly a war between man and nature.

Stage Three: The Road Race - Just when you thought you were done climbing, you climb some more.

The powerful women's squad couldn't have asked for a better performance.  Katiki, recently upgraded to Cat 3, reminded all Central Texas racers why categories don't apply to TWM.  She dominated every stage and brought home the GC victory.  Bettini Hodginski, snagged 5th.  Yours truly, with the power of the mountain spirits and an eagle or two at my back, secured 10th overall.  Micki McNair grabbed 12th while conquering some demons not even her sisters could help her eradicate.

The men's squad was blessed with a stage victory in the road race by none other than team director sportif Patricio Newelleta.  It was a definite highlight to run along side him as he soloed to victory.

Ft. Lauderdale = perfect prep for Ft. Davis.

While the rest of my team was doing some intense training in ATX the week before Ft. Davis, I was invited down to Ft. Lauderdale.   By now everyone in the cycling world is aware of the cutting edge training techniques emerging from top cycling squads in Cuba.  Cuban teams like Cohiba, Team Hospital Clinico Quirurgico and the now defunct National Biopreparations Centre Team
have been unleasing cycling powerhouses for years. 

This invitation was rare and a blessing so close to my "A" race of the season.  I was excited to get exposure to the top cycling coaches in the South East and epic, world renowned climbs of Ft. Lauderdale.  The climbs there are so monumental it has been rumored in recent years that in the months leading up to Le Tour, Team Milram flies secretly, via private jet, to Ft. Lauderdale.  Simply in an attempt to replicate the quad burning climbs of France. It's an obvious choice considering the "climbs" of Germany have been mocked in the peleton since the advent of the derailleur in 1899. That, and the sunkissed cheeks and flowing blonde locks of Team Captain Linus Gerdemann, allow the squad to train with out the threat of detection from local beach goers.

The climbs I encountered did not disappoint and my Cuban coach, Pablo Escobar, was not only impressed with my climbing form but also my state of the art cycling apparel.

Not surprisingly the bulk of my training time was spent sharpening my tan lines, getting my quads rubbed down by team massuer Jef D'hont and visiting close family friend, Michele Ferrari, for "B vitamin" injections.  I am confident if my actual cycling skills don't get me to the podium then at least my quad circumference will be intimidating enough to beat out some ladies in the finishing sprint.

Priming for a date with destiny.

Hammerfest was fast approaching and there was no turning back.  There is only one way up that mountain friend ... up.  The Women of Team Wooly Mammoth concocted an ingenious plan.  Why not harden our quads and our spirits by riding all the hardest climbs in Austin ... on the same day.  It was decided and guided by The Top Tube GPS 3000 (patent pending) and a route devised by team navigator/cartographer Micki McNair an epic day on the hills of Austin began.

The first series of long climbs flew by and all was well.  Lactic acid was kept at bay and exuberant calls of KEE-YAH abounded.  All who heard knew ... this was a day to be remembered.  We silently thanked Jemadari Roozani, team motivational speaker, life coach and Zulu Isangoma.  It was evident his herbs were working their majic and we couldn't resist documenting our domination.  Stopping mid pedal stroke for some candid team shots, we caught our breath and waited for what was to come.

There were few other cyclist spotted on our journey that day.  Our planned itinerary was just too ghastly, too gruesome, too monstrous for mere mortals to attempt.  Eventually however, we came across another brave soul.  He was only attempting to mount one of the climbs on our route, but even that proved too much.  Broken down on the side of the road, unable to go on, Team Wooly Mammoth sprung into action.  Singing spiritual hymns and mystic chants, we encircled our fallen compatriot and revived him with a four person quad massage.  Our healing hands breathed new life into him and after hours of intense four on one attention he was able to continue.  Overcome with emotion, he thanked us profusely, we silently nodded as he rode away.

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.