Omaha Weekend Race Report

The Cornhusker State games time trial was the first of three races I competed in at this year's Omaha cycling weekend. The out and back 13.6 mile TT course was redesigned this year, and it's a good one. It features long sections of relatively flat roads on a new asphalt surface, a steep descent with a sweeping turn, and a helluva steep climb about three miles from the finish. I had a good race. I lit the jets from the start, stayed aero through the descent & turn, held steady on the flats, powered up the steep ascent and punched it for the last 2K home. I covered the 13.6 miles in 30 minutes and 13 seconds, which I'm proud to say is the first TT in which I broke through the 27 MPH avg ceiling. Results


Photo by Dan Farnham

Later that day, I raced the cat 3 Papillion Twilight crit. The course is in downtown Papillion, featuring a long false flat through the first four corners, a short descent followed by a small but steep climb in corners 5-6, a long descent and a wide sweeping turn on corner 7 before a sharp turn and 150m to the start/finish. Saturday was miserably hot. Like 95F with a heat index of 110. Our race started fast. The break occurred about ten minutes into the race. In it was Lee Bumgarner (Flatwater), Kyle McClellan (KAOS), Darren Richter (unattached), Ryan Feagan (MWCC) and I. While we still had 40 minutes of racing, this group had a decent chance at staying away because the big teams were represented in the break. We held a good pace to distance ourselves from the peloton. With teammate Feagan in the break, I attacked twice. After the second attack, Bumgarner countered, forcing me to dig deep to latch back on. Our attacks ended up shedding Richter and Feagan. That didn't work as planned. Sorry, Ryan. Then, Bumgarner kept the heat on for the next three laps, burying me, too. I gave in, sat up and waited until teammates Feagan and Jonathan Wait (MWCC) bridged up . From there, the three of us held tempo for the last seven laps. Ryan unselfishly led us out for the finish. Wait took third, I was fourth, Feagan fifth. Congrats to Bumgarner and McClellan for first and second respectively. Results

Finally, the Dave Babcook Memorial road race on Sunday was a war of attrition. The cat 1-2-3s started together for a 72 mile race on a seven mile circuit course, covering much of the same ground as the TT the day before. On a scorching day of 97F and 115 heat index with a steady 15-20 MPH southerly wind, a four hour road race with 10 trips up a steep hill wasn't going to be pretty. Given all this, I was surprised that the attacks came often and early. We weren't even five miles into the race before somebody up front gutter-balled the pace-line on a crosswind before the first hill climb. It didn't stop there. A short while after climbing the hill, the next furious attack and more gutter-balling came on an even nastier crosswind section. It was like this for the first three laps, or until Lou Waugaman (Velosport Iowa) and Marc Walter (KAOS) got away. But with 50 miles to go, they sat up after a couple laps and were brought back in. The group chilled out through the next lap. At least most of us did. That's when many of us in the peloton found out that we were actually chasing Justin Maresh (KAOS) and Lee Bumgarner (Flatwater), who were apparently 1:25 up the road. We let them go and over three laps put 4 minutes on the peloton. With three laps to go, some of the 1-2 guys got motivated to shake their numbers down. The attacks started again. Redemske & I marked cat 3 Mark Merritt (Joy Ride) when he went with the chase group. I managed to hold on while Bryan fell off. When it came to the final hill climb, my quads seized. Merritt rode away to take second, I took third. Congratulations to Maresh and Bumgarner for their impressive victories. Results

A big thanks goes out to race directors Craig Tuttle and Mark Stursma for coordinating these events. The races were very well organized and had terrific payouts. And many thanks goes out to the scores of volunteers, especially those handing out water at the feed zone, Sunday. There could have been a thousand other things that you could have been doing with your time than standing alongside a country highway-- in that heat and humidity-- handing up cold water bottles to us racers. I can't tell you enough how much we appreciated it. Indeed, well done all.

Vampire Threat Level: DANGER

Once again, we're on the verge of another TT, the Cornhusker State Games TT, which of course brings out the best among us. And by best, I mean super-human, non-dead, flesh-eating-gory-best. And as sure as I am to being dropped on the sprint to Ft Calhoun, my arch enemies in Lincoln, the KAOS Vampire coven, have been fasting and sharpening their vampire fangs, or whatever their pre-slaughter ritual is, for this event.

So will the MWCC Lycans/werewolves (dogs) answer the call and show up to the race? Well, with the moon at full phase on Saturday July 16th, I'd say the chances are good for a show down.

But, who knows? MWCC's Kevin Burke is going to be out of town. And while it's true that Paul Webb's broken elbows are mending well, they still might be a little tender for the aero position. And that dog Shim will probably be saving his legs for two crits. That, and marking every tree along the Papillion course as his 'territory'. Kent's probably recovering somewhere along the Italian riviera from his most recent eurotrash gran fondo. And there's a good chance that MOD will be sitting in his underwear, roto-tweeting how his man-crush Philip Gilbert is faring on the Col de Latrape.

Sorry, KAOS. I think you guys will be on your own again.

Regardless, it's gonna be a hot & sunny one out there on Saturday. And that got me wondering, how is it that vampires can now brave the flesh-burning sunlight?

Well, one theory being tossed around is that a former teammate of yours is openly dispensing KAOS team secrets on gamjams-midwest. Yes, Bryan Redemske is a recovering vampire and a current pet-project of the MWCC lycans.


Photo credit: David Allen Seevers

By the way, Bryan's rehabilitation is coming along nicely. We're on to the final step of recovery, which according to the 12 Step Vampire Recovery Program, consists of daily feedings of Heinz 57 splattered on the neck of a used department store mannequin.

Anyway, here's how a recovering vampire copes with the sunlight.

It doesn't take long in the summer to burn your dome if its left unprotected. In my experience, Ozone Sport pretty much takes care of that. It's SPF 60 — pretty heavy-duty stuff... only one application for a five-hour ride.



Great. Thanks a lot, Ozone Sport. We're spared skin cancer in exchange for Count Dracula on a TT bike. So with five hours of protection and no MWCC dogs to boot, I'd say the KAOS coven is going to destroy whatever's in their path.

To this bit of ominous news, I heed the warning provided by my friend James Peters, who wrote me this recently:

My wife and I were up in the pacific northwest last year. Apparently we drove into Forks, WA and didn't realize that's where the Twilight series was filmed. Based on the recent entries, I think you may want to include this in your next vampire entry.



Vampire Threat Level: DANGER, indeed.

See you at the races. Happy Friday everyone
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Mr Kitty, the Garage Door and the Pet Cemetery

Steve Tilford's blog has had a thing or two about rescuing cats lately. It got me thinking about my childhood cat, Mr Kitty.

Originally, the family cat's name was Jade. Dad got him and his litter mate, Misty, on a business trip while selling banking equipment to a rural bank. Apparently, the transaction wasn't going too well until Dad agreed to take home a couple kittens that the branch manager wanted to unload. So Dad closed the deal and brought home the two cats in a cardboard box. Win-win. My sister named them Jade and Misty for their solid grey coats with greenish blue eyes. Misty's name stuck. But not Jade's. He went through a bunch of names before we finally settled on 'Mr. Kitty.'

The name of Mr Kitty was given to him by our piano tuner, Mr Brooks. Mr Brooks was a black man from the deep south. He liked to talk to our cat with a raspy southern twang while tuning our piano. Why, hello dere Misser Kitty! Well take a look at you, struttin' yer stuff.... Aint ya proud, Misser Kitty!.... and so forth. Anyway, the Mr Brooks' nickname stuck and from then on the cat was known as Mr Kitty.

Years later, my parents went out for a date one evening, leaving us kids behind. Dad backed out the 1976 Pontiac Grand Safari 'catholic-cruiser' station wagon from the garage while Mom stood by the garage door's button. Mom was at the garage door button because there was something wrong with the door's remote controller. Or more likely, there wasn't a remote controller because back then, the 400 MHz rolling code transmitter/receiver unit hadn't been invented yet. Regardless, after the car cleared the garage, she punched the button and scurried beneath the closing door and into the car waiting in the driveway.

Dad was about to continue reversing when he noticed that Mr. Kitty was also scurrying to avoid the closing garage door. But while Mom ran across the garage floor, Mr Kitty was running upward along the outside slope of the closing door's panels. Yes, like he was on a huge treadmill. But unfortunately for Mr Kitty, the treadmill was coming to an end, and it wasn't going end pretty. Mr Kitty would either fall to the ground or get wedged between the door and the top of the garage.

How Mr Kitty got up there will always be a mystery. We figured that he jumped up on top of the door while it was open and the car was parked beneath it. I suppose to a cat, a warm high perch away from the hustle of a bunch of kids made a lot of sense. Apparently, his exit strategy was to jump down on the car beneath. Unfortunately, he lacked the foresight of knowing that the car might not always be there.

I doubt that was going through Mr. Kitty's mind at that moment. That goes for my parents, too, as they watched in horror as Mr Kitty kept running upward while the door continued closing.

Mom bolted out of the car before the final panel sealed the door and Mr Kitty to the top of the garage. But she didn't run toward the garage; she ran towards the front door. Remember: Mom was effectively the garage door's remote control, and now she had to go through the house to get to the button.

We kids were watching TV. Vanna White turning letters on Wheel of Fortune or something of the like while our cat was wedged into the top of the garage. Who knows, somebody might have been buying a vowel while poor Mr Kitty's head was about to pop off. All of a sudden, the doorbell was ringing like crazy. So fast, you could only hear the ring of the first chime among the flurry of electro-static buzzing that came from an over-loaded switch.

We all ran to the front door. From Mom's nearly unintelligible words, I managed to hear that Mr Kitty was stuck on top of the garage door. Mr. Kitty, stuck and garage door all seemed to work neatly together, but on top? Now, that didn't make sense at all. But there was no time to question it. We raced back through the dining room, kitchen and family room. I was the first to the garage, but I had run so fast through the garage access door that I shot past the garage door button and stumbled down the steps. Two of my brothers also tumbled behind me, Keystone Cops style. Finally somebody managed to push the button. The door opened and released our poor cat from the top of the door to the concrete below.

Dad said later that when the garage opened, Mr Kitty hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Mr. Kitty laid there motionless. He appeared to be dead.

But after a few moments, Mr Kitty stirred, got up and stumbled away from the garage. Pilled-up furballs fell from his body. He wasn't happy and his meows sounded like a warped vinyl record, but he was alive. Dad scooped him up and loaded him into the Grand Safari, and with all of us kids, drove to the vet to have him checked out. In the end, other than some very heavy bruising, he was fine.

There. That's it folks. No Vampires, no lycans; no shark jumpings and no reanimated cats from pet cemeteries in today's post. Just a simple house cat that got pinched at the top of a garage door that lived another day. In fact he did more than just that: Mr Kitty thrived another 15 years before dying at the ripe old age of 22. He was an awesome cat.

Happy Friday, and RIP Mr Kitty
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Stuntman Sam

Among the many things that come to mind when I think of the Fourth of July is Evel Knievel. That starry red white and blue jumpsuit probably has something to do with it. He also did a lot of jumps in the summer, many of them televised around the holiday weekend. I loved the thrill of watching his jumps. I even had one of those action figure and motorcycle get-ups that I'd launch down a flight of stairs.



I've always been somewhat a sucker for cheap thrills. Here's one such incident that also came to mind when I thought of Evel Knievel.

Back in second grade there was a rumor going around that a fourth grader named Sam Gibson was going to attempt to jump his bicycle over a local golf course pond. It was being billed as something like Knievel jumping the shark tank, only this was a 4th grader on a bmx bike jumping over lake carp. Anyway, I was intrigued. I pushed my way up through the cafeteria line to hear the ring leader, Mickey 'Jonesy' Jones, telling a bunch of us wide-eyed kids what 'Stuntman Sam' Gibson was going to do later that day. Jonesy worked up the hype until he had us all feeding out of his hand. Then he hit us with the unexpected: Gibson was going to charge 50 cents admission to watch it.

In cafeteria terms, 50 cents was a lot when you could buy a box of lemon-drink for a dime, a bag of BBQ potato chips for 15 cents, and a rectangular slice of soggy pizza or a soybean hamburger for 40 cents. Shoot, that was good money.

But Jonesy was selling it like a carnival freak. He had me dialed in on the pitch: Today only, a caped Stuntman Sam Gibson, flying over Greenbriar Hills #7's pond on a jet-black wonder bike. My stomach growled. I was hungry. But no soybean burger was going to satisfy the hunger I had that day. My appetite was whet for thrills. So I stepped boldly forward, plopped down two quarters and told him I'd be there.

The afternoon's phonics lessons were a total loss. All I could think about was Gibson's dare-devil feat. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the dismissal bell rang. I made like the wind for the golf course to get a front row seat.

Greenbriar Hills hole #7 is a 97 yard par three over a small pond. The tee box is elevated 30 feet above the pond. I arrived to find two people standing next to a 2 x 10 plank ramp propped up with a cinder block at the foot of the pond. One person was another classmate, David Carey, the other was the event promoter, Jonesy. I was dismayed by the low attendance and reasoned that perhaps 50 cents was too steep a price for admission. But more importantly was the noticeable absence of Gibson. I held out hope that he hadn't gone yellow on us.

Brady: Hey Jonesy, where's Gibson?

Jonesy: Relax kid. He's getting ready.

Getting ready? Where? While there was a half-way house nearby, it was closed during the 0ff-season and it's bathrooms locked up. Other than that, there was only open space surrounded by a thick line of trees marking the out of bounds territory.

Jonesy then clears his throat, takes a step forward, opens his arms and calls out:

Jonesy: Ladies and Gentlemen may I have your attention...

I looked at the other person standing there. Carey rolled his eyes while Jonsey bantered on...

Jonesy: ...Today only, for the amazingly low admission price of 50 cents, you will get to witness "Stuntman Sam" Gibson attempt to do what no other fourth grader, or possibly anyone ever, has ever tried: to clear Greenbriar Hills country club's #7 pond on a bicycle. Many have likely considered it, but none have been so daring as Stuntman Sam! Let's give him a big round of applause.

Jonesy looks at me and makes me feel uncomfortable. He's actually expecting us to clap. He nods his head in encouragement and apparently won't continue until we comply. We being to clap feebly. Jonesy turns to face the #7 tee box and continues

Jonesy: ... Stuntman Sam, are you ready?

From the thicket behind the tee box, the pre-pubescent voice of Gibson squeaks out "READY!" My heart rate kicks up a notch. I wasn't going to be disappointed.

Jonesey: Drum roll, please!

Another a glance toward us, the two spectators, to animate a drumming sound. We eagerly join in this time.

Jonesy: OK Stuntman Sam, this is it. On your marks, get set, Go!!!

Gibson comes charging out of the thicket on his black bmx wonder bike. He's also dressed in all black, but best of all was a flowing black cape.

I should also point out that he wasn't wearing a helmet. But back then, nobody wore helmets.

A transformation had taken place in my eyes. No longer was Sam Gibson a simple fourth grader. No, he had become a dare devil stuntman that was spinning like a monkey toward that plank. At that moment, I believed he had a legitimate chance to clear the lake.

Reaching terminal velocity, Gibson's front wheel enters the ramp. A moment later, he's airborne, flying over the lake --

^^ CHOMP ^^

What the -- ??

I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my neck, and through my peripheral vision, I see Jonesy's vampire fangs...

AIYEEE!!!!!

CHOMP-SNAP!! SLURP, GLURBLE-GLURBLE-GLUBLE...

Gotcha again.

Happy Friday everyone
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Vampires on TT Bikes

Yesterday, Ian Robertson posted a theory that pitted Lincoln's KAOS roadies as vampires against Omaha's MWCC lycans (warewolves).


I have a theory that Cat 1-2 Kaos riders are vampires and Cat 1-2 Midwest Cycling Community riders are lichens and they can’t be in the same race at the same time.

It got me thinking. Perhaps Ian is onto something here. But why restrict it to just the KAOS riders? Perhaps all Lincoln roadies could be infected by the blood-sucker's bite.

So what if Ian was also a vampire? It's been said that vampires don't cast a reflection. Perhaps his race timing chip was affected by this phenomenon, because the chip apparently didn't reflect his official time, either.



I can imagine the scene at the Velo-GreenStreet Team HQ last Friday night as they went through the final race day's checklist.

Duryea: Did you get the timing chips picked up, Randleman?

Randleman: Yeah. I picked up the TT-1000 Timing Chip system today.

Duryea: What?! The TT-1000 system is total crap! I told you: get the TT-2000 because it's paranormally-tuned and undead compliant.

Fortunately for Ian, Garmin saved the day


Nice job to Jarred for putting 39s into me over 24mi. Still lusting after that wind-tunnel experience of his!
53:39 for 24mi today (no idea how correct that distance measurement is until I get the Garmin downloaded) … Hoped to do faster, but never really felt on top of the gear. Note to self – ride tt bike more

I don't know about you, but TTs are already scary enough. And now, thanks to Garmin, vampires' times can also be recorded when they throw the 55-12 hammer down at local TT races.

But I still wasn't satisfied. So, looking for more clues, I studied David Seever's photos from last week's State Championship TT. Tell me if you don't agree with my keen eye at picking a vampire


Overall TT Winner, Jarred Berger, and a Lincoln KAOS vampire


Joe McWilliams, from Lincoln KAOS, another one


Marc Walter, Lincoln KAOS and possible vampire


Ian Robertson, also from Lincoln, also a vampire


Greg Hagele, Ian's teammate and member of the Flatwater coven


MWCC's Kevin Burke. The first flaw in Ian's theory. But as the founder of KAOS and a Lincolnite, Kevin is quite likely a vampire


Eric O'Brien. Whoops, an Omaha MWCC dude. Oh well, there goes Ian's theory. But hang on, Eric's also a transplant from California and likely a repressed vampire, resorting to drinking pig blood.

And what about Shim? He's like older than Methuselah. I bet that he's a vam --

!!! KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK !!!

Hang on, somebody's at my front door.

Well Hi, Ian. Why, that's funny, I was just blogging about your vampire theory when, wait a minute. You don't look so good. You look absolutely famished, and your eyes...they're are all red and stuff. Are you alrig --

^^ CHOMP ^^

AIYEEE!!!!!

CHOMP-SNAP!! SLURP, GLURBLE-GLURBLE-GLUBLE...
...