When in Rome...

Go running. Unless you can find a bike shop or a pool.

I used to look forward to training while on vacation. Back in the old days... when I was a marathon runner and nothing else. Vacations were easy back then. I didn't worry about finding an ocean, lake or pool to swim in, and I wasn't frantically Googling where to rent a road bike in a non-English-speaking country. All I needed was a pair of running shoes, shorts and a singlet -- my ticket to see the world. Even in the winter. I've run in almost every city I've traveled to. I've seen Paris, Rome, and London at times when most tourists are sleeping. I've gotten lost in Pittsburgh (easy to do) AND New York (next-to-impossible). I've run along Lake Geneva in Switzerland. I've run up a mountain in Scotland. I've run in the Hollywood Hills. I've run in violent wind storms in Brighton, England (see photo), and Chicago. I've stopped along the waterfront trail to admire starfish in Monterey Bay. I've gotten up at 4 a.m. to run in Houston in the summer. And because I AM the disaster magnet, I've even tripped and fallen over road construction barriers in Dublin, Ireland.

So, you ask: why don't I just pack my running shoes and stop complaining? It's simple: because I'm in training for an Ironman 70.3 in November. This is no time for a break. In fact, it's exactly the opposite -- it's time for hard training. How does a triathlete train hard in a foreign country on a limited budget? Your guess is as good as mine. I've scoped out beaches and bike shops in Italy. I've packed clothes for all three sports. I've looked up alternative workouts for swimmers without water and bikers without hardware. And tomorrow, I enter the realm of vacation training.

I will report back on my successes, failures and lessons learned. My one consolation is that I may come out of it with a faster run leg. And some new stories to tell. Hopefully not disaster stories.

Corning the Market: the Panasonic Lumix DMC-ZS3

I hadn't planned on blogging camera reviews, but my new camera, the Panasonic Lumix DMC-ZS3, arrived yesterday and I'm so excited about it that I feel the need.

I have a history with this camera. Three years ago, I needed an inexpensive point-and-shoot camera for my job at the Zoo - one that my marketing cohorts could easily use. After exhausting research (because I'm a camera geek), I settled on the Panasonic Lumix DMC-TZ1 -- the original version of the camera that arrived on my doorstep yesterday. The TZ1 turned out to be one of the best little super-zoom cameras on the market AND one of the best hybrid still/video cameras I've ever used. Its phenomenal video capabilities were found out by accident - when I dialed the wrong (video) setting and hit the shutter button. Mind you, I had no need for a video camera at work because I already have the semi-pro Sony HDR-A1U.

Since then, the TZ1 went through several generations to arrive in 2009 as the ZS3 (chronologically, the TZ7, as it's known overseas). Panasonic and others classify their super zoom, hybrid (still/video) cameras as "travel zoom." I suppose that's because it fits in your pocket. All I can say is this camera defies classification. It is just as good as the little pro-sumer cameras on the market -- you know, the ones that look like DSLRs but aren't. But, you may ask, why did I buy it? I mean, for home purposes, I already HAVE a DSLR (the Canon Digital Rebel XTi), a Fuji 10x super-zoom, a Canon point-and-shoot and a great Sony Mini-DV camorder. The reason is simple: my passion for music. I need a camera that can take excellent concert photos, great video and fit in my pocket. So I can get it past security. I CONFESS. I'm a live music junkie! That being said, I have a great opportunity coming up in September - I'm going to Italy on vacation then popping over to England to see my favorite band, Turin Brakes, live in London. Hmm... do I need a new kick-ass camera? Yep.

What I ended up with is one of the greatest little cameras I've ever held in my hand. The ZS3 has made major improvements from its "TZ" days. The zoom is phenomenal (12x), and it has even better wide angle capabilities - 25mm. The one complaint I always had about this camera is it doesn't have a manual mode -- specifically, shutter-priority. What I didn't learn from reviews is that it DOES have a setting that limits the shutter speed -- i.e., you can choose the minimum. BINGO. Action shots, here I come. Panasonic has added to it's "scene" selection for quick choices (including "high-sensitivity" -- also known as: "concert"). There's an "iA" (intelligent Auto) mode for no-brainer shooting. The ISO setting goes to 1600 for low light conditions, and all the usual bells and whistles are included: aperture priority to adjust for back-lighting conditions, auto-focus modes, white balance, excellent macro focus modes, image stabilization and color modes like sepia. They've also added burst shooting and bracketing and things I may never use like "face recognition." And then comes the new video capabilities: the video button is no longer on the mode dial (so you can take video on the fly), there's HD capability, and, finally, STEREO sound. Here's to the YouTube haters who will no longer insult my sound quality. I really can't ask for much more in a pocket-sized point-and-shoot. But to sweeten the deal, they even made it in BLUE.

Bike Configuration Experiment

Yeah, yeah, I should be consulting with professionals when I start messing with my bike angles. But, because bike fit usually costs at least $100, and, unlike many triathletes, I do not have gobs of disposable income, I started reading online articles. Articles like these ones: Peter White Cycles - How to Fit a Bicycle, The Effect of Body Configuration on Cycling Performance (PDF), and Slowtwitch.com's Proper Fit for Triathletes. The result of all my reading and looking at photos did one thing -- convince me that paying for bike setup is not necessarily the answer because everyone's body is different. Even if I paid for a fitting, I might have to change or tweak the configuration because of my own biomechanical issues.

So I started tweaking on my own. Seat higher... aero bars lower... seat more forward. The result? Once I found a comfortable position, I also found that I am sitting more forward on the seat, which is what I've always noticed in photos of most triathletes. (I always wondered why photos of me never look that way.)

The overall effect? I might be a little faster. The test? A 55-mile hilly ride yesterday. The result? Average speed 19+ mph for the whole ride, new PR's at all check points, and the ability to hold 23-25 mph on the flat sections comfortably without any additional aches and pains in my legs. A short run after my ride also proved no new issues with the configuration change and only a slight nagging from my (problem) hip joint. The downside? I probably need to spend a little cash on a new bike saddle because my pelvic bone is screaming at me in the new position.

Any advice on a new saddle is welcome. As much as I love my old one (the Selle San Marco Arami, see photo), I'm thinking I need one of those tri saddles: the Selle San Marco Apside or Azoto or the Profile Design Tri Stryke -- basically, the ones with the massive gel padding in the nose. If I can balance on it without pain, that would definitely be a good use of that $100.

If You Can't Stand the Heat...

...don't be a triathlete.

The temperature finally hit 90 degrees in Cleveland -- just as I was beginning to think hot weather training would never happen this year. When I saw the forecast for Sunday -- over 90 and humid -- I did what all crazy triathletes do: planned a brick, a bike-run workout. There are several explanations for why they call it a brick (Google it), but my personal favorite is "Bike-Run-ICK!" For some reason, bricks don't feel quite the same unless my running shoes are making squishy sounds after 10 minutes off the bike.

My training this year has been severely lacking in long brick workouts, which might explain why my legs feel massively fatigued when I start the run leg of my races. But today, I realized why I've not been doing bricks regularly. I JUST don't enjoy running off the bike unless it's ridiculously hot. Call me insane, but it just doesn't FEEL right.

Today's ride was not only hot and humid, but fast. I rode my usual 2-hour loop, starting out fast but not trying to break any records. My goal was to get my cadence up by remaining in my small chain ring for the entire ride. It was very windy, but I felt like I was riding into the wind no matter what direction I was going. With about 45 minutes left in my ride, I got passed by a group of three guys, and I decided to try to hang behind them as long as I could (without drafting). Once I got my legs spinning fast, I was able to hold between 23-25 mph for most of the rest of the ride. The guys -- Joe, Jared (Jerrod?), and Lee -- were great fun to ride with. Joe was heading into a taper for Ironman Louisville in three weeks. At the first red light stop, they encouraged me to hang with them. I had the most fun riding I've had in years (maybe because of the companionship, maybe because of the speed, I don't know).

I finished the 40 mile (very hilly) ride with an average well over 19 mph and feeling very confident in my ability to ride faster without giving up my run speed. That has always been the question: how do I get faster on the bike without building massive leg muscles that will hinder my run?

Unlike the ride, my run today was more like a death march. I asked my husband to crack the whip on me because my motivation has been so low lately. He rode his mountain bike with me to carry water and gatorade during my run. I always feel guilty asking him to do that -- like I'm breaking the runners' code of ethics. I once read that you should never ask your spouse to be your waterboy, or girl (although Jim was born on the exact same day as Adam Sandler, so maybe that's why I do it?). Anyway, I wonder if the triathlete code of ethics allows it? I sure hope so -- I don't think I could get through these hot, humid workouts without him, and it helps me simulate race conditions. Jim is so much more than my water carrier -- he is an integral part of my racing: my bike mechanic, my travel coordinator, my psychologist, my cheering section, and my best friend. And I hate that he sometimes has to pick up the pieces of a wasted me after poor performances.

But today, he was also a slave driver, as he did not let me quit running after 20 minutes ("you said 40 minutes, you'll do 40 minutes"). Thus begins my training for that race in Clearwater in November.

(the photo is the sweat stain I left on my driveway after my workout)

2009 Part II

This year has been a rollercoaster in my triathlon pursuits, but, as my last year in the 40-44 age group, I would like it to end on a positive note. If that's even possible. Right now, I'm struggling with low motivation to regroup and start another race build-up.

The middle of 2009 has been an act of desperation, and I'm not expecting much to change in the latter half. The next few months will involve quite a bit of juggling with my training because of work and vacation. To get through it with my sanity, I'm already planning for next year leading up to Ironman Lake Placid, to which, by some miracle, I managed to get an online entry before it sold out.

For the record, I only have one specific race left, the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Clearwater, Florida, on November 14. It's a race I didn't expect to qualify for and one I haven't even officially "registered" for yet (registration doesn't happen until later this month, assuming no disasters like losing the password they gave me). That gives me at least three full months of training if I start next week.

Three full months... with obstacles. In September, I'm taking a 10-day vacation to Italy and London. Oh, sure, running is a definite during this trip -- hopefully some great hot-weather training. But swimming and biking will be a little sketchier. I have grandiose plans to rent a bike and see the countryside AND swim in open water, perhaps the Mediterranean? The photo above is of a beach near Pisa, Italy, where we will be spending several days. So, apparently, there IS water (but why is there no one in it?).

If things don't go as planned, I still have the end of September and all of October to regroup on the bike and in the water, right? Obstacle number two: most of October will require long days at work for my employer's annual 8-day Halloween event, "Boo at the Zoo."

When I was younger, I could juggle all of this and even excel when the deck was stacked. I'd like to say I can still stay focused and motivated, but right now, all I see are long days ahead and quite a bit of decision-making and acceptance of a sub-par performance in November. I'll keep you posted.

Race Fallout in Michigan - Not the Expected Disaster

It's the day after a hard effort in the Whirlpool Steelhead Ironman 70.3 triathlon in Benton Harbor, Michigan - my last-ditch effort to pull success from my wasted legs, six weeks after Ironman Coeur d'Alene and six days after a hard comeback effort on the run in the Pittsburgh Tri. I took today off. Yesterday was a long day - not only because it was a 5-hour drive home.

Steelhead takes place in Jean Klock Park in Benton Harbor on the shore of Lake Michigan. It is a beautiful setting for a race, but I wouldn't describe the course as "fast," mainly due to rolling hills on the bike and run, wind, and a severe lack of crowd support. I've done Steelhead three times, probably more because of the location (driving distance) than anything else and the fact that I get to hang out with my good friend Mickey Rzymek who volunteers his time to support many of the Ironman races (and for some reason, it's easier to see him at races even though he lives close-by). Steelhead also has a great post-race spread by Pizza Hut, and who can argue with THAT?!

In 2003, the first year of the event, it served as a qualifier for age groupers to get into a full Ironman event. That year, I was still recovering from a bike accident in May, and I was trying, as usual, to get something out of my season after missing most of it from the injuries. I managed to win the overall women's race at Steelhead and got a slot in Ironman Florida that year, only to drop out of Florida from heat stroke on the run and subsequently give up triathloning for 5 years.

Last year, 2008, I decided to go back to Steelhead, only to realize it had become a HUGE event - someone told me it is the largest of the Ironman 70.3 races. That year, the swim was canceled due to high surf and I had a less-than-stellar race to finish 4th in my age group (40-44). But I still went back, and THIS year, the water was relatively calm and the day started out sunny and in the 60s.

The event had to compress space this year because of construction of a golf course where the parking lot - and the transition zone - used to be - in a nice square lot that provided ample space. This year, the transition was moved to a spot that had much less space and was very long and narrow. The result? Thousands of bikes had to be crammed on racks leaving almost no space between racks to run (with OR without your bike), and very little space between bikes to layout your stuff. Athletes also had to run a long distance from entrance to exit. It was a disaster in the making, for everyone.

The swim starts 1.2 miles down the beach - a distance that athletes have to walk. No one was happy about that. While we walked, my husband Jim and I (and some other athletes) contemplated why they don't do a loop swim in this race. Is the current too strong? The swim is set up to be "with" the current: if the current is south to north, the swim starts at the south point on the beach, if it's north to south, it starts 1.2 miles north. There were at least 16 start waves, and I realized how lucky I was to be starting in the 5th one. Waves were set up by age. While we were corralled at the swim start, I couldn't help but notice two women in my wave looked like teenagers - not a single line on their faces (!) and they were in two-piece suits, no wetsuits. One of the women in the group said "you can't possibly be over 40!" and we all laughed - the 18-24 age group was also starting with us. So we made a pact to just let them go first!

I came out of the water third in my wave - knowledge acquired thanks to Jim and a race official who shouted "third white cap!" But the full impact of having a good swim and being in the 5th wave didn't occur to me until I exited the water and arrived at the transition zone (to avoid being a nuisance in T1, I took off my wetsuit on the way in). Upon entering, I noticed there were very few people in transition, and things were still in a state of relative non-disturbance. By the time I finished the bike leg, the place looked like it was hit by a tornado. I had to swerve to avoid running over wetsuits, shoes, goggles, Clif Bars, bottles, AND PEOPLE who were sitting down. Lord knows how many people got hit and how much stuff was lost or destroyed. I never heard so much frustration voiced by athletes before, during and after the race. Unfortunately, the only thing for the race organizers to do would be to limit the number of race entries -- there really was NO other place to put the transition zone.

The bike leg started out calm and cool, but by the time I finished, the wind had picked up quite a bit. I spoke with pro triathlete Andy Potts after the race and he noted the wind was increasing at a rate of 4 mph PER hour, which meant that the people in the last waves were in for quite a ride. And the finishers who came in after 1 pm were treated to a driving rain as well. Although I avoided the rain, there was a constant headwind from about mile 40 to the finish for me. My average speed was up over 21 mph for the first half of the race, but once I hit that headwind, it rapidly decayed. The wind had gotten so strong that it also became a factor on the run. Surprisingly, I saw very few people on the bike leg. Three women in my wave passed me. I eventually re-passed one of them who was having problems with her bike. When that happens, I always feel a twinge of sorrow (even if it puts me ahead) - but equipment upkeep is the fourth leg of triathlon. I said a thankful prayer that my bike-mechanic husband helps my bike (and me) get to the starting line in top shape.

After pushing the bike leg harder than usual (part of my strategy), my run never really took off. I knew there were at least four women in my age group in front of me. I thought I could catch them because I started out feeling ok, but after the first mile and its large hill, I felt like I never had any "pickup." It could also have been fallout from running hard in Pittsburgh on Sunday. The run goes through the Whirlpool Headquarters "campus" and has very little shade, but the support stations are great and provided us with ice, sponges, and sprinklers! I started to feel some stomach discomfort around mile 6 and expected to have to stop at a port-a-john, but I just plugged away, walking the water stops and trying to keep my miles under eight minutes. I caught several women in my age group, the last one around mile 8 or 9 (I think) -- my hope was that she was dying harder than I was. The saving grace of the Steelhead run is that the last two miles are flat or downhill, and that carries you to the finish line. At that point I looked at my watch and became desperate to get in under 5 hours - which I did (barely). My time? 4:59:21. When Jim said he thought I won my age group, I was incredulous to say the least. My time seemed hardly worthy of that. But indeed, it was true. I won my age group and landed a slot to the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Clearwater, Florida, in November. One last chance to reap something from this season before I hit a new age group next year.

Six Days to Recover

Six days. I've given myself only six days to recover from an oly-distance tri before racing the Steelhead IM 70.3 this weekend. I don't know why six days seems like too short a time - most of us runners have raced multiple times in one weekend in our younger days. Maybe it's because the Steelhead race is a BIG one AND a qualifier for the 70.3 World Championship in November. Six days of recovery doesn't seem like enough time to do my best. It could very well be a disaster in the making (and by definition, then, I must take on the challenge).

But the tri season this year has felt like a desperation exercise for me ever since Ironman Coeur d'Alene in June. Finding races taking entries that don't conflict with events at work has been a challenge. So here I find myself robbing my body of needed recovery time in order to lend meaning to my triathlon season before it ends.

The only way to approach the race cram is to learn something from the experience. Will I be able to push my 44-year-old body through 13.1 miles after a hard 56-mile bike? Tomorrow I will know the answer. I have high hopes after last year's two half-iron distance races only eight days apart. Surprisingly, my run in the second one was five minutes faster. But that was eight days of recovery. And I was one-year younger. Stay tuned.

Return of the Killer Instinct (Pittsburgh Tri Race Report)

Somewhere along the line, I lost it. My killer instinct. Who knows whether it was from age or from my bike accident? It was already gone before I returned to racing last year. I no longer possessed the ability to kick into 5th gear to win a race. But I wasn't mourning. I'm 44 years old -- I certainly don't expect to win races anymore. These days, I don't even expect to win my age group. I have become content to travel to races and enjoy the experience.

Most of you who know me are probably thinking "WHAT? Who is SHE kidding?" But, yes, after Ironman CDA, my killer instinct seemed long gone, dead and buried. Until yesterday in Pittsburgh. Yesterday in Pittsburgh, I found it. And I yanked it up from the depths to win the overall women's race in the Pittsburgh Triathlon.

The Pittsburgh Tri is one of my favorite races. Because I love Pittsburgh. I love the culture, the museums, the restaurants, the overall setting of the city -- the beautiful city at the "Y" of the three rivers, surrounded by bridges and small mountains. I look forward to this race every year because I get to see Pittsburgh again.

The story for me this year was "the chase." Sure, there are many stories that could be written about this race: the bike course is brutal (a 40K in two loops of 6 miles uphill and 6 miles down in the HOV lane of I-279); the 10K run is flat but slow because it's on a dirt trail; the weather is usually hot, humid and often rains (this year it rained on the bike course); and the first leg of the 1500M swim is upstream (this year, against a stronger-than-usual current in the Allegheny River). But for me this year, the race came down to the last two miles.

In those last two miles of the run, my killer instinct returned to its full former glory. After putting in my fastest swim and bike times ever in Pittsburgh, I found myself about 1.5 minutes behind the women's leader. I knew this because my husband Jim yelled it out -- he also conveniently left out the fact that the woman in front of me was a fast runner. I already knew she was a fast biker because she passed me on the second loop uphill like I was standing still. Usually people who pass me like that can be reeled in quickly on the run, but not this one. By the time I even got a glimpse of her, we were almost to the 3-mile turnaround, and I had all but given up hope to defend last year's victory. I was running relaxed but fast, and I had begun doubting my ability to hold the pace. Unfortunately, I didn't even know what pace I was running due to lack of mile markers.

The only thing I had going for me was that the leader did not know I was closing in. That all changed at the turnaround when she saw me about 10-15 seconds behind. Whether she was running scared at that point, I'll never know - it was ME who was beginning to fall apart. My mind started the questioning:

• Was 5 weeks enough time to recover from an ironman?
• What's the big deal if I finish second?
• Is it time to accept the inevitable? (that at my age I won't be winning any races)
• How can I expect to hold this pace even if I pass her?
• If I do catch her, how will I feel when I die and she passes me at the finish line?

All the while, I was making gains, and in the midst of the questioning, I found myself right on her shoulder with about two miles to go. I had to make a quick decision: pass her now and hang on for dear life? or hang behind and try to pass her with about a half-mile to go? (risking that she might also surge in the last minutes of the race?) There was one thing I was sure of - I couldn't continue the mental gymnastics.

Enter, my killer instinct. I decided I would force my hand now and pass her with only one goal: to end the race. I wanted HER to throw in the towel - to give up chasing me, thinking I couldn't be caught. I mustered up my strength and made my move. She tried to go with me. I accelerated and she dropped back. I never looked back. I didn't want to give any indication that I was feeling the exhaustion. I was now running on pure desire. I wanted the win, and I was willing to work for it. Just one more chance to cross that finish line as first overall woman. Lord knows, every chance I get could be the last. My gamble worked, and I won by more than a minute. It also turned out to be my fastest time ever in the Pittsburgh Tri, a race I've done 5 times. And, although the race was small and I only beat a handful of women, I'll take it. And I'm glad it was in Pittsburgh. Because I LOVE Pittsburgh. And they also have the coolest trophies. (View the full results.)

This is What I do when I'm not Training

Many of you may know that I work in a Zoo marketing department. And as many of you have noted, I don't fit the marketing "mold." The closest I had ever come to marketing was in marketing & communications, and before my current position, I was a web applications developer at a university. It could have been a disaster in the making.

My Zoo job description started out as website updating, sending email newsletters, writing press releases and assisting (and managing) Zoo events and media opportunities. When I took the job, I was terrified of the second half of that sentence (the event and media stuff). I saw my goal as a way out of a boring going-nowhere programming job and a way into finally using my web skills -- graphics, design, writing, programming, etc. -- at an organization that can change the world for the better. I never thought I would launch a whole new career.

I now find myself doing things I never thought I'd do. Filming and editing and photographing behind the scenes at the Zoo. I meet the most amazing people who dedicate their lives to caring for and learning about animals -- to save them, not to exploit them. I also get to fuel my love for the ever-expanding web by maintaining the Zoo's presence in many social media outlets. What's better than loving your job and getting paid to share it with the world??

And believe it or not, I have survived a disaster or two while doing these things. I've broken a rib slipping on ice, been bitten by a domestic cat, and ... well actually, that's it. All of my own doing (would you expect anything less from the disaster magnet?)

The realization came the other day. I was in a boat on a lake going to film with the keeper of our summer lemur exhibit - on an island. I could pretend I was in Madagascar filming on location. Until the lemurs saw us and gathered on the shore... anticipating their morning feeding. So, well, it wasn't REALLY in the wild. It was EVEN BETTER -- and I can't wait to share it.

Here are a few lemur photos I took with my still camera - awesome animals. If you ever get to see them in the wild, don't pass up the opportunity:

Speed and the Macho Syndrome

I took a full week off from training following Ironman Coeur d'Alene on June 21. But as a masochist with OCD and an inferiority complex, I signed up for two races: an Olympic distance tri in Pittsburgh at the end of July and a half-ironman one week later. It forced me to get back into training after the ironman. It took about two weeks before my calves stopped feeling like cement on the run, but my biking and swimming came around much quicker. In fact, my biking seems to have gone to a whole new level.

When my bike got back from Coeur d'Alene, courtesy of TriBike Transport, I decided I needed a change. Although I was never a speed demon, biking had become boring and stagnant -- and it showed in IM CDA. Without the luxury to buy a decked-out carbon fiber bike, I made a less-expensive upgrade: Speedplay pedals and new bike shoes (actually, old never-worn shoes that I won in the Chicago Tri in 2002). How will that help? I don't know, it just seems like "what the fast people use." And we all know that new shoes make us faster, right?

My first few recovery rides were on the trainer so I had no idea how fast I was going and I don't have a power meter. But my first road ride on a familiar course was a surprise -- it was consistently 1-2 mph faster overall than the last time I rode it, pre-ironman. The kicker was that I wasn't trying to go faster, it just happened. Since ironman, all my rides are faster, I feel stronger and I can push myself harder both mentally and physically. Jim theorizes that it's the rest. We'll see in a few weeks if it pays off in a race.

Which brings me to my other point. I've regained the killer instinct. During yesterday's long ride, I saw ahead of me someone wearing the jersey of a local bike shop tri team. I chased him down, said "hello," and passed him like he was standing still. I never looked back. When I stopped at the red light at the next intersection, he was right behind me, possibly drafting -- I had no idea he was there. He said nothing to me and just sailed through the red light like I didn't exist. I call this the "macho syndrome." It's not the first time it's happened to me. I constantly come upon male cyclists who HATE to be passed by women. It happens on the road. It happens in races. In triathlons, when someone passes you, you must drop back out of the draft zone before you attempt to repass. Macho guys just continue to race you. After you've legally overtaken them. But it's not just the "racing" behavior. It's also the attitude. The unfriendliness. Why don't I see this behavior in swimming and running? What is it about cycling that triggers the macho syndrome? And, how many stories have my male friends told me about how they "took on" drivers who were taunting them while riding? Is it the wheels? Do motorcyclists act the same way? It's a mystery to me, but I will say this: the greatest feeling is to pass one of these guys on the run in a race. You KNOW who you are.

(photo by Julie Gauvreau)