Fart

Theresia, Lukas, Viktor, Lasse. The dog didn't come riding with us.

A lot of people are saying that a good statistician can make a graph say anything they want it to say.  Onkel Olav and I have gotten our kicks for many years looking at former Seawolf Viktor Brännmark's graphs, maps and tables on his website. We can see how long it takes him to rollerski around Frösön and we can see how high his heart rate goes during a hillbounding interval workout at Kanisbacken. But it was one of Viktor's most recent graphs that has more personal interest for me. Here it is:

As you can see, his workout time is displayed on the x-axis. And the y-axis is not what you think. It's actually his velocity. You may notice that just past the 2:23 mark, when velocity was steadily climbing thru 58 kilometers per hour, it suddenly drops to zero. I'm sure you're asking yourself, what's going on here? Things were going so well.  Everyone knows Viktor likes to go as fast as he can, so why did he stop? What story is Viktor telling us with this graph? I participated in this particular workout, so I'm able to share some insight. 

Climbing the Col d'Herbouilly

The 2013 Seawolf Dream Team of Lasse, Lukas and Viktor (Viktor on the NCAA podium and all three in the top 10) were among those in France for Marine and Erik's wedding, and they graciously invited Thersia, D and I out for a little spin around the Alps with them on our bikes. We rode over a local favorite, the Col d'Herbouilly, and raced down the other side to the Saints - Martin and Julien - en Vercors. After a ride 'round the valley, we climbed back out for a final big Alpine descent into the Gorges de La Bourne before making the gradual climb back up home to Villard de Lans.

I quickly figured out my strengths and weaknesses over the first climb.  Considering that Lasse lives in a city that is world-famous for its bike-friendly customs and practices, and considering that Viktor is a professional athlete and one of the fastest skiers in Sweden, and considering that "Der Panzerwagen" is a natural climbing machine on a road bike, it was clear to me that I was not going to be able to assert myself on the uphills, and would just have try to stay in the draft and hang on as well as I could.  But I also found out rather early that there are advantages to being a cannonball on a bike.  No matter how much I sat up and spread my arms out to try to catch air and slow myself down, I still needed to keep steady pressure on the brakes to avoid rolling away from the group on the downhills. I pride myself on my ability to understand strategy and make good tactical decisions, but this was just too easy: If I wanted to go to off the front of this group, the obvious place for a breakaway would be in the last long, steep downhill into the Gorge.

I was second in the group, following Viktor, and we'd rolled over into the descent into the gorge where we got going too fast to pedal. So we got into a tuck, and of course this was my moment to pounce! I came around Viktor and leaned into the first big sweeping right-hander. And then I found out that this was precisely the point where the local highway department decided to lay down a new layer of chipseal on the road! The loose chipseal gravel was lying at least a couple centimeters thick across the road surface.

It's not a real French bike ride unless you stop for espresso and a meat and cheese plate during the ride. Thanks, Lasse, for sponsoring us with mid-ride refreshments!

The thing I find most interesting about Viktor's graph is that the velocity decreases to zero so rapidly.  It was my impression, as I was sliding down the highway on my ass, that my speed was decreasing very, very slowly.  I spent some time sliding on my side, and then I rolled over for a while to give some other parts of my body a chance to become familiar with the road. Then it occurred to me that I could probably save some skin if I got my weight up onto my toes and my gloved hands to slide like that for a while. And finally it dawned on me to climb up onto my bike for a while and let my handlebars and brake hoods take some of the friction. By and by, I came to a stop.

Rolling through St Martin en Vercors

But the whole episode must have not have been as dramatic as it seemed, because my bike still worked (after I twisted the handlebars back into place and made a few other minor adjustments) and I was able to continue the ride with the group just fine, though my outfit wasn't so stylish and sleek anymore. And after a couple hours getting fixed up at the local hospital after the conclusion of the ride, and a little more time getting my bike put back in order in the evening, I was good to go for a nice ride to Meadre and Autrans the following day.

Lucky and Viktor in the Gorges de la Bourne

I know exactly what you're wondering now: What lesson did Adam learn from all this? I learned several things, actually. This was my first-ever "real" bike crash, and I have to say the experience wasn't that bad. Often when I'm riding down a pass in a tuck like that, I imagine what a nightmare it would be to crash at highway speed. But as long as you don't run into anything hard and don't break any bones or knock your head on something, you really only lose some skin, and that grows back eventually. I also learned that if you're getting ready for a ride with the Dream Team and you think you might crash, consider using an older, worn-out biking outfit that you won't mind giving up. Because there might not be much left of it after the ride. But most importantly, if you're going to spend time with a doctor, do it in France! Far more than an hour's worth of the local doctor's exclusive attention (including all the antiseptic supplies and bandages) cost me 25 bucks. I told her I felt like I should pay her a lot more but she said she couldn't accept tips. Back in the good 'ole USA, you can't even stand across the street and look at a doctor for that price. Count me as a fan of the French medical system.

I didn't bother to try to repair these shorts.

The funniest comment I heard all wedding-weekend, though, was what Viktor said to me the next day:  "This weekend, I realized I have a real sickness. When I saw you crash in front of me, of course I was worried about you but my first thought was I need to stop my clock until we start riding again. Because when we're stopped, it doesn't count as training."

If you crash rollersking this fall, give me a shout; I can probably hook you up with bandages. I have some leftovers (new; not used).

Bubbles

Villard de Lans, France was the place to be on July 7 for the Skiwolf social event of the year.  The wedding of Marine Dusser and Erik Bjornsen was on the docket. Current and former Seawolves came from 'round the world to be a part of it.  Everyone was having way too much fun to organize a Seawolf group photo, but maybe it's better we didn't anyway. D tells me that if you're always taking photos of everything, you're not giving your memory and imagination a chance to do what they're meant to do. So here's a fun mental exercise that you can try at home. In the scene provided below (the site of Marine and Erik's wedding reception, with Marine's old high school in the distant center background), imagine a group photo containing the Seawolves described in the caption below.

Back row, left to right: Synnøve Bruland, Anna Berecz, Niko Harmanen, Adam Verrier, Viktor Brännmark, Lukas Ebner, Lasse Mølgaard-Nielsen, Theresia Schurr (not a UAA Seawolf, but a UAF Nanook, so close enough). Front row: Sadie Bjornsen, Étienne Richard, Karina Smith, Erik Bjornsen, Marine Dusser, Martin Kapso, and Tracen Knopp.

Here's the scene outside the church in the middle of the street downtown. All those skis are Simon Fourcade's race skis. I don't think he knew they were being used for this purpose.

Here's an interesting one: Lukas, Synnøve, Viktor... What is on Lasse's mind? What is Erik trying to tell me with his hand signals?

At least two of the people in this photo have been on the UAA Ski Team.  Possibly three. I don't know.

Oh What A Tangled Web We Weave...

My friend Kate has lived in Cordova for quite a while now. Kate was an all-star ski racer out of Fairbanks a while back, and when it was time for college she chose the right color - green.  But it wasn't UAA's shade of green.  It was Dartmouth green. After a successful college racing career she spent some time racing for the Rossignol team, chasing the elite circuit around before moving back to Alaska and settling in Cordova - one of the prettiest little towns you could ever wish to see.

Here's a picture I took in Cordova one time.

Karin is another friend of mine.  She lives in Switzerland. The first time I ever met Karin, it was at Kincaid Park, about fifteen years ago when I was introduced to her by her University of Denver teammate, Tara.  I'd known Tara for many years because she grew up in Anchorage and distinguished herself by beating her friend Kikkan Randall time after time, after time, after time (four times in a row for those keeping score) at the Alaska State High School Championships.  Neither Kikkan nor anyone else of that generation ever managed to win a high school state championship during that time because Tara won them all.

A few years later, after graduating from University of Denver, Karin moved to Bozeman, Montana to get a master's degree in exercise physiology while skiing professionally for Rossignol.  Kate was Karin's Rossi teammate and they graciously let me tag along for a little pre-championship high-altitude training camp (based out of Karin's apartment in Bozeman in 2006) when I suddenly got the urge to race at the US Nationals that year.

So anyway, I was sitting next to Kate on a flight out of Cordova a few months ago when she told me she was moving to Unalaska, a remote industrial (fishing) outpost in the Aleutian Islands, and she mentioned that Karin was going to come from Switzerland for a visit. A few months passed, and I found myself, as I often do, sitting in the departure area at the Anchorage airport, waiting for a flight to Unalaska that would never go because of - as always - stormy weather in the Aleutians. Predictably, the flight was cancelled and as I was leaving the airport, Karin suddenly appeared out of nowhere and told me she had been waiting for the same flight! She was stranded in Anchorage for at least the next day while she tried to figure out how she was going to get to Unalaska. Not having seen Karin since that time many years ago when I stopped by her house in Davos for some Spätzli, and with a suddenly very free schedule for the afternoon, we decided to jump in the car go for a day hike.

July

It's the first day of July. And everyone knows what that means; it's time to go skiing. We went out to our local snowfield this afternoon and did a few laps in the summer sunshine.

All in all, a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon.