Barbara Howe

Frozen over

Published:

December 18, 2009, 21:23,

Updated:

December 18, 2009, 21:34

By:

Barbara Howe

Chilly temps, not mud, at Portland USGP finale

Every year I look forward to racing in cold, wet and muddy Portland. This year the weather played a trick on everyone and instead of dumping an insane amount of rain it got really cold and stayed dry.

Saturday's race had a little tiny bit of residual mud that caused a first lap crash. Of course I was behind the crash and once things sorted out I managed to make my way past several ladies. It was fun riding the BMX track dry, I even caught huge air (at least an inch) a few times over the second kicker. Linda Sone (Planet Bike) grabbed on my wheel when I caught up to her and we battled. She put the hurt on me and took eighth place leaving me with two UCI points, eighty-four dollars and ninth place.

I was a little bit over-dressed in the 33-degree Fahrenheit weather in my leg warmers, arm warmers, short sleeve wool undershirt and ear warmer. Linda had a different take on the weather, she wore only a short sleeve skinsuit with no leg covering and no undershirt. She thought the low 30s was warm and I thought it was cold, I guess that's the difference between living in California and living in Minnesota.

On Sunday the course was even better, we got routed up some makeshift steps and a different part of the BMX course. My race was not so good. Warm up went well, I had a good call up, my legs felt great and the bike worked perfectly. When the start whistle went off, however, I clipped in and heard "whup whup whup", my rear tire was flat. I watched, unable to believe this was happening to me, as everyone powered away up the start straight. Not knowing what else to do I kept pedaling as a few tears crept from the corners of my eyes. I couldn't stop thinking how unfair this was and how did the tire go flat between call ups and the start? It was even worse that I had just glued this tire earlier in the week and it saw only one race before flatting.

Everyone was staring at me as I pedaled as fast as one can on a flat tire. I had to run a few sections on the flat and about a minute in I saw Emily van Meter, usually a competitor, sidelined with a cold and I asked her, "Should I quit?" She yelled back at me, "it's a 'cross race, don't ever quit".

With that cleared up I continued my slow ride/run to the pit. Earlier I told Tim that he didn't need to be in the pit so my bike was just hooked over a section of fence. I ran in, dropped the old bike, grabbed my new one and took off. At this point Tim realized something was wrong and headed over to the pit. He moved my bike out of the pit lane in case someone else needed a bike.

Riding with air in both tires is AWESOME! My legs felt really good, perhaps the best they've felt all year, good legs coupled with mad passing skills I managed to ride into the money in fourteenth place.

I spectated most of the men's race with my friend Andrew but when the wind picked up and the sun disappeared the temperature dropped several degrees. Even in my long down coat and multiple layers I was way too cold to watch the end of the race.

Onto bigger and better things next weekend at National Championships in Bend!

Barbarella
www.barbarahowe.com

Dedication

Published:

November 3, 2009, 20:40,

Updated:

November 3, 2009, 20:45

By:

Cycling News

A stranger provides inspiration on a muddy weekend

We all know that to reach the top level of any sport one must be dedicated to the effort. There’s the maintenance of one’s diet, training and recovery, and then there’s the endless logistics of flying across the country, renting cars, sorting out hotels, and navigating to race venues. Often, all of this seems harder than the racing itself. Doing all of it alone makes everything even more challenging.

This past weekend I happened upon a story of dedication that needs to be shared.

First, a realization: my races are a family affair. I’m lucky to have parents who enjoy coming to races to support me.

My Father often plays the role of pit chief, while my Mother is a fearless maestro of her vast collection of cowbells. My boyfriend, Tim, travels to most races with me. He’s not only my photographer, he also maintains the Ibis Hakkalügis and scrubs the mud stains out of my Vanderkitten/Hot Shoppe skinsuits. Fortunately, I don’t have to do any of this alone.

For the Granogue and Wissahickon races I secured a tent and a stationary trainer, and I was grateful because the weather was cold and raining. As I warmed up on the trainer at Granogue on Saturday, a young man named Bryan Fawley of the Hudz-Subaru team walked up and asked Tim to help him pin up his race numbers.

We got to talking about racing and traveling, and I offered Bryan the use of the tent and trainer to prepare for his race. He had flown over 1,300 miles to Pennsylvania from his home in Dallas, Texas with the goal of scoring a single UCI point. I wished him luck and took off to the start line for my race.

This was a great race for people who love thick mud, heavy bikes and slippery run-ups. When I wasn’t careening out of control on the slick off camber sections I was exchanging my bike for a fresh one. The combination of mud, grass and leaves wreaked havoc on everyone’s bike, sometimes building up enough to preventing the wheels from turning. My pit crew was able to keep up with my demand for fresh bikes and I took a bike every half lap.

After my race, Tim and I walked down the hill to pick up my 6th-place prize money. The Elite Men’s race had begun not long before. Along the way, we watched in disbelief as Bryan trudged dejectedly up the hill, bike on shoulder, rear derailleur swaying at an awkward angle behind him.

He hadn’t lasted but a few minutes in his race, and like many others, he’d become a victim of the mud: the rear derailleur hanger broke from the stress of trying to shift with ropes of grass twisted around it. We offered to help Bryan track down a new derailleur hanger so that he could race the next day, but upon returning to our car there was no sign of him.

While I warmed up on the trainer at Wissahickon on Sunday, the Magical, Disappearing Bryan appeared to say hello and to tell us his story. He’d quickly left Saturday’s race in an attempt to find a replacement derailleur hanger before shops closed for the night.

Fortunately, he convinced a shop to stay open late so that he could purchase a new hanger. Unfortunately, on receiving the new one, he noticed that the derailleur itself was mangled. Worse, the shop didn’t have any suitable replacements, so the owner spent some time bending the broken one back into working shape.

Armed with a replacement cable, Bryan drove back to his hotel only to find that the unthinkable had happened: the seat stay on his bike frame had cracked! Undaunted and undiscouraged, he mixed up some J-B Weld epoxy and fastened the frame back together. Mind you, all of this took place late at night after most competitors had retired for the day. At this point my mouth was hanging open listening to Bryan’s story. I was floored by his dedication to racing and his unwillingness to give up.

In the end, Bryan’s bike held up and he managed to fight his way from the back row into 13th place. He finished only three spots away from a UCI point. Having seen his dedication I’m sure he’ll be getting his UCI point soon!

Barbarella
www.barbarahowe.com

A whirlwind week

Published:

October 7, 2009, 06:18,

Updated:

October 7, 2009, 08:29

By:

Barb Howe

Mud, Driving, Vegas, Flights...

In the past seven days I've driven up and back to Seattle, flown back and forth to Las Vegas and raced three times. The cyclocross season on the West Coast starts with Star Crossed and the Rad Racing GP; both races are part of the NACT (North American Cyclocross Trophy).

Seattle is a long drive from Berkeley but after balancing the cost of flying, bike fees and rental car, driving was the less expensive option. Plus when you drive to a race you can bring all sorts of nice extras like spare wheels, spare tyres, a floor pump, a trainer, extra tools, a large assortment of clothing and lots of food.

I'm jealous of the East Coasters who drive to most races - in addition to all the good stuff they fit into their cars they also avoid the hassle of flying with bikes.

Part 1

This was my first Star Crossed and it will not be my last. Most of the women I talked with before the race were either on brand new, never-ridden, built-up-last-night bicycles or still waiting for their new bikes. I felt lucky that one of my Hakkalugi's had already been in two races.

The first big race of the year always produces extra nerves and jitters. Everyone is extra tense after "30 seconds to go" is called by the UCI official; we wait on edge for the gunshot. The gun cracks and off we go in a mad dash for the first few corners.

The course weaves in, out and around the velodrome, it's very flat and very fast. My heart was not ready for this kind of effort and as the race goes on I drift back. On the last lap I see large slide marks on the wet and muddy surface of the velodrome. Someone went down and I adjust my trajectory to avoid a similar fate.

By the time our race is over the rain has increased to a steady pour and I head back to the car to get out of my wet clothes. The men got to race in a magnificent downpour and a decreased co-efficient of friction. I watched from the velodrome infield, partially sheltered by the beer tent.

The men raced in torrents of rain, buoyed by the rowdy fans crowded in the infield and along the upper fence of the velodrome. I headed out before the race ended to beat the traffic and because I was afraid the car might get stuck in the muddy field.

Sunday was the complete opposite of Saturday; bright and warm with a well-drained course that was dusty in some areas and the infamous 80 metre "Knapp Time" run up. The general pre-race consensus was last night's race had everyone feeling creaky today.

Many racers were suffering from the first race of the season hangover. When the gun goes off the creakiness is replaced with cotton mouth which then turns to panting when we hit the giant sunbaked run up. The fifth time I tackle the run up I want to quit, my run loses it's bounce and turns into a walk. Sweat drips onto my glasses obscuring the puffs of dust turned up by my feet.

In just a few minutes the race will be over so I push onwards and upwards knowing that the long downhill will provide a small rest. I finish the day in fifth place, spend a brief moment on the podium then Tim and I pack the car and head south back to California.

Part 2

We were home for less than 24 hours before leaving for Las Vegas and the grand spectacle known as Interbike. Three years ago Cross Vegas was born - it's maturing nicely and has one of the deepest fields of any race in the US.

Between the elite men and the elite women there were close to 20 national and former national champions and two former world champions competing. As always the race was hard from the gun, the super dry desert air is very hard on the lungs and more than one racer suffered from breathing problems.

I'd like to thank the Luna Chix for providing sparkly gold Speedoed podium boys. Flesh is abundant in Las Vegas and is usually of the female variety bulging out of tiny shirts and tight skirts. The podium boys were a welcome change and a big hit with the ladies.

Like many elite racers at Interbike I put in my time thanking sponsors and chatting with industry folk... you never now what will come of connections made at a trade show.

The final leg of the journey almost never happened. Tim, myself and a buyer from a local shop almost missed our flight home because we couldn't get out of the casino. The three of us have spent numerous hours navigating mountainous regions on several continents without getting lost.

We were disoriented by the flowered carpets, blinking lights, vague signage, and maps that didn't make sense. It wasn't until after seeking the counsel of several casino workers that we finally found the elevators to the parking garage. We made the flight with a few minutes to spare after a long frantic airport "run-walk". This trip made home feel sweeter than ever.

Next up: The Cincinnati International Cyclocross Festival - three days of UCI racing and equal payouts.

Barbara Howe
www.barbarahowe.com

And so it begins...

Published:

September 25, 2009, 07:40,

Updated:

September 25, 2009, 07:41

By:

Barb Howe

When the light changes, it's 'cross time

The new bikes are built, the tubulars are glued, my legs are almost used to running and it's finally warm in the Bay Area... all of these things mean that it's finally cyclocross time!

I realise that the road and mountain bike seasons linger on and there's some big race in Switzerland but in my world the light has changed and it's time for skinny tyres on the dirt.

I'd like to introduce my new team: Vanderkitten (check out www.vanderkitten.com). A few years ago I wrote an article about them and since then they have branched from tee shirts into cycling clothing.

Dave, the owner, is committed to supporting women’s cycling and this year it includes myself, Shannon Holden and Haley Bean for cyclocross. We designed a great looking kit that compliments my new Ibis Hakkalügi bikes. Some of you may remember the old steel Hakkalügis, the new frames might have the same names but are completely different. They are all carbon (my first carbon cross frames!), super light and handle like a dream.

Two weeks ago was my last day of work; I quit my job (maybe not the smartest thing I’ve ever done) to devote extra time to racing this fall. I'm not getting any younger and with my track record of sickness and injury I figured this was a good year to give it everything I have.

The first race of the season serves as a painful reminder that training is not the same as racing. It also reminds me why I race 'cross - I enjoy catching up with friends and competitors each race and I like the pain of riding really hard.

My first race of the 'cross season was part of an eight race local series in Livermore, CA. I like the series because it's low key, close to my house and usually involves running up a long flight of bleacher steps.

The first race of the series was not in the horse arena, that area was filled with people on horses. Instead, the course was set on an area of deep grass connected to an area of loose gravel. At the start line there was a bit of confusion as to where exactly the first turn was located, this was discussed as we approached the first turn and was quickly sorted out from there.

A strong Norcal field started the race, including Sarah Kerlin, Ann Fitzsimmons, my teammate Haley and the newly-relocated Kerry Barnholt. My strategy was to go out in front and stay there as long as possible; it worked all the way through to the end of the race! Kerry flatted on the first lap, went to her car, fixed the flat and then jumped back into the race. Sarah, Ann and Haley finished in a three up sprint, with Sarah taking the honours.

A good start - hopefully a sign of things to come! In the meantime, check out my new website: www.barbarahowe.com .

Take care,
Barbarella

Four for Four and then one more

Published:

August 19, 2009, 03:43,

Updated:

August 19, 2009, 04:03

By:

Barb Howe

Kicking back with some sweet single track

My spring mountain biking schedule was based on the following criteria:

• The race must be within reasonable driving distance (no more than four hours)
• The race must have a high awesomeness quotient (lots of singletrack, good views, etc)
• The race must have a barbeque and beer afterwards

I found several races that fit the bill. The first one was put on by Bike Monkey at beautiful Lake Sonoma, featuring steep climbs, single track and the potential to get baked in the sun. There was no one in my category so I started with the men and rode around until they made me quit. My beer of choice after this race was a nice cold Fat Tire.

The second race, Big Sandy, was a bit of a drive but well worth it. I was lured to the hills beyond Fresno by 23 miles of single track and $100 to the fastest woman. Free camping sweetened the deal. The race celebrated the building of a bridge that connected two sections of single track. It wasn't an easy race to find; several hours past my bed time I missed the turn and it wasn't until many miles later that I realised my mistake.

The start of the race was several miles down a very twisty road into the heart of the San Joaquin River Gorge. All of the hours of driving were well worth it, though. The single track was amazing and the wildflowers were in full bloom. More than once I rode off the trail looking at the flowers. My choice of beer after this race was 1554 from New Belgium, a nice dark beer and very filling. A very nice sponsor upped the prize money for the fastest man and fastest woman (the promoter had equal payouts for both men and women) and I was able to drive home from this race a few dollars in the black.

The next race was one I had heard about for years from several people - the Shasta Lemurian Classic.

Once again it was a long drive but I car-pooled with Jordi and Aron and the long drive seemed short. Camping wasn't free but it was cheap and close to the start. This race was a good one; it starts with a long granny gear climb, moves onto a rather nasty rutted fire road descent before hitting the good single track. It was a long race, the second one of the year where I sported a hydration pack. One bottle cage for a race close to three hours is not enough water for me.

The most embarrassing moment of the race came when the strap of my hydration pack caught on my handlebar while remounting 'cross style after a hike-a-bike. The bike and I went down in a tangle but we both survived with only minor scrapes. I can't actually remember what beer I drank after this race other than it was a pale ale and it made my legs feel heavy. The drive home was a breeze; I fell asleep in the back seat of the truck nestled amongst the camping gear.

After the Lemurian it was time to stick closer to home. Even though I've ridden the trails hundreds of times, the annual race at Tam Rancho is one of my favourites. On a normal day at Tam Rancho I tend to err on the cautious side of speed - you never know when you'll come around a corner and be face to face with a hiker/dog/biker/runner/angry local. Race day is extra fun due to the reduced likelihood of head on collisions.

I took the lead on this one from the gun and worked very hard to stay ahead of my competitors. There was enough prize money on the line to pay for two new tyres for my car. The post race barbeque even had veggie burgers for those of us who don't partake of the flesh. Post race beers were at the soon-to-be-opened Gestalt House in Fairfax. I skipped the beer this time in favour of going to my favourite bike shop, A Bicycle Odyssey, in Sausalito, to buy some much-needed parts for my ridden-hard and neglected road bike.

And one more... Skyline Mountain Bike Race in Napa.

This is the same location and similar course as Single Speed World Championships 2008 and World Cups in the late '90s. This time my bike sported a vast array of gears and I didn't have to walk nearly as much! Mud mouth (when you are breathing hard through your mouth and there's so much dust that it turns to mud in your mouth and on your teeth) developed in the first few seconds of the race, the Pro/Expert ladies shared a hectic start with the Expert men.

I had a good battle with Sarah Maile for most of the race; she put the hurt on me on the granny gear climbs and I was able to gap her on the descents. On the last lap I got an impromptu feed from a kind gentleman in the feed zone. He gave me a bottle of soda, as a rule I don't drink soda but I was out of water and getting a bit hungry and the warm flat soda tasted really good. It also gave a good kick as halfway through the last lap I felt better and better and put a permanent gap on Sarah.

After the race we found out that it was the Norcal State Championship race, making me the new Northern California State Champion. No beer or barbeque after this race but there was a taco truck. Although much to my disappointment what I thought was a burrito was actually a salad wrapped in a tortilla. To make up for the lack of substantial food we stopped for ice cream after the race.

I'll be back with a rap of August's advantures once the month is done...

Barbarella

The big show

Published:

December 18, 2005, 00:00,

Updated:

April 22, 2009, 19:14

By:

Cycling News

Thursday: Fly to Boston on the early flight. Josh, Simon and I are at the airport eating bagels when...

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December 18, 2005

Thursday: Fly to Boston on the early flight. Josh, Simon and I are at the airport eating bagels when Melodie calls an hour before our flight. She slept through her alarm and is just leaving Berkeley. She makes it to the airport with enough time to eat an egg bagel sandwich. Lesson learned from this: Josh and I woke up and got to the airport way too early. After an uneventful flight, we arrive in a gelid Boston and commence the drive to Providence. Our host for the first night lives in a beautiful old house near downtown and even closer to a Whole Foods store. A few bags of groceries and several dollars later we have dinner and build up a few bikes.

Friday: The crazy weekend starts off with a pre-ride in pouring rain. The rain is like icing on the snow and is somehow grippier than the dirt. After a few laps my feet start to get cold and my rain pants are soaking through. Enough is enough, Josh and I get in the van, warm up and change out of our soggy clothes. While changing we notice the temperature drop from 36 to 31 degrees. The rain shifts to sleet, switches to hail and settles into a blustery blinding snowstorm. To make a long story short, the weather was horrific and several races were canceled when tents in the pits blew onto the course.

Down in the large expo/registration/awards tent, racers wandered around in hypothermic daze. Josh noticed on man trying to get his sopping wet clothing off near a heater. The man's hands were frozen and useless so Josh helped him get his shoes and socks off.

Upon noticing small white patches of skin on the man's feet, Josh said: "looks like you have a bit of frostbite on your feet." The man replied: "So that's what that is." Poor guy is going to have some sensitive feet.

California boy Simon, whose first experience with snow was at Gloucester, had bundled up, psyched up, and warmed up to race the 30-34 masters in the storm only to have his race canceled. So we cleaned up, packed up and headed out. The 20-minute drive took closer to two hours, the rental mini-van handled the snow with great aplomb and we didn't slide out or get stuck once!

Saturday: Simon's second chance race and Mel's destruction of her collegiate competitors were earlier than Josh's race and earlier than I wanted to wake up. So they left early for extra time in the snow while Josh and I sat around and worked up some motivation. Simon finished fifth in his masters race but due to the rescheduling had very little time to recover before the elite race. He also lost his elite number and ended up pitting instead of racing. Mel and I left before Josh's race started so we wouldn't spend seven hours standing around in the cold.

My parents are the true heroes of the weekend. They drove up in a snowstorm from Pennsylvannia in their van loaded with cookies, hot chocolate, e-z-ups, and other important race support items. My mother created pink, blue and black streamers for our tent while my Dad brewed hot chocolate to keep us warm. They made it through Friday's storm without getting blown away. My mom acted as tent anchor and bike holder until we took everything apart so it didn't fly off.

They provided pizza for hungry racers and Santa stockings stuffed with goodies for Josh and me. Alex, our manager, was another hero of the weekend. He woke up earlier and stayed up later then anyone else. He was always around ready to clean a bike, take clothes at the start, give clothes back at the finish, and drive someone around in the snow.

Sunday: Finally, after an eternity in this strange snowy place, race time has arrived. The course has deteriorated throughout the course of the weekend. It is now an amalgamation of snow, ice, mud and deep puddles. My start as always wasn't great but I did manage to avoid being tangled in the first lap crashes. I missed it again this year; somewhere on the starting straight; Katie rode past all of us and took off on the mud, never to be seen again.

Ann and Mo were also ahead of me when I made contact with Rhonda and Melissa. The mud proved to be too much for me; Rhonda and Melissa out handled me and made off with the podium spots. I hit a tree near the pit but was able to get my arms up at the last moment and officially became a tree hugger. On the last lap I tripped over one of the wood steps and took a seat to the head. Georgia and I got to ride around together for a bit, she showed me how to ride a few sections. Armed with that knowledge I was able to maintain a small gap on her and finished sixth. This is a bit of a disappointment as I was hoping to podium, but I didn't get seriously injured and my bikes didn't break either.

The best part of nationals is always the aftermath. The race is the formality that comes before the party. For so many racers, it's the end of the season and time to break loose. Velo Bella celebrated with a team dinner including followers, parents, and hosts. Then it was only five blocks to the after-party held in a neat little club.

Upon entering we were greeted by a band wearing tri singlets and putting out serious noise. The party was sponsored by Harpoon brewing and all good cyclists like to make the most of a sponsorship no matter how fleeting.

Monday: The flight that lasted an eternity ended with a few famished bike racers eating in one of their favorite spots in San Francisco. It was good to be home and my whiplash headache was beginning to fade. This week I get to rest and relax before some heavy training to prepare for the world championships in the Netherlands.

My mother brought all sorts of great Christmas cookies for us to eat. She bakes up a storm each year for the family Christmas celebration. Since I've been home only once in the past seven years for Christmas and I've taken it upon myself to share the love and feed everyone around me my favorite cookies. This particular cookie has a very unique flavor and my mother loves to make them because she can turn the heat up in the house to help them rise. These cookies can be touchy to make, if the room isn't warm enough then they don't turn out right.

Anise Cookies

1 3/4 cup sifted flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
3 eggs
1 cup + 2T sugar
1T anise seeds

Beat eggs and sugar for 30 minutes. Add flour and baking powder, beat 3 minutes. Add anise seed and blend quickly. Drop 2tsp blobs onto greased floured cooking sheet. Let set overnight in a warm room. Bake at 325 for 10-12 minutes.

Barb