Situation Gets Rough Then I Start To Panic.

Of course, there are also a few convincing reasons why I don't have Chronic Fatigue, the first and foremost of which are that when I don't train for a few days, I'm back to my normal levels of energy. Wikipedia diagnosis only gets you so far, you know.

Chiropractors, however, don't even seem to believe in Chronic Fatigue, which I guess is part of the reason I finally agreed to go see one. Purely by coincdence I ended up working with the mother of another cyclist who had been burdened by mystery illnesses. That mother suggested I go see Dr Vic. So I did. I took the morning off yesterday and drove all the way over to Keilor, only to walk into his office and be confronted by a picture of Brunswick's own Stuey Grimsey, and a bunch of his mates. Seems Dr Vic isn't confined to just the odd cyclist, but rather that he works with Drapac pretty regularly - I was even introduced to him by his receptionist as "He's a cyclist, but not from Drapac." Which kinda twisted the knife, just a little.

He poked and prodded me, I squirmed and giggled, and after half an hour or so he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and said, in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone, "It seems like a nervous system problem. It shouldn't be too complicated. We should be able to sort it out pretty easily."

Which, as you could probably imagine, was pretty good to hear.

Now, I'm a pretty cynical individual at the best of times, and I'm not entirely certain that a few adjustments of my spine is going to fix this fatigue problem forever. But I am willing to entertain the idea that it might. And that alone is enough to give me some hope.

This'll Never End This'll Never Ever End This'll Never Stop.

The fatigue has reared its ugly head again. I've got a couple more appointments with specialists lined up. I'm starting to think it's Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, which is a fun way of saying Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

If one of these specialists tells me that it is Chronic Fatigue, well, that will be the end of competitive cycling for me. I know that sounds a bit sad and all, but really, I'm not that sad about it. At the moment all I want is a definitive answer. If they tell me that it's something that can be solved with a course of antibiotics and a couple of weeks off work, I'll do that, then get back on the bike. If they tell me I need an operation, I'll do that, then get back on the bike. But if they tell me that it's a debilitating illness from which there is no recovery, well, I'll just have to do something else. That's ok, you know. I've got lots of plans and ideas that I've been holding off on because of cycling, and if I have an illness that forces me out of racing for good, well, I'll just start on them a little earlier.

Like The Boss says, "You get used to anything. Sooner or later it just becomes your life."

This Is A Story You Won't Tell The Kids We'll Never Have.

After so long off cycling, I'm kinda surprised to come back and discover some things haven't changed at all. St Kilda crits, while they seem much safer, smoother, and altogether better than last year, are still riven with teams racing and shenanigans, and - perhaps more importantly - are still really, really hard. That shouldn't be too much of a surprise, I guess. A bigger surprise occurred at the state omnium champs, which I swung by on my way to pick up Casey from work. A year had gone by and I thought that Brent Nelson may have moved on to bigger and better things, but it seems after a lighter year on the bike he's keen to take the smaller steps back to greatness. He did this by winning each event, and doing a 10.8 flying 200. That's freaking fast, especially given he's not a sprinter. So yep, surprised to see that nothing has changed there. And all of a sudden a little more nervous about the State Points Race Championships in a couple of weeks.

Just Like A River.

I got some bad news the other day. My brother is getting married. Which isn't bad news in itself, I guess - his fiancee is pretty rad, and I suppose it's nice for them to have the ceremony and all of that jazz. The bad news was the date. March 11. Labour day long weekend. Or, as I like to think of it, Madison weekend.

Ever since I got sick and realized I probably wouldn't be firing on all cylinders by the Christmas Carnivals, I'd been thinking about the Bendigo Madison. I knew that I wouldn't be able to win the damn thing, but I also knew that every year they invite a bunch of locals and other likely suspects to ride it. And I figured I could be one of those blokes. So I set it as my target and asked my coach to build me up to it.

So perhaps you won't be so incredulous when I tell you I asked my brother to consider changing the date. He said no, telling me to wait til next year (and also suggesting I could probably do with the extra 12 months training, indicating that the competitive spirit that drove us both through our childhood years still exists). I then asked my parents to ask him, but they wouldn't, probably because they realized - a good hour before I did - that I was probably a little out of line.

My old man, however, loves a good metaphor, and asked me if, now that I've been forced to miss the Olympics, I could instead aim for the World Championships. I like metaphors too, so I got to thinking. The Austral is the week after the Madison, but I've never been too stoked on the Austral, so didn't want to consider it. However, if the tradition continues, the last race of the evening will be the Victorian 15k Scratch Race Championships - the race I wrote about here. Given the standard of the folks who turn out for the Austral Carnival I probably won't win it, but this year I'd like to finish in the bunch, and at least give some future Olympians a good run for their money.

So consider me refocused. My brother's nuptials may be a blessing in disguise.

Saw Her Standing On Her Front Lawn.

Last night I couldn't sleep because I had too much energy. This morning I got up and did an ergo session in the end room. Tonight I raced at the track. I'm pretty tired. In fact, I'm really tired. But I'm not fatigued. There's a big difference, and right now that difference means the fucking world to me. I didn't win any races tonight, not a single one. But hot damn I'm feeling good.

Pants Of Denim.

I was laying in bed yesterday morning, using a popular online encyclopaedia to come up with new and entertaining theories about why my body continues to let me down, when a text came through from Ollie, asking if I was racing Coburg. Against all better judgement, and the advice of Wikipedia, I said yes. We met up at Bell Street and rolled up Sydney Road to National Boulevard. Half an hour later we were racing, and I was feeling alright. I didn't contest the sprint, but was happy just to have stayed at the front for the whole time.

Things were looking up, so I decided to back up the morning's racing with some track in the afternoon. The first Evening Enduro was starting at 2 (irony!), so I shoveled in some food and headed down to the Harrison Street Velodrome. I wasn't the freshest of daisies, but still managed to bring home some silverware, and - more importantly - team Bundy managed to snare the top two steps on the podium in two out of the three events. That's a solid victory for Columbus Max, Peter Bundy's framebuilding prowess and anti-carbon Luddites everywhere.

Walking!

Also, you should download this, and only keep the Tight Bros From Way Back side. Apparently the guy who organized these records ripped a whole bunch of people off, so you shouldn't feel too bad about downloading it instead of buying it. The song is a contender for best cover ever, and also best song to play when you're leaving the house on your way to a party.

The Big Time, Baby.

I've had my ranty pants on quite a bit lately, but for some reason I've woken up in a decent mood, and as such will spare you the vein-popping details. Instead I'll write about my new track bike. I've only ridden it up and down my street so far, so this won't be a particularly well informed review. Mostly it'll be about my new bike angst.

My former bike - a Teschner Track Pro - didn't ever fit me quite right. It was a 57cm square, and I really need a 58 or even a 59. It also, like most modern track bikes, had a really short head tube, which meant that I needed a stack of spacers and a stem with a heap of rise. This in turn meant more flex through the stem. So I went looking for a bigger track bike with a bit more head tube. Eventually I settled on one of these and started saving.

I'm a notoriously bad saver, however, and it took a fair bit of time. In that time Sean the Man got in my ear, suggesting that the Pinarello wasn't so great, and that instead I should think outside the square. Better to get a bike that fits you, rather than get you to fit a bike, he reckoned.
"Plus," he continued, "Pete Bundy has just got in some Columbus Max."
"Steel?" I replied, "I'm sorry, did I fall asleep and wake up in the 90s?"
"Nah, listen. When BT first started making their bikes, their #1 specification was that they be as stiff as a bike made with Max. And Max isn't that heavy. Besides, weight doesn't matter so much on the track. You ever lifted a BT? They're fucking heavy."

I knew he was right. So I spoke to Pete, who told me he could make a bike a stiff as my Teschner, if not stiffer, and as a bonus it would fit me better. I was convinced, and put some money down.

A good two months later the bike arrived at the office. Carrying over to my car I was surprised by how light the box felt. Arriving home and unpacking the frame this surprise didn't fade - it was a lot lighter than I expected. The colour, which Dan Shifter later referred to as "Australian Flag" blue, fairly popped out of the box. It looked hot, and it felt hot.

Dan built it up for me, made it work. I was supposed to have track training at Coburg yesterday, and thus have a chance to ride around on it before racing, but the rolled in and cancelled the session. I haven't taken it out yet, and so my concerns about having a steel frame are yet to be put to rest. It is stiff, sure - true to his word, Pete probably has made it stiffer than the Teschner. But is it going to be as fast? Surely a fast track bike is stiff, light and aerodynamic - the Bundy scores a 5/5 for stiff, but what about light and aerodynamic? Furthermore, I'm not as fit right now as I was this time last season - am I going to blame my shitty performances on the bike? How will I know if it's the bike or me?

Of course, I can only really answer these questions by getting out and riding on the bloody thing, which I'll do on Tuesday night. Until then it'll just sit in the end room, asking questions.

Sleepwalking.

Facebook has just informed me that racing in Bendigo has started early this year, in the light of coming repairs to their track. This is most excellent news indeed. I'm a big fan of racing in Bendigo, for a number of reasons. First of all, the track is really big - 412 metres, I'm unreliably informed. This lends itself to harder racing, a leaning that is pushed further by the locals, who are reliably strong and capable cyclists. With little banking and some resistance in the track surface, it's a track suited to endurance track riders, especially when the wind is up.

Furthermore, there's the crowd. That's right, a crowd. At Bendigo on a Thursday night people go to watch track racing - people who don't even know the racers! That's unheard of down here, where entertainment options are plentiful. Throw in a coffee cart and occasionally a baked potato van and you're sorted for atmosphere.

But there's something more to it. I don't know if it's because I'm a bit country myself, but it's pretty satisfying to be out there in the open, the coolness of the evening coming in after a long day's heat, riding your bike and talking shit with the other blokes, sticking around for the presentations afterwards, then that long drive home, the car stinking of sweat and bikes and tired. Yep. It's a good feeling.

We Can Live Much Better Than This.

My former coach used to say that when you took some time off the bike, it takes about twice as much time to come back to your former fitness. This sets me up to be in some good form at around the time I'm aiming for, but that knowledge doesn't make the journey any easier. Man, bike racing is hard! I reckon last night at DISC I DNFed my first club race. It wasn't pretty, but it was exactly the fast, constant racing that I need in order to get fit again. I was stoked, but I was broken, which is kind of a weird combination, if you think about it too much. Fortunately I don't.

No, You Can't Have It Back, Silly Rabbit!

Since I quit the cyclocross it has been sunny. While part of me is certain the two are not related, part of me is convinced that my decisions have the ability to change the weather, the turning of the globe, and the universe in general. I've also been training my ass off, and I gotta say, it's feeling pretty damn good. This afternoon the schedule was kinda fun - 2 hours at easy pace, but including two sets of five 150 meter sprints. James and I went out through Epping, but quickly got bored, and ended up sprinting on gravel roads, up and down ridiculously steep hills, in the midst of dubious traffic. Getting fitter again after so long off the bike is generally pretty hard work, but tonight it was pretty damn fun to boot.

Quitters Never Win.

Like I said here, I needed to make a decision about how I was going to spend my time next year. So I did. I quit the DDCX organizing committee. And it felt damn good. Immediately I felt more relaxed, less burdened, and like I had more time. And, while we're being honest, I gotta say, lately I've felt about as emotionally attached to cyclocross as I do to Kunstradfahren, so the decision to leave hasn't been too painful.

Nath said to me a while back, as I progressed through the cycling ranks, that at some point it's going to get a whole lot less fun. This hasn't exactly happened - I had more fun racing last Tuesday night than I've ever had before, I reckon - but I am definitely doing less other fun stuff outside cycling. If there is a balance there, if less non-cycling fun means more cycling fun, I'm not sure. But I got about three more years of this in me, and I'm itching to see how much further I can go.

Get Behind The Mule In The Morning And Plow.

I'll probably have to train next Saturday morning, or maybe even race. I'm still waiting on my program for next month, and I'm not exactly sure of what I'll be doing. But afterwards I'll definitely be heading down to this. I'm no fan of protests, but sometimes you adding your voice to the choir is more important than the choice of song. The important thing is that people are singing. Follow me? Good. I'll see you down there.

Rise Above! Rise Above!

"Rest," they say, but fucking hell, it ain't easy. It's the last day of the holidays and I'm bored bored bored. I know it's important to rest the legs and all that, but I can think of nothing more I want to do right now than go for a long, easy bike ride. I suppose this is a good sign, but right now, it's driving me crazy.

Moral ABCs.

In light of the sunny weather and marked increase in bicycle traffic, perhaps now is a good time to re-direct your attention to this post. Just sayin', folks.