Wholistic Fitness

HOW (not) TO MAKE FRIENDS IN YOUR NEW TOWN…
Coach Pisses Off The Yellow Jersey,
Finishes first on his new team…
and finishes in the Top 15 Overall…

are you SURE you wanna piece of ‘dis shit!??

i’ve absorbed a fair bit of Trash Talkin’ capacities over the course of my life…

and it might come as a surprise to you that your ol’ coach knows a thing or two about drivin’ to the paint and kickin’ out to the tres players, baby! c’mon…think you can take me…i know you want to…i know you would LOVE to put the hurt on me…yet, it ain’t gonna happen, baby…shit, i will put the Shiva Ram into your Rama Dass ass and spin you around so fast you’ll be cryin’ to yor lil ol’ mammatime…you KNOW dat shit to be true!…hundreds have tried to take me…sorry…friend o mine..just mind yo shit and take yo sorry lame ass to the back o the line…cuz when it come to talkin’ shit and livin’ dat shit in yo face?

yo is talkin’ to da KING, baby!!!!!!

i will take you down in my Tevas and with Mula Bandha engaged, baby!

read on if you dare about how i bitch slapped the Yellow Jersey Team with Bhagavad freakin Gita Namaste HIGH PERFORMANCE YOGA CHI, and
survived to write my Noble Tribe about it…
hey,
someone has to play Shiva and Be Brave enough to go down while fighting against Goliath…
so,
i figger,
it better be a WF Warrior, baby!

Go ahead, Yoga Teachers…talk all you want you about Divine Currents, Instant Joy, Blessed
Happiness, Sacred Spirals, blah, blah, blah…
yet, when push comes to shove,
when the intensity of Anger Arising
and you KNOW it does,
even if it Arises within cancer, divorce, fat, drugs, impatience, or…
worse,
if you let it go until the Death Moment…
then,
you will recall a humble Warrior Path of Wholistic Fitness® and HP Yoga® that
embraces Anger as a Human Condition and thus uses the INTENSITY OF RACING, OF
CARDIO TRAINING, OF STRENGTH TRAINING, OF INTERVALS, OF MULTI-DISCIPLINED YOGA
to dilute our judgments, opinions, beliefs, gossips, and negative/lazy tendencies…

until you take out your Racing License…
i have a question…
are you REALLY a member of the Human RACE?

here then,
is the conclusion of my recent race…
just a little race
in a little known land
as a BIG WAY to express
what is happening in my Heart…
thus,
it is not a race report that i Gift you tonight…
it is my
Heart…
and i feel honored
and lucky
to share this yoga with you…

thus in Hanuman Spirit…
the vast, mysterious being…defies category…
the Son of the Wind God…
the Symbol of Selfless, Inexhaustible Intense Devotional Service to God,
Hanuman is the most Ferocious Warrior,
Hanuman is the Enemy of the Demons of Ignorance and Ego
the Connector to the Infinite,
the Breath of Ram..
the Life Force of the Cosmic Energy…

thus,
with Hanuman Spirit,
i Gift you my conclusion of THE SUMMIT CENTER Stage Race…

thank you for reading…and please put my Sweat to Go(o)d Use in your OWN Practice!

Namaste,
coach ilg

***

SCENE: Approaching Turn Around; mile 28.5 fast downhill

Two racers had attacked the Lead Group on the fast downhill leading to the Turn Around, a simple, neon orange pylon in the middle of the high forest road.

Sensing that Ian was gonna launch his Suicide Breakaway, i moved into the lead going into the Turn Around which was on a downhill for some crazy reason. The two other racers that had flown the coop just moments earlier were charging up the road next to us as we came soaring into the Turn Arround at over 28 mph…just then, the Lead Motorcycle which was on my left shoulder swerved directly into my path! Something from the bikes of one of the breakaway racers had come off and was bouncing erratically across the road toward the motorcycle, causing the moto to veer into…well, guess what? dat’s right.. me! i locked up my rear wheel, kept the brakes off my front thank God, and waited to hear the thud of the racers behind me start hitting me as i instantly steered off the rear wheel of the motorcycle…

the thud never came, and i thanked my neural fitness for the narrow escape…this is why i Practice Yoga…calm reflexes in the face of danger. i instantly used the confusion to my advantage and accelerated around the Turn Around as the rest of the peleton was braking and wondering what the fuck had happened… i put my head down, hammered up the hill and praying that Ian had missed the moto and was on my back wheel for a lead out for his solo breakaway…

he was, and he did!!!!!!

halfway up the hill, i was spent and thank Lord Hanuman that young, brave Ian had read the fast flying energy of the moment and came around me hard and out of the saddle and flew up the hill before Summit Center knew what hit them!

i immediately moved into the first position and began attempting to thwart counter attacks…and boy did the counter attacks start coming! Red Rock Racing, represented by myself and Ian, had stirred up a Bees Hive and the Worker Bees, protecting the Yellow Jersey were STINGING MAD!

It was left to me alone to counter the entire peleton’s response to Ian flying solo up the road. If anyone from any team DID manage to get away from our peleton and move up to Ian who was already nearly 1:00 up the road…then, i would need to be there to ‘police’ them if they did bridge to Ian, i could then counter attack and/or protect Ian’s diminishing energy reserves.

So, every time a racer took off, i had to stick like Velcro� to his back wheel…it was hellish, exhausting anaerobic/aerobic work…each time another Attack went off or when Summit Center pressured the pace up to HIGH, i had to Be Here Now regardless of pain in order to Be There for Ian’s backup. Thus was the agony of my Practice for 3 miles of rollers. “Rollers” are ‘big chainring hills’…rolling hills often not longer than 600 meters that you can charge like a bull up and down in your largest chainring. After most of the attacks from riders other then started to subside after 3 miles, i found myself pretty much alone with the Yellow Jersey and his Henchmen.

And i had to do everything within the USCF Rules to thwart their efforts to bridge the gap to my Teammate, Ian.

So, i called upon Hanuman Spirit…
i became Summit Center’s worst Bug In Their Saddles…
i would feign an Attack…cause them to chase me for a moment, then sit up and SLOOOOOOOW the entire peleton down…

“NUMBER 417…” gasped the Yellow Jerseys main Lieutenant, Scott, “you do NOT WANT TO FUCK WITH ME! STOP INTERFERING WITH THE LEADING TEAM’s EFFORT to catch the breakaway…DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!?!??!!!”

“Why, Namaste!” i replied smiling and took off on another attack causing him to chase me down before i sat up again, causing yet another icelandic slowing of the peleton thus buying a few more seconds for my Teammate up the road, solo, into the wind… after a few more times of me playing this Zoom Stop Technique, Scott became rather animated and verbose in his response to my tactics, “NUMBER 417…” gasp, gasp, heave, heave…”I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T STOP FUCKING WITH THE LEADER JERSEY’S TEAM…you have been WARNED FORMALLY THREE TIMES!”

i made a deeply conscious attempt to show Henchmen Scott that i was not breathing hard at all at a Heart Rate of 190 and thus spoke like an accountant in an air conditioned office to him,
“You know…” i spoke very slowly and (i thought) sagely, “when i was your age?…we called this, ‘bicycle racing,’ are you familiar with this sport?”

Long pause as the whirring mass of racers tickled my Kundalini Princess from behind…

“YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED THREE TIMES, the next one goes to the OFFICIAL!” said Scott…which, i must admit, was a great way of handing the situation for his Leader.

“Namaste!” i replied and took my position promptly at less then 3 inches from his back tire with the Yellow Jersey right behind me.

***

SCENE: approaching 8 miles from the Finish Line

Jeremy had popped long ago.

Our Team, which began two days earlier with five of us, was now down to three.

Aaron was barely hanging onto the peleton and in his game struggle there was great inner bravery. it ain’t an easy sport. i rolled back toward Aaron to cheer and coach him among the chaos of 40+ hurting men traveling on less than 1/4″ of tire rubber, handlebar to handlebar on rolling terrain on poor road surfaces at a 22 mph average; “Aaron, listen to me, bro…you GOTTA get up to the front of the pack and SLOW THEIR EFFORTS TO CATCH IAN, okay? They are about reading to cap my ass if i do anymore stalling tactics…now, i need you to stay up with the front guys, bro…no matter how hard it hurts, okay?”

Aaron looked at me quizzically. i don’t know if he really understood through the haze and daze of his hurting that i was his Teammate. Bike racing is kinda like High Altitude Mountaineering sometimes; there arrives a point where the Hurt is So Great that, well, shit…you just cease functioning and recognizing things and people as you ‘normally’ do.

Spittle from several miles earlier had formed an icy looking veneer around Aaron’s mouth. He tried to answer me when some snot dribbled into his mouth, nearly choking him.

I left him to his own suffering and rode back toward the front of the whirring wheels and racing heartbeats. It’s a hard sport.

i had learned by now, that a bike racer – if he or she was to actually race and not just survive, one had to stay within the top ten or twelve guys. any further behind than that? you cannot telegraph when the next attack or acceleration happens and enormous amounts of precious energy are spent by ‘yoyo’ing’ – letting little gaps grow between your front tire and the back tire of the guy in front of you. Trapped in this yoyo Hell Realm, you are forced into dozens of little sprints to latch back onto this moving city of speed. It is always soooooo easy to just give up. Always sprinting just to catch back up crushes racing enthusiasm. “Survivor” mode kicks in and thoughts of the podium wither away commensurate to your energy. Attaining the ftness and bike skills to get into and stay in the top ten guys often requires years of frustration, accidents, mistakes, and falling off the pace. Gaining speed is slow learning curve for most of us.

***

SCENE: The Peleton Finally Catches Ian

At about 8 miles from the finish line, Summit Center leading the peleton for the Yellow Jersey, Peter, had finally caught our Beloved 18-year old Ian. I swear to Lord Hanuman that i fell in love with Ian over those miles when i could no longer slow the speed of his capture. i kept seeing him, hovering in front of our speeding city of wheels, about 40 seconds ahead..head down, skinny little boy body compressed against the growing, blowing wind…all alone in his own world of unimaginable hurt. Ian kept that entire huge Summit Center Team chasing his high school butt for nearly 45 minutes! Ian will do just fine in the Bardo…this i Know to be true.

As our Peleton caught Ian i was in the top five guys, watching like a wolf for a counter attack once we caught Ian. In Road Bike Racing, it is common that once a breakaway is captured, a racer will counterattack immediately, since they know the chasing Team that has done most of the work is tired. no counter attack came however. Summit Center had kept the pace way too high; 26 mph. this pace discourages mightily any thoughts of going it alone by glory seekers; could YOU pedal YOUR bike alone at 30 mph for 7 miles to stay away from an angry pack of racers? Probably not. i know i could not, so i tucked my Pride inside and hung on to the leaders, awaiting the final doom of the 1.5 mile uphill climb…maybe just maybe i could do something special on that climb…

As the peleton caught Ian, i slapped him on his skinny butt; “Great job, bro…i did what i could.”

i did not see Ian again until he somehow,
someway,
actually recovered
and attacked AGAIN on the final uphill climb…
he finished ahead of me by a few seconds…
we were both behind the Yellow Jersey by about 30 seconds at the finish.
at the bottom of the 1.5 mile climb, the Summit Center’s domestiques just pulled up,
and nearly collapsed in fatigue, having successfully delivered their Leader to the bottom of the final hill. Each one of them sold their souls and their results for their Leader, Peter Traylor.

dat,
my friends,
is bike racing.

fucking Noble, baby.

“Hey Pete…” i rolled by the Yellow Jersey at the top of the climb after the finish…

He nodded to me..

“Congratulations, bro…you better buy your teammates a nice cold one today…they fucking did GREAT!”

Peter was peeing, “Yeah bro, i know…they are like my rolling team of bodyguards.”

“See you next Saturday on the club ride,” i said as i rolled onward to meet with Ian, Aaron, and Jeremy…each of whom had finished and were smiling.

“Guys,” i said, “Each one of you should go home super happy today…the last three days have been fantastic training for us as a new Team and i can’t wait to race with you again. Ian, you in particular…i bow, baby! Well done!”

A little later, Scott, the main Bodyguard of the Yellow Jersey with whom i had shared words with out on the roads rolled up to me atop the hill climb summit…i began looking around for a tree to hide behind…

“Number 417!!!!!” He shouted in front of a growing mass of utterly fatigued racers replicating atop the hill…

i nodded to him.

“Number 417! yeah you! hey, man, GREAT RACE…dude, i hope i wasn’t out of place back there on the roads…i was just doing my job, man!”

i smiled, thankful that the young strapping lad had chosen NOT to take a 2″ x 4″ across my face, “Bro, dude man…you handled me PERFECTLY! you tolerated my antics for a while, then threatened official reporting…that is precisely what you should have done! you and your Team and Pete did a FANTASTIC race over the last few days…you guys should go home very happy, man!”

“Yeah, cool…man, you were fit out there…”

“Thanks, but don’t worry, next year i will be racing 45+ and so i will leave you young guns alone,” i said.

“Dude! you are 44?” he said it in a way that seeped incomprehensibility.

“Yeah man, and you should come to my High Performance Yoga® classes on Wednesday nights so i can pay back some of that trash talkin’ you were giving your Elder out there..”

By now, a small crowd had gathered and laughter rang through the mountain air…

“Yeah right,” said Scott, “you’d totally kick my ass once you saw how inflexible I am!”

I chose to smile, bow to him, and let his comment linger like a hummingbird’s dance upon an alpine flower and rode with my teammates down the hill toward the beginning of another end….

***

COACH’S RESULTS in his first High Altitude Cycling Stage Race returning to the mountains from LA:

May 27-29, 2006:
Summit Center Stage Race (bicycle stage race)
Flagstaff, AZ
http://www.azcycling.com

Result:
Prologue: Mars Hill Prologue = 16th place 2 minutes, 09 seconds
Stage 1; Perkinsville Road Race = 17th pace 2:17:24
Stage 2; NAU Criterium = 16th place 33:08
Stage 3; Lake Mary Road Race = 29th place 2:30:12
Final GC Result: = 14th place 5 hours, 22 minutes, 53 seconds. (+13.2 winning time)

Coach’s next race is June 4th in Albuquerque, New Mexico when he takes on the young ones again in a 57 mile, 6,800′ climbing slugfest to the top of Sandia Peak, 10,650′

Stay tuned to DL for more Race Reports that are certain to be…if not a slam dunk…
it will surely be filled with Dharma Points…

from the MultiDisciplined Mountain Yogi
the
Coach that still DOES…

coach ilg