In the (Feed)Zone
w/Mark Swartzendruber

LIFE

Many things are to be enjoyed in the sport of cycling. However, two things with respect to the sport of cycling stand out to me as being on the whole, distasteful. Tan lines for one and people who wear sunglasses on their foreheads as the other. Precious little can be done by me to change the latter, but the former I've found can be handled with a trip to warmer climes sans bicycle clothing.

Lovely Kathy and I traditionally embark on a spring trip to the sun in early March. However with work once again infringing on our inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness we got a late start on our early spring hiatus. What with having taken a trip to California and South Carolina in February and March and then the sun actually shown during a race in Illinois, I was in full on Fred tan glory. My tan lines were firmly in place.

Lovely Kathy and I arrived in Mazatlan, Mexico on April 11. On April 12 after a day full of sun, reading and a bit of tequila mixed with lime flavored sugar water I decided food would be a good idea. I went into the hotel to make a reservation for one of the resort's ala carte restaurants. Upon securing the reservation I returned to the pool to find Lovely Kathy looking quite concerned and standing behind her pool lounger.

"What's up?"

"I saw a man go underwater by the diving rocks and I haven't seen him come up."

"He's swimming underwater? Did he hit his hear?"

"I don't know …I saw him go under by the side of the pool and I think he's still down there."

"Run and go tell the staff!" No sooner had I spoken than Kathy bolted to the activity center. She came back seconds later with a staff person. Kathy pointed to the water and I saw a shadow, not moving under the water across the pool in the deep end. The staff girl didn't seem to grasp the situation. "Someone help!" Kathy was screaming "There is someone on the bottom that needs help!" Four or five people were in the pool bobbing and playing right above where it appeared the man was. No response at all. They in fact, seemed to swim away when they realized something was amiss. By that time I had my clothes off and was in the water. Kathy was in before me scrambling toward the spot where she saw the man go down. I dove down and pulled the motionless man off the bottom of the diving well. He was on his back, under 8 feet of water. I hooked my arm across his chest and under his arms and swam to the top and started across the pool. A hotel security guard was in the water and helped me get the guy to the side. Lovely Kathy began chest compressions.

I once watched Baywatch on TV. On the episode I saw David Hasselhof pulled a drowning chick out of the ocean, blew a couple of breaths into her mouth and all was good. She smiled and everyone was relieved. Real life doesn't look like this. The guy's lungs were full of pool water and vomit. He regurgitated with every compression and breath that was forced into him. One hotel guest was an MD, an other an EMT and an other, a nurse. They took over and for 45 minutes attempted to bring this poor kid back to life. He was gone.

He was under water for a minute…maybe a few seconds more, maybe a few seconds less. The hotel concierge told us he was a resort guest, 24 years old on his honeymoon. It was all too horrific. I cannot lapse into soliloquy. Apply any lessons you can draw.

LENNY KRAVITZ: ARE YOU GONNA GO MY WAY?

The Hillsboro Roubaix road race has been chronicled and it is well known as a favorite stop in the Midwest. It's tough. It's as close as any of us flailers will come to racing Het Volk or Ghent Wevelgem.

After returning from South Carolina, I stepped fully into the endeavor of starting my own financial services firm. I have been in the same setting for 15 years and it has afforded me a decent lifestyle and plenty of time to ride a bicycle. This all changed on April 3rd. The week before the Hillsboro race I was able to sneak a couple of one hour rides in. I thought maybe I'd be "fresh" if nothing else. Besides, it was a masters race. How hard can it be? The 35+ masters stepped to the line. The sMACKs were well represented, numbering approximately half the field. HeadsMACK finagled his way from the 45+ field into the 35+ field just before the start. We rode the first 22 mile lap with the group intact and no real action except for one lung busting effort that threatened to break up the group but didn't. Rather than feeling "fresh", I was feeling the effects of very little time on the bike.

Toward the end of lap one, the pace wound up over a couple of good hills and down through Hillsboro for a mile of brick pavement. Being the big classics specialist that I am, I used the rough ride to drop the hammer. The group split. As we rode off the bricks and through the asphalt paved start/finish area at the end of the lap, Flick-n-sMACK rode hard tempo at 30 per in the cross headwind and the pack was whittled down to about a dozen. It was all I could do to find a wheel to suck. At that point Lenny Kravitz - who has been on good form since taking a sabbatical from his work teaching young people to think deep thoughts at an upscale private University in Bloomington, IL - began to force the issue. We had a pretty good group formed, Araoogy, Big Shark Henderson from Columbia, MO, s'moresMACK, McGsMACK, Flick-n-sMACK, and Brian Constant. All were taking turns in the rotation pulling out of sight from the lickspittles with the exception of the sMACKs. I pulled back to ask McGsMACK what the deal was. "HeadsMACK is bridging". HeadsMACK began the 80 degree day fully tighted and in admittedly poor form. On the first warm and sunny Illinois day since October 2004, he was at serious risk of dehydration before we began to race and it was seriously dubious to suggest that he would be bridging solo to a twelve rider break that was humming on all cylinders. I looked at McGsMACK in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

Over the next hill, I attacked to make sure that any fodder would be shucked and any plans of HeadsMACK bridging would be laid waste. It worked. The attacks continued over the next couple of hills and a few miles of gravel strewn roads and the break whittled down to 6. s'moresMACK developed a case of cramps and dropped off with another rider and the final break became 4. It was workable. Lenny Kravitz proved to be unshakable, McGsMACK gave token efforts and Constant who promised not to contest the finish with 40 miles yet to ride, put everything he had into the move, cramping every time he rolled to the front. Coming into town over the mile long 2 step headwind climb, Lenny Kravitz decided he'd had enough fun with us flailers and exploded up the first slopes of the hill. My initial thought that was that 2 miles from the finish was a bit early to start a sprint. Constant turned into a massive cramp, McGsMACK rode away from me in pursuit of Kravitz and I had nothing to fall back on. Kravitz was a small dot up the road by the time I crested the last climb.

The order:
1 Lenny Kravitz: Highly recommends a two year sabbatical to any masters racer looking to improve racing results.
2 McGsMACK: Rode his bike 200 miles from Springfield to Rockford IL day after the race.
3 Druber: Reduced to a work-a-day flailer.
4 Flilck-n-sMACK: Came from no where to pass Constant, who couldn't move
5 Constant: OWWWWWW. CRAMP! I'm done.

THE KING RETURNS

Remember, he hasn't even shaved his legs - he's that new and he had that thing on his head that puts me in remembrance of The Great Gazoo from the Flintstones. Big Bird won the day with a great 20:56 followed by team mate and particle physicist Reed Mumfy at 20:57. My better times were 3rd and 4th on the day. Meanwhile, over in Hooterville, Hausfrau, The Mole and the rest of the Estridge/Delta team were winning races without my help. It was a good weekend for the team.

Immediately upon completing the two hour drive from the Time Trial, I packed my bags and Lovely Kathy and I took off for Mexico. I rode a Lifecycle for 1 hour two of the days we were on vacation. We got back on Sunday the 17th and I went for a three hour ride. The next day I was able to ride for 2.5 hours. I haven't been on the bike since. I've been too busy.

I scrubbed my racing plans for this weekend. It was a great decision to leave my position of 15 yeas and start my own firm. It was a questionable choice to do it in the spring rather than last winter. I've gained a new respect and understanding for the masters' racers who work 60 hours a week and who's only goal when showing for weekend races is to not get shelled. I'm now one of you. But as with all things, it could be worse I suppose. I could have tan lines…

Are the tan lines gone yet?