Festive 500 Part 3: Sauvie Island

I woke feeling rested after a good night's sleep on Christmas and was keen to shake off yesterday's poor showing and put on some distance.  Weather looked favorable for an outing to Sauvie Island as the winds were mild.  Gusty days are torment out on the exposed flatlands of the island, situated in the corner of the Columbia/Willamette wind tunnel.  If it's breezy in town, you had better bring sails to the island.  This makes for good training if you're looking to build leg strength and hone your aero position, but I'm not there yet.  Solitude and flat roads were the main factors driving me to Sauvie Island this day.  

I donned an extra layer beyond the kit I had worn the day before, even though the thermometer showed a few extra degrees of warmth and the sky only spat a heavy drizzle rather than the frigid downpour of Christmas.  I was not interested in being cold and intended to keep myself toasty and warm despite the wet conditions.  The blood vessels in my arms stayed much happier with an extra set of sleeves protecting them from the wind chill and I was able to start the ride with a light pair of gloves.  I did keep the insulated and waterproof mitts in my jersey pocket as an insurance policy against frost-nipped fingertips, but was never to need them.  My new tights did an admirable job of keeping the rain from penetrating too deeply into my muscles as I spun out Willamette Blvd toward St. Johns.  The material and construction of these tights could make them perfect for winter training in Portland.  Look for a more through review soon.

 There were plenty of puddles to splash through.  One of these days I'll build myself a proper rain bike.

I crossed the St. Johns Bridge onto old Dirty 30 to find the industrial zone humming with renewed activity after a brief Christmas quietude and pedaled through the blasts of spray from dump trucks and tractor-trailers back on the job.  The peaceful part of the ride began after crossing under the rusty arches of the Sauvie Island bridge.

Sauvie Island is the largest island along the Columbia River (larger than Manhattan, for scale), is part agricultural area, part wildlife sanctuary/hunting preserve and provides enough miles of flat, low-traffic roads for even hardy riders to leave the island with a tired bottom.  The beaches (some of them clothing-optional) are a big draw in the summertime.  This is what the view looked like for most of the southern half of the island:

In addition to flooded fields there are lots of cows, horses, sheep, goats and wild birds to provide entertainment on the completely flat and often dead-straight roads.  I was fortunate that no sections of road were completely flooded on this particular day.

I made the southeastern half of the Gillihan Road loop and turned right onto Reeder Road to make the long out-and-back journey to the beaches on the island's Eastern shore.  The road turns to dirt(!) partway through and was in excellent shape with only a few potholes and minimal washboarding.  I lost no momentum over the smooth bands of hardpack where the car tires pack the loose gravel into the muddy soil and kept a comfortably light cadence with the help of an almost undetectable tailwind.

I came across a huge flock of geese hanging out in a roadside field.  Geese are all too common around the Northwest this time of year, leave their grassy turds all over the riverside roads and paths and are not among my favorite sights, but the size of this flock warranted a stop.  Tack 6 identical frames onto the left edge of the photo below and you'll have some idea of the scale.  This was a lot of honking birds.

I straddled my machine on the muddy roadside, trying to capture the size of the flock in a panoramic photo when - coordinated by some indeciperable signal - the whole crew decided to take off and head on a little farther south.  The rushing cacophony of thousands of beating wings and honking beaks was as loud as a small helicopter and unlike anything I've heard before.

Away they went to brave the hunters' shotguns on their long flight to warmer weather down south. Godspeed.

I headed back down the road and passed this sign, which actually tells the truth unlike most similar signs seen on bike rides.  Never trust a Dead End sign.  

This really is the end of the road unless you have a hunting permit and a good pair of boots.  Sadly, no bikes allowed.

I stopped to eat half of my peanut butter & jelly sandwich and enjoy the quiet.  I couldn't stay long without losing too much body heat, so I quickly resaddled my steed and turned back South for the return trip.

I followed Reeder Road across the island to the west side and its intersection with Sauvie Island Road, which leads along Multnomah Channel and back to the bridge over to Highway 30.

After a quick run South through Linnton on Highway 30 I climbed the ramp to cross under the iconic gothic arches of the St. Johns Bridge back to the East side of the Willamette River toward home.

Continuing the catsitting trend, I stopped through the Arbor Lodge neighborhood to check in on Peanut Butter who told me about his mellow Christmas at home while we did yoga poses and perused the motorcycle accessory catalog that had come in the mail.  Then on home to strip off wet layers, take a warm shower, eat a dinner of Christmas leftovers and watch the Trailblazers in a grudge match with the Sacramento Kings.  

And now - as they say on a particular radio program - let's do the numbers:

Cumulative Totals:

• 208.6km
• 10:05 ride time
• 1,117m climbed
• 5,785 calories 

Despite the lost kilometers from our Christmas misadventure, I'm on a good pace with five days of riding still to come.  With any luck I'll be over the halfway mark tomorrow and will have at least a couple of recovery days before ending the challenge with a bang on New Year's Eve.  

Festive 500 Part 2: Christmas Day

Sadly, the partly sunny conditions from Christmas Eve couldn't last forever and we woke on Christmas morning to a day of extra shitty Portland winter weather.  Clouds hung low, temperatures were only a few degrees above freezing and the rain fell in bucketloads.  After our traditional morning festivities the skies hadn't cleared in the least, rain still fell heavily and temperatures hovered around 38 degrees.  Clearly, the smart thing to do would be to stay inside and sip bloody marys while reading new books and snuggling with the cat.  However, something foolish in our brains told us that we couldn't stay indoors modeling new winter tights all day while bikes sat unridden.  We had to get out and put them to the test, put in at least a handful of kilometers to stay on a good pace toward the 500km goal while riding across town to take care of Jemima Bean, our other feline charge for the holidays.  We delayed setting out for as long as we could but were eventually spurred out the door by the threat of finishing the ride in the dark.

Vera didn't understand why we'd want to leave and we were unable to explain.  It just doesn't make sense.

India - clad in her technical cookwear - prepped the pot roast for Christmas dinner before hitting the road.

We headed across the Steel Bridge through cold wind and blowing rain and continued through Old Town toward the foot of Washington Park, hoping that the uphill roads would help our chilly bodies warm up.

Merry Christmas, Portland!

We crossed over Burnside and onto the narrow switchbacks of the multi-use path through the woods into Washington Park.  We warmed up pretty quickly on the climb and were able to keep our toes and fingertips warm while our effort increased and the windchill abated.

We reached the Rose Garden and were treated to a gray haze where the Portland Skyline is usually visible.  No big surprise.

We continued climbing through the park, past the Oregon Zoo up to Fairview Road and had achieved a reasonable level of toastiness when we reached the intersection.  Now we were faced with a choice of descents, none of which sounded very appetizing given the frigid chill and persistent rainfall.  We chose what we percieved as the least of all possible evils and turned right onto Fairview, descended back into the Washington Park neighborhoods, passed by the Japanese Garden and Rose Garden and continued the down Sherwood Blvd to the foot of the park.  

At this point, the fact that we had greatly underestimated the warmth of our rain jackets and gone out significantly underdressed was abundantly clear.  We had been warm briefly when climbing but had  otherwise been locked in a battle for body heat and blood flow to the extremities since we started out the front door.  We attempted to warm up a bit before continuing the descent into downtown by making a short ascent to a monument and overlook but felt little benefit. 

India was ready to get out of the cold and rain, take care of our catsitting obligations and get home so we braved the soaking rain and chill of the descent down Park Place to Salmon and into the city, barely able to pull the brake levers firmly enough to stop our wet rims in time for the downhill stop signs.

We headed directly across Broadway Bridge to the Sullivan's Gulch neighborhood to take care of Jemima, warm up gloves and search Brooke and Anton's apartment for warming alcoholic beverages (we found none) while attempting to shake off the persistent chill.  After attending to the big, furry lady's needs, we pulled our saturated gloves and jackets on for the return home via Broadway and Williams.  We yelled Merry Christmas a roving bike posse who probably were toting flasks instead of water bottles.  Smart folks.

After nearly two hours locked in a struggle for warmth we made it home, put the pot roast in the oven and poured another bloody mary to ward off disappointment while playing with Christmas toys.    Here's hoping for better weather and smarter layering tomorrow.

Today's Totals:

1:45

26.9km

355m ascent

654cal (a gross understatement, I'm sure)

Cumulative Totals

6:28

124.9km

909m ascent

3362 cal

Festive 500 Part 1: Christmas Eve

Anticipation has built, plans have been laid, preparations have been made and the time to embark on Rapha's annual Festive 500 challenge has arrived!  If you don't know what the Festive 500 is all about, consult my previous post or Rapha's website for details.  

The weather appeared promising the night before but the outlook had improved as India and I sipped our coffee on the morning of Christmas Eve.  The chance of rain had dropped from 50% to less than 15% with a realistic possibility of seeing some sun!  The day looked perfect for a longish winter ride so the plan for an almost-completely-flat 100km jaunt out to Troutdale along with mighty Columbia River, south to the aptly-named municipality of Boring and back to Portland was put into action.  

We rolled out the door and headed north to the Marine Drive bike path under partly cloudy skies and in good spirits.

The bike path along the Columbia River is always prime birdwatching territory and we spotted an impressive tally of winged specimens that included four hawks, two kestrels, two blue herons, one white heron and countless ducks and gulls on our trip east.  After 25km of bike path cruising we arrived in Troutdale, gateway to the Columbia Gorge and home to outlet malls, truckstops and one seriously shitty hill.

The climb up Buxton Rd. from Troutdale's main drag is only four or five blocks long but the last couple are seriously steep and have thrown many a big wrench into the quadriceps of riders out for an easy, flat ride.  India was not thrilled as she started up the slope.  She managed the climb with grace and a good cadence despite her lack of recent mileage and cyclocross-holdover single-chainring gearing.

We got over the hump and onto the rolling hills of Troutdale Road to make our way south to the booming metropolis of Boring, Oregon and disturbed a flock of birds while blinded by the glare of sun on wet road.

I had admittedly forgotten about some of the nasty rollers on the southbound stretch of this particular road and was forced into my bottom gear several times to maintain a reasonable spin and stay in the saddle.  Winter Training Rule #6: No Riding Out of the Saddle Until March.

We arrived in Boring at the terminus of the Springwater Corridor trail, marked with a white silhouette of the Nativity...

...and splashed into the semi-flooded first sections of the Springwater, which are still blessedly unpaved despite recent transportation and recreation "improvements."  Here's to budget cuts and gravel trails!

We took the horse trail detour for a little slick tire slip-n-slide, hoping not to run into any spooky equines out for a Christmas Eve trot or unavoidable piles of droppings.  Fortunately, we had the trail to ourselves and emerged with turd-free tires.

After the seemingly interminable and nearly arrow-straight run into Portland on the rails-to-trails conversion and with just over 80km in the bag for the day, we stopped in to see our friend Kristina at Metropolis Cycle Repair who had promised bourbon and cider on Christmas Eve.  She was true to her word and served up a tasty beverages along with red velvet cupcakes, creating a perfect combination of fat, sugar, warmth, spice and alcohol in my empty belly.  Mmm... Bulleit...

We hung out, shot the shit with Kristina and coworker Matt, perused some of Metropolis's offerings and allowed our bottoms to enjoy some welcome time off the saddle before finishing the ride home.  I could have stayed the afternoon sipping another cup of cider, watched the parade of riders on Williams while fondling fancy gloves, sunglasses and 'cross bikes but there were other errands to run before Christmas Eve relaxing could begin.

Before we were able to make it out the door, Kristina managed to shove a pair of shop-branded water bottles and beer cozies into our hands, making us feel like sponsored pros and putting a smile on both of our faces.  India's happens to be more photogenic.

She rode home to a warm shower and solid food as I headed on farther North to take care of Ira and Rachel's cat Peanut Butter who is spending the holidays at home alone, which is pretty much okay with him.  He is a handsome little bastard and spends lots of time admiring his reflection in other people's camera lenses when his parents aren't in town.

We had a beer, talked about what kind of bike Jesus would ride, developed thoughtful solutions to couple of the more pressing problems facing our society and hung out in boxes.  It was pretty much an average afternoon for gentlemen of leisure like ourselves.

Unfortunately, I had to excuse myself from Peanut's company to finish my rounds and still get home before dark.  First to the local booze emporium for a bottle of vodka to pour in our Christmas Bloody Marys and then to our friend (and fellow native Georgian) Mike's beer-selling establishment for a 6-pack of fine winter ale.  After I emptied my overstuffed jersey pockets of their contents - 750ml of Stolichnaya (yes, it fit), a jar of stuffed olives, phone, cash, ID, camera, uneaten Clif bar, empty PB&J bag and gloves - we installed beers in our new cozies and toasted a proper ride on Christmas Eve!

India was already showered and at work in the kitchen getting our breakfast casserole ready for tomorrow morning and I was excited to strip off the lycra, shower off and put my legs up to recover.  Sadly, that would all have to wait.  True to my usual form, I had missed a message asking me to stop by the local bakery and pick up a roll of their take-and-bake puff pastry for a holiday delicacy.  So, I was promptly turned back out into the cold and told not to come back without a roll of dough.  By the time I returned from my final errand of the afternoon I had tallied a hair under 98km, just shy of my goal of 100km for the first day of the challenge.  Not too shabby.

Tomorrow is Christmas and anybody who chooses to spend more of the day riding than they do hanging out in warm clothes with family, friends and pets has their priorities a little out of whack.  So, we'll be getting out on the bike for a relaxed cruise along some of our favorite close-to-town roads but keeping the distance and tempo moderate and comfortable.

Here are today's stats, which represent totals for the challenge so far.  Follow along to see the kilometers, calories and hours pile up in the next eight days!

Training to Train: A Prelude to the Festive 500

You know you're pretty far out of shape when training is required before actual training can begin and that's the situation I found myself in this December.  Other than my regular rides for transportation, I hadn't been on my bike since the last Cyclocross Crusade of the season when I ripped my rear derailleur in half and was forced to pull out of a muddy race that I was riding well in.  My year of racing ended with that moment and the sound of cracking carbon fiber.  I was demoralized by the catastrophic mechanical, without funding for replacement components and ready to spend some quality time with family before setting back into training for 2013 so I fully embraced the idea of the off-season.  Now - after a mostly healthy but sometimes unhealthy period of nearly a month spent relaxing off the bike - the time has come to shake out the cobwebs and get back in the saddle.

Inspiration and motivation can be hard to come by this time of year when the clouds hang low, days are painfully short and the sun doesn't seem to come out at all.  In order to spur myself to get out the door and onto the roads, I've decided to participate in Rapha's Festive 500 to lay down a block of quality base miles in a season when most of my competitors would be lazing on the couch.  The goal for the challenge is to ride 500km (no rollers or trainers allowed) between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve to avoid falling too deeply into the slothful season; a sizeable but not impossible tally of distance that requires an average of 62.5km (just less than 40 miles) for each of the eight days.  Despite the apparently achievable distance, I'm going to need a little preparation to have a chance of successfully completing the Festive 500 without doing myself more harm than good.

I wasn't feeling too enthusiastic about getting out on the bike when I woke to near-freezing temperatures and a thick, gray sky one week before Christmas.  But then the snow started to fall.  Snow is such a novelty in Portland - the land of the rainy, sunless 40-degree winter - that it actually made the prospect of being out on a bike more enticing than before.  I resolved to finish my breakfast, layer myself in lycra, take to the road to explore this wintertime anomaly and put in a couple of hours to loosen the legs.  After the snow shower slowed and the clouds lifted slightly I was treated to a view of the West Hills dusted with white and knew I had to get myself up there, up in the woods of Forest Park.

Even though I love to climb, the inevitable bone-chilling descents on wet, mossy roads typically keep me confined to the lowlands during all but the warmest and driest winter days, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.  After all, winter training (unless you're in Mallorca, Australia or Southern California) is about hardening the will along with the legs.  The rider in those sunny climes may return with intimidating tan lines but the pale-skinned who trains through the worst that winter has to offer starts the season with a finely-honed mental toughness that is less visible but sharper.  This is the time when we re-learn how to suffer after an off-season spent in comfortable lethargy.  So, into the snowy hills we go.

I saddled up and pedaled north to cross the St. Johns Bridge into an aggressive headwind blowing in from the West.  Once in the shadow of the hills the wind abated and I made quick progress along Highway 30 to the base of Saltzman Road.  A light rain began to fall just as I made the turn off the highway onto the first uphill stretch of pavement.  I knew my body temperature would rise as I climbed faster than the temperature would drop so I rolled back the earflap of my cap and cracked the collar of my jacket to allow the 36-degree breeze to cool my core.  I was obliged to fully unzip the jacket before I rounded the second corner.

The precipitation transitioned from rain into a wet, icy mix as I splashed through the muddy puddle - present in all but the driest times of year - on the left of the Saltzman gate.  I put the pavement and city behind me in favor of the mud and trees.  Every time I ride in Forest Park this line of demarcation precipitates a nearly instantaneous change in my mood.  The grit-your-teeth-and-get-it-over-with run across the St. Johns Bridge and down the industrial highway isn't always the most pleasant way to start a ride - especially on a Tuesday morning when all the dump trucks and semis are out in full force - but any angst accumulated during those few miles floats away like steam through helmet vents once tires strike dirt and tree branches reach across the road overhead.

The falling slush began to freeze a little tighter and had begun to accumulate on roadside ferns and fallen leaves as the road climbed away from the river.  I spun my lowest gear, kept my effort and heart rate in check to prevent overheating and the chill that comes from generating too much sweat on a near-freezing day.

Before I had gained 500 feet of elevation the snow had really begun to collect on the roadside leaves and fell in wet, heavy flakes on my shoulders.  The road was still a soggy bog but the beauty in the trees kept me from thinking too much about my skinny tires sinking into the slop.

The snow got thicker farther up the climb but still wasn't accumulating on the road.

Ira recently wrote that a full wool cap is too warm for Portland.  I'm inclined to agree until the temperatures drop into the low thirties!  My wool cap from Little Package was the perfect choice for this day; never too hot on the climb and kept the snowflakes out of my eyes.

The snow grew thicker and began to encroach on the road with around a kilometer left to climb.  

Two tracks diverged in a wood.  Turns out they were both mine.

I plowed my way through an inch or two of snow to reach the summit, crossed through the gate, dodged the slushy potholes on the access road and arrived at Skyline Blvd where a heavy winter stillness hung in the air.  Snow covered everything in a light blanket that blended seamlessly into the dull white of the clouded-over sky.

The road only had a light coat of snow and some tire tracks to follow so I tested the traction and decided to give the pavement a go.  I kept my speed in check and chose cautious lines but still felt a bit anxious on the frosty asphalt.  I didn't expect much traffic as Portlanders are terrified of driving in snowy conditions but neglected to take the Christmas shipping season into account.  Over just a little more than a kilometer on Skyline I was passed closely by no fewer than three delivery trucks.  I also witnessed an SUV spinning its wheels in an attempt to climb out of its driveway.

I wasn't enjoying sharing the road with nervous drivers and overworked package carriers.  The prospect of navigating the downhill ramps and tight corners of Thompson Road on a frosting of shaved ice didn't sound so appealing either so I made the decision to take my chances descending in the slush and mud of Saltzman where I could at least feel confident that I wouldn't be run over by a speeding delivery van if I did lose traction.  I turned myself around, backtracked to the snowy park entrance and followed my tracks back down the hill.

The only other mammals I had seen on the ascent had been the chilly-looking squirrels, but I passed a dog-walking couple and a young lady out for a run as I started down the hill.  They all looked a bit surprised to see me but smiled and waved back in an expression of shared excitement.

A little farther down I passed a pair of fellow cyclists on their way up and felt a hint of satisfaction at having laid down the first tire tracks on the snowy road that morning.

My fingers and toes began to get chilled on the descent - despite my insulated gloves and shoe covers - but my head and core stayed warm all the way to the bottom.  I'll be sure to tape over the vents in the soles of my shoes before the next cold ride!  A weak ray of sunshine greeted me as I re-emerged onto Highway 30 and headed towards downtown Portland to finish the ride with a cruise through the Northwest Industrial area and the Pearl District before crossing the Broadway Bridge and heading home.

The numbers are less than inspiring but I was happy to have tallied two good hours on the bike (plus a little extra time for taking photos and looking around in awe at the snowy scenery) in proper winter weather and gained a bit of confidence heading into the Festive 500.  Now for a quick clean of the bike, a good stretch and a steak-egg-and-cheese burrito for a solid protein fix!

I'll be posting stories and photos from the upcoming challenge on this blog and my flickr page, with the chance of some occasional tweets from the road to spice things up.  Follow along and be sure to get out and ride yourself this winter to start the new year off right!

American Powers in Europe

As our two main presidential candidates bicker about America's role in the world and the relative merits of their own foreign policy ideas, we have heard almost no discussion of the rapidly-evolving situation in Europe.  We've heard their ideas about how to counter Chinese command of international trade, how to ensure that our young people have the education and resources needed to compete with the best and brightest minds and reestablish America's place as a leader in world affairs, but neither man has stood up to address the weighty problem of Belgian dominance in the newly internationalized sport of cyclocross. With the United States hosting the first non-European World Championships in Louisville this February we need a leader who is willing to take a stand and deliver concrete results, who is able to step boldly into the fray to challenge the Belgians on their own ground and beat them at their own game.  The man we need for this job is not running for national office this November, isn't campaigning in swing states on a bus tour, but can often be seen wearing the American flag.  That man is Jeremy Powers.

Image © Photopress.be

The Rapha-Focus rider is clearly on a tear.  After the stellar 2011-12 season where Powers won nearly every stateside race he entered, dominated the US Gran Prix of Cyclocross and put in a commanding ride at the National Championships in Madison to capture the Stars-and-Stripes jersey that had previously eluded him, many riders would have been happy to continue dominating American races and content themselves with the role of national 'cross hero.  However, Powers has other ideas and greater ambitions for himself and the future of American cyclocross.  These ambitions were on display last Sunday in Tabor where Powers laid out his foreign policy agenda, went toe-to-toe with the entrenched Flemish superpowers on a classic Euro-style course and delivered a groundbreaking best-ever finish in a World Cup cyclocross race for an American.  Even the highly partisan Sporza commentators agreed that Jeremy Powers has indeed arrived on the international scene.

After his second-row start just behind the rainbow stripes of Neils Albert, Powers found himself in the scrum of the main field, riding shoulder-to-shoulder in a fight for position through the tight s-bends of the Tabor course while the lead group of usual suspects rode smoothly in single-file, establishing a slight gap and conserving precious energy.  On the second lap, Powers was running in 14th position while Sven Nys pushed the pace ever higher at the front, forcing the rest of the field to dig deep to hold his wheel.  Only Lars Van Der Haar, Klaas Vantornout and Kevin Pauwels seemed able to match the accelerations of the Belgian Champion.  Despite his flying start and obvious good form, Nys' race looked to be over with seven laps still to go when he suffered a broken chain.  Unflappable as always, the cool-headed veteran casually coasted his Colnago toward the pits as the race was took shape without him.  Van Der Haar led a group of five - now including Neils Albert and Czech upstart Radomir Simunek - while Powers worked his way through the chase group 20 seconds off the pace.  After trading his carbon-fiber hobby-horse for a proper chain-driven machine, Nys showcased his strength and skill in a methodical assault on the field, picking his way through twenty-odd top professionals as if they were lapped traffic.

Image © Photopress.be

By the time the Cannibal from Baal joined the chase group, Powers had moved to the front of the pack and was driving the chase, fighting to keep the gap to the leaders under the critical 30-second mark.  The Europeans were happy to let the Yankee test his strength in an effort to close the gap and he received little help at the fore.  Powers managed to pull his group to within sight of the escapees, creating the possibility for riders to attempt to bridge the gap.  Nys hung around in the bunch for long enough to catch his breath before striking out on his own in pursuit of the leaders in the final laps.  Seeing the opportunity, Powers gamely attempted to follow the wheel of the Belgian master.  Try as he might, the American champion was clearly outmatched and quickly dropped by Nys, who went on to pick off Simenuk for a solid fifth-place finish.  Powers - whose legs were suffering the ill effects of the early fight for position and his efforts leading the chase for nearly half the race - was nipped by Bart Aernouts in the sprint for sixth but was clearly pleased with his finish.

Despite the personal and national history that Powers made with his strong ride, the Belgian armada was intractable as ever in Tabor.  Powers and Van Der Haar were the only non-Belgian finishers in the top eight and Sven Nys showed that he was clearly the strongest man in the field and is still a powerful force to be reckoned with despite (or perhaps due to) his age.  Despite the possibiliy that he may not have the skills, fitness or tactical accumen to go head-to-head with Nys, we did see that the unbeatable form Powers exhibited in the first rounds of the USGP this season is good enough to propel him to new heights in Europe while continuing to break down barriers and make history.  After seeing what he was able to do in this first round of the UCI World Cup, we're still left with some exciting questions about the rest of Powers' season.  What could he achieve with a front-row start?  Could we see him on the podium of a World Cup this season?  What could he do in Louisville if he is able to maintain his strong form and things go his way?  Is he the best-poised rider to prevent another Belgian podium sweep at Worlds?

Despite all these questions and the pressure on his shoulders, Powers remains upbeat and enthusiastic.  He currently sits in 10th position on UCI points and will hope to add to his total as the season progresses to secure the best possible starting position in the stacked grid in Louisville.  His stated goal for this European campaign is a top-five World Cup finish and he'll have perhaps his best chance tomorrow in Plzen on a course where he has performed admirably in the past.  His 10th-place finish last year was his best World Cup result to that date and he stands well-poised to better that result when he takes the start on Sunday.

No matter who is in the White House this February, American 'cross fans can rest assured that Jeremy Powers stands ready to represent the United States at the highest level of international cyclocross and in Louisville at the culmination of this already historic season. Now, if we can just get him to leave that toadstool helmet in his hotel room...