Chasing Dragons

“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and rouuuunnd,” sings a tiny little voice belonging to the happy two-something-year-old perched on a stool at the kitchen counter.  She fidgets and smiles and is briefly fascinated by an avalanche of frozen berries, which steam as I pour them into a hot pot of oatmeal.  It’s just after 6:30 in the morning and two dear friends and their young daughter are visiting for the next few days.  I’m jet-lagged on central European time, returned the night before from a race trip in Germany and France. At this hour I’m feeling great, and ready for this babysitting adventure.  Her parents have borrowed bikes from the garage and are out on a dawn-patrol escape.  I’m on breakfast duty. 

I’ve made this breakfast a lot.  Steel cut oats with eggs and other accouterment. And cardamom. It’s nothing special at all, but it’s been part of the special routine.  For a moment it brings my mind back forty-eight hours to France.  It’s the morning of a bike race, just another bike race, just another one as in the way another pot of good breakfast is nourishing and a good way to start the day. But this race has been on my mind literally or imaginatively in a way no pot of oatmeal has ever been.  If everything could come together, an extraordinarily good performance would mean that I preserve this Olympic campaign. Zika virus and debauched Olympic establishments be damned, a ticket to Rio and fulfillment of a boyhood dream might still be possible. Possible if I could just take all of the last four or eight years’ worth of oatmeal and training days and race beyond perfect.  It's always been a long shot, but I know I have what it takes.  I wouldn't have come this far if that wasn't the case.  Stirring the pot, I contemplate that perfect race that didn’t happen, and the perfect outcome that won’t.   

 “Yesterday we went to the zooooo,” says the little one, “and we saw a dragonnn!” she says in a snarling tone with big eyes, making claws with her fingers.  Maybe she’s referring to an actual Komodo dragon someone showed her at the Woodland Park Zoo, or she’s just mixing up something she was shown in a storybook.  Either way, my brooding over youthful athletic fantasy fades and I slide her a little bowl of breakfast.  Watching her smack it down and play with the glob of banana that falls off her spoon, I think about how we all have big imaginations and that young and old, we still get confused by things that don’t necessarily exist in the world the same as they do in our own minds.  For kids, I guess it’s things like monsters and dragons, and for adults, it’s notions like chasing perfection in the pursuits we care about.  All of these things exist in some form or another, those monsters and dragons and perfect jobs and perfect training regimens and perfect performances. But the reality is that these things only exist in very discrete ways, in little fleeting bits along the way.  None exist completely or absolutely. I wonder...'Does being grown up mean that one understands that there isn’t actually an implicit contract in life that yields fantasy outcomes proportional to the energy put towards achieving them?'

“What should we do today?” I ask when I notice she’s finished her bowl of oats.  “Fish!” she exclaims.  I laugh at the random idea, and am still thinking about how this little two-year-old has inadvertently rebalanced me by reminding me the difference between what really exists in front of me and what exists between my ears.  I start to clean up.  

“A, B, C, D, E, F, Geeeee,” she starts to sing, reciting the entire alphabet perfectly, even holding a tune while doing so.  Somebody taught her that and she’ll turn it into so much more.  Reading books and writing papers and designing her own life full of adventures and professions and chasing the odd dragon.  I ponder what it means to put energy into things that grow; kids, careers, personal ambitions...  Inputs that equal something greater than the sum of their parts, creating something whose energy goes beyond you and keeps giving.  That’s a good growth trajectory, isn’t it?  If I hadn’t chased this Olympic dragon, I can’t even imagine how much growing I’d have missed out on myself.   

“I want some moorrre!” she says. 

‘Me, too,’ I think to myself.  ‘Me, too.’ 

Dropping in to the Cairns, AUS World Cup - Photo by: Jason Stevens/Downhill247.com

Somewhere in my back yard. Photo by: Caleb Smith/Kona Bicycles

Cairns, AUS World Cup, Photo by: Jason Stevens Photography/Downhill 247

Churning through the turns at Laguna Seca Raceway, CA - Photo by: Caleb Smith

Cairns, AUS World Cup - Photo by: Lovegreen Photography

Seven Days in Spring

As the tan lines from the New Zealand expedition faded into the uniform pearly hue of a common Cascadia native, an equally familiar and consistent routine unfolded at home.  Slow-roast mornings and dinners with friends, training on the trails and the roads and in the gym, lots or training.  And really wet shoes.  Planting seeds in the dirt and taking ice-cold plunges into the lake. Wrenching in the garage. Early-to-bed nights after an evening of playing personal travel agent. Sneaking countless handfulls of chocolate chips from the stash in the pantry.  Each day at a time, but always planning, always processing the system, always designing. A routine familiar and consistent indeed, though not lacking in variety or excitement.  A week’s worth of excerpts…

Thursday, 7:30AM in the garage circa early February...the workbench in the garage is cluttered with the lingering aftermath of an early season bike trip, not to mention the constant jumble of tools and parts used to keep several bikes running smoothly through the wet and muddy training weeks.  I'm not sure this morning if the smell of coffee or chain lube is more invigorating.  I must already be in deep...like yesterday's mud. I must have brought back about 3 cups of soil back from the hill...at that rate I may be able to re-sod part of the raised bed by the end of April...

Friday, 12:30PM, late February, southbound from Birch Bay...Stephen, our newly adopted housemate and my new bicycling craft companion for the season, is feeling the ergogenic benefits of the pumpkin-flavored Costco muffin from the Bay Cafe at Birch Bay.  That, or maybe the view of Shuksan and Kulshan, the "white sentinels".  Four hours today on the road bikes.  All day in the sunshine?! Thankful for that...and Coscto muffins...  That afternoon my folks show up for a weekend visit to see the new house. Dad approves of the Doug fir trim and starts strumming the guitar while still in his bike clothes, making time; Mom high-grades the sunbeam for some craft making...

Saturday, 2:00PM, early March, Bonelli Park, CA...the only reason I ever travel to this part of the country is for bike racing, and I appreciate this place for the bike racing and all of the energy the  promoters have pumped into this sport in an otherwise not-so-mountain-bikey part of the world. The Bellingham-esque precipitation followed us on the quick journey south. The rain cleared the smog from the skies, allowing more than a glimpse of the San Gabriel Mountains that loom otherwise invisible above the megalopolis.  It was a good shakedown today.  Stephen won.  I got fifth.  We chugged some champagne.  Travel was smooth.  That's another big difference between bike riders and bike racers.  Bike racers have to be able to perform well amidst lots of travel and unfamiliar environments...

Sunday, 10:00AM, early-March, some mossy trails near Duncan, British Columbia...It's been a steady drizzle all morning and I'm trying to keep the keep my grips and gloves dry as we wait for the camera guys to set up for the next shot.  The personal marketing and social media-ing is a perpetual aspect of being a professional action-sport athlete, and making film projects with talented videographers and photographers is one of best perks.  While waiting, we scrape a drainage channel into the side of a puddle on the trail.  It drains out into the ferns and leaves a glossy film of mud.  Joonas says "one more," but he really probably means three more.  We session a pocketed berm at least seven more times, filming some new content for Kona Bikes and some yet-to-be-announced new goodies for Spring 2016.  Our new team rider Rhys is a good kid and a shredder.  I think he'll carry the torch pretty far...

Monday, all day, mid March...I've recently learned about sheet mulching as a way to improve garden soil, which is an opportune discovery on account of the excess of cardboard piling up in the garage. Heaps of new equipment have shown up from our excellent sponsors. Frames from Kona Bikes, wheels and drivetrains from Shimano, suspension forks from MRP, tires from Maxxis, tire sealant from Stans NoTubes, saddles from Wilderness Trail Bikes, nutrition from Clif Bar, power meters from Stages Cycling, shoes and helmets from Giro, clothing from Jakroo, sunglasses from Smith Optics, orthotics from SuperFeet. It's incredible and fantastic, especially because it won't always be this way.  The way I see it, the volume of gear that shows up each spring is a way of affirming the amount of work you've put in over the last few years to earn that gear.  Tinkering away and feeling deeply thankful for my sponsors and the products they design...

Tuesday, 11:00AM, late February Metier, Seattle to nerd out on some physio stats..."Breathe!," yells Richter as I endure the closing seconds of a Moxy Zone Assessment Protocol step test, all kinds of numbers and lines flashing on a monitor in front of me, the second round of 430 watts for four minutes and I'm just trying to channel the pain into a useful spot and keep the bellows going in the chest.  "You've improved your efficiency and your pump is strong but you can still work on your breathing," they tell me.  The breathing. It's some of the lowest hanging fruit in the game of eking out top athletic performance. Amidst all the other numbers that can amass in the training protocols of professional cycling, it's funny to think that something as simple as breathing can go overlooked by many.  The numbers can be fun, too.  They're telling of lots of hard work.  In the last 90-days the numbers, it's something like 230 hours, 1,900 miles, 10,600 Training Stress Score points, 207,000 feet of climbing, 210,000 of descending.  Go until you get blisters on your hands one day in the early season, then you'll be immune from them for the rest of the year.  'Measuring is knowing' is what they say, but the numbers are still less than half the picture.  The majority of this game is more art than science...    

Wednesday, 4:30PM, early April, mountain biking...Sarah and some of the guys are off of work early and it's a clear afternoon, the dirt is primo.  I'm about to be gone racing for a month...California, Australia, Arizona...so any amount of wrangling to put together an afternoon shred is worth it.  So much of the training happens solo, it makes the days riding with friends that much better, and reaffirms the outlook on the long term, that the trails and friends will be there. When I'm off racing and home feels far away, it's important to have those days at home where racing feels far away, too.  That way they balance out, and coming back to each is always exciting.  Cheers...

Photo credits in order of appearance: Spencer Paxson (1-5); Joonas Vinaari; Joe Lawwill/Shimano; Erin Huck; Spencer Paxson; Caleb Smith/Kona Bicycles; Spencer Paxson (11-18); Caleb Smith/Kona Bicycles; Spencer Paxson (20-23)

Lords of the Big Ring: The Pioneer

In the hills of the Southern Alps of New Zealand there ventured four intrepid friends, mountain bikers.  Not uncultured, grubby, smelly dirtbags (not yet, anyway), nor yet stylish, sophisticated or too rigid as to not have a laugh at themselves and throw back a beer or three: they were mountain bikers, and that means adventure. 

They were perfectly svelte mountain bikers, inclined to wear tight shorts and spend their days roaming across the countryside, equally keen to pedal up as they were to pedal down.  Their legs bore a garish tan line about midway up the thigh, as if they had once been dipped in brown paint, a consequence of wearing their tight shorts in the sunshine.  More than anything else, they were good friends with a common passion, and had weathered many a two-wheeled escapade in each others' company.  All four came from a great land of salmon and tall trees known as Cascadia, and if you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about these mountain bikers, you would be prepared for any sort of remarkable tale.  Indeed, this is the [short] story of how these mountain bikers had an adventure in the far off land of New Zealand, and it is no exception.   

One crisp autumn day, as each of these spandex swashbucklers was amidst business of their own, hunkering down for winter, they received an invitation to share in a worthy expedition in early February: a seven-day stage race that would traverse the rugged foothills and dales of New Zealand's Southern Alps, from Christchurch to Queenstown, 560 kilometers with 15,200 meters of climbing.  It was called The Pioneer.  It was to be ridden in teams of two.  It promised to be the first of its kind to link together singletrack and farm tracks in this special part of the world, where soaring mountain peaks, crystal-clear blue lakes, and golden high country would surely inspire awe...and lots of fitness. To nobody's surprise, no further coaxing was needed.  Beers were toasted, airplane tickets were purchased, and the crew was in!  

    

February was soon upon them, and the boys found themselves shrugging off a cold winter and a long airplane ride, squinting in the bright Kiwi sunshine as they re-assembled their precious bikes.  "Find stunning, find character, find welcome," proclaimed the race directors.  It was no riddle, as all of these things were front and center from the moment the race began; stunning landscapes, character-building challenges, and warm Kiwi hospitality.       

Like deep water released from the gates of a dam, the four riders roared out of the start gates and into the countryside, setting a pace over the next seven days that only one of the 240 other duos could match (and eventually best...those two being a World Champion and a World Cup champion).  Each day was full of roughly made tracks, full of jagged stones and the errant cowpie.  One of our intrepid duos suffered a terrible sequence of slashed tires on the second day.  Everyone got poop on their faces. Climbs were dreadfully steep, often coming in doses of 1,000 meters at a time, and some stretches of primitive farm roads seemed to meander endlessly through vast basins, golden hills and snow-capped mountains looming overhead.  Each day had the riders journeying deeper and deeper into the wild, where crystal clear lakes and delicious feasts awaited tired legs.  Each night, the Milky Way would glimmer out beyond the stars, and weary riders would wake each morning feeling grounded and recharged by nature, ready for the next ride.

After about 28 hours of cumulative ride time and around 1 million heartbeats altogether, our four mountain bikers crossed the finish line in Queenstown, weary from the ride yet beaming with pleasure and thirsty for beer.  After high-fives they collapsed in the grass and fell to talking about the glorious week.  One of the best perhaps. But it's pointless to judge.  Better to simply appreciate and relish all that it entails, for any week on a bike is a great one.      

All photos by Duncan Philpott

For more details on the race, visit www.thepioneer.co.nz, and check out the race reports that were posted on the Kona COG throughout the week.  

Arrangements With the Weather Gods, Part II

Update: If you are a regular reader of this blog, you may recall that exactly one year ago, I made good use of my special arrangement with the Weather Gods when I resigned from my day job as a renewable energy developer and promoted myself to full time Professional Cyclist for The Kona Bicycle Company. That is, in exchange for my service of putting wind and solar projects onto the grid and offsetting my carboniferous* ways as a globe-trotting outdoor fanatic, the architects of the elements granted me favorable weather conditions for whichever outdoor activity I happened to partake in. Whether it was good snow for skiing, or crisp, dry days for cycling, the weather gods would deliver!  In this case, the closing act and high-point of the deal entailed very mild winter weather conditions during my acute transition to full-time professional cycling in December 2014 (perfect for training!). All I had to do to fulfill my end of the contract was to train diligently, grow personally, and enjoy my work.


*I'm inventing a new use of the word "carboniferous" to imply carbon-burning activities, not relating to, or denoting the fifth period of the Paleozoic era, from 360 million to 286 million years ago. Speaking of carboniferous, smoke-infused clouds over Mt. Adams during the giant forest fires in the Gifford Pinchot this summer. Photo Credit: Diane Paxson

Hard at work at the Mt. St. Anne World Cup in Quebec, August 2015. Photo Credit: Duncan Philpott/Kona Bicycles

It Gets Warm and Fuzzy: A full year later, and I'm happy to say that the self-promotion has been fantastic.  Not only am I feeling well-established in my "métier" as a cyclist, I'm feeling more established in life, in general! In the context of life's work, and having come from the more typical situation of being "a-bike-racer-who-also-has-a-quote-real-job-end-quote" (btw I am conflicted with the term "real job"), I sometimes view my situation as a mini-retirement, which allows me to appreciate the people who have inspired me and helped me to get here, the planning and patience it took to create this system, savor every drop of it, and look toward the future with positive momentum and motivation.  Most times I don't even contemplate anything other than the task at hand, which is immensely rewarding in itself.  It all has me growing as a cyclist, and more importantly as a person, learning and developing habits and perspectives that I feel will benefit my family and me for the rest of my days.  I've even excused the Weather Gods from bothering with my system, because, well, controlling the weather is selfish and too tricky.*  And besides, I entered into a few new contracts in late-2015 that far outweigh my need for agreeable weather conditions.  First of all, Sarah and I got married!! We also purchased a beautiful home! We are grateful to be well-planted in Beautiful Bellingham, with good friends, stimulating work, and a community dedicated to world-class stewardship and enjoyment of the outdoors.    

All hyperbole aside, above is one of a million good moments on the "best. day. ever." in Moretown, VT. I should note that we had perfect weather for our outdoor wedding in Vermont despite a hurricane blowing up the East Coast the day before and frost the day after, and when we moved, the rain stopped just when we needed to carry items out of the moving truck...thanks, Weather Gods.       

The vexingly positive update continues: Prior to my record-setting offseason, in which I became a married man and a homeowner, the 2015 race season finished on a high note as well.  Back in September I earned the honor of competing with the US National Team in my fifth mountain bike World Championships, this time in the small country of Andorra.  There I posted a career-best international result, finishing 40th on the day, coming from behind, outside of 100th, and along the way churning out lap times good enough for the top-25.  On paper it doesn't sound too impressive, but it had me fired up.  It felt like a good culmination of the increased commitment I had made through the year.  Along those lines, it had me looking positively toward the final Olympic selection process in 2016.

Just a few highlights from the 2015 season: Competing at the international star-studded US Cup; hypoxia at the Continental Champs in Colombia; getting lost at BC Bike Race; competing in the 2015 Pan Am Games in Toronto; setting a personal best at World Champs.

Speaking of 2016: I'm delighted to say that I'll be renewing my contract with The Kona Bicycle Company for the 6th year. As such, they'll be providing me with endless amounts of candy, and a bike made of iron (get it?).  Training is already well underway, and every day involves interesting preparations for a big season that will focus on making it to the Olympics!  On December 4th, USA Cycling announced the women's and men's Olympic Long Team, naming the list of athletes from which the final 2016 Olympic rosters will be selected.  I'm honored to be one of seven men and eight women who earned one of those spots!  

To be clear, making the Long Team is akin to making the "Olympic Trials".  The "Short Team" will consist of two (and possibly just one!) riders.  Those riders will be selected in June 2016 based on their performance in major international and domestic competitions between March and June.  The Olympics will take place in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in late August.  There is still a massive amount of work to be done to earn a ticket to Rio.  That said, I'm thrilled by the opportunity and eager for the journey. This is my second time being named to an Olympic Long Team, and I'm coming into it with an order of magnitude greater experience than I had last time around.  Below is a snapshot of the schedule I am looking forward to for 2016.

To my sponsors: It's difficult to overstate how fortunate I feel to be able to pursue these opportunities, and I am grateful to represent my sponsors who make these pursuits possible: The Kona Bicycle Company, Shimano, Fox Suspension, Maxxis Tires, ODI Grips, Wilderness Trail Bikes, Champion Systems Clothing, Stans NoTubes, Clif Bar, Giro Sport Design, Smith Optics, as well as Stages Cycling, and Trailhead Athletics.

Stay tuned for more updates soon!  

Meanwhile, I'm warmed by the thought of all this inspiring others to seek fulfillment and happiness through their craft, whatever it may be. If you like, you can follow along on my NEW Facebook Athlete Page, as well as Instagram and Twitter by finding @slaxsonMTB.



 

Here's the anticipated line-up for 2016.  I'll have my work cut out for me to offset this carbon footprint! 

Looking ahead to 2016.  On the start line at the 2015 World Championships in Andorra.

And a few more parting shots from the off season:

There won't ever be another off season like this one, married, first-time homeowner.  Along with it, I enjoyed building a new work bench for the garage using a giant slab of 600-year-old Douglas Fir that my dad and I harvested from a "hazard tree" several years ago.  I was thankful to have time on my side to do some great projects with Sarah to customize the new house.

Scouting new trail with the WMBC, catching sunrise in the woods, getting the hours in the legs, heating up the map!

At home in the woods...somewhere near Bellingham

Thanks for reading.