The injuries from Chris Horner's violent crash in last month's Tour de France continue to surface. Although Horner's most obvious trauma following the crash appeared to be a concussion, he can now add a blood clot to the growing list of injuries.
As I sit here with a chipped tooth – the bizarre souvenir from a group road ride a few days ago when a rock shot out from under another rider's rear tire like a BB and nailed my front tooth – and having religiously watched this year's Tour de France, which was rife with an outrageous number of crashes, I can't help but think of the risk-versus-reward element of playing outside.
While the pros get paid to take those risks, it's still difficult to watch them suffer catastrophes like Chris Horner's serious crash in Stage 7 of this year's Tour de France, which forced him to abandon the race for which he trained diligently and smartly. Another, particularly acute incident for many cyclists, given our primal fear of cars, was the horrific crash during Stage 9 that occurred when the driver of a media vehicle swerved into a rider, who collided with another rider as he tumbled across the pavement. In both cases, the riders remounted despite significant injuries and finished the stage.
The phone at 900 Wall began ringing in April with people eager to make reservations for Saturday, July 23. They were staking a claim on elegant front-row seats for the Cascade Cycling Classic criterium races that will take place that afternoon and evening. The restaurant, like many others downtown, adds outdoor tables for the race, and is now completely booked, mostly with Bendites.
“It's a fun event,” says 900 Wall's Mike Millette. “It brings in a lot more locals than other events.”
Zydeco actually limits the length of time people can sit on the patio during the race due to demand for tables. “People will camp out there all night,” explains Manager Brian Bellew. “It's a great event. If we could, we'd put rows of seating out there.”
It's a good time of year to be a cyclist in Central Oregon. The trails at higher elevation are opening up, with snow giving way to wildflowers, offering riders room to spread out on singletrack less seen. After a long winter, and an even longer spring, the roads now beckon with the promise of endless, sun-drenched miles and beautiful summertime vistas. We can vicariously enjoy the Tour de France, which is televised multiple times daily for almost an entire month, and root for hometown boy Chris Horner. Sweet.
And last weekend's ride on McKenzie Pass was pure bike bliss, not so much due to my own experience, but because of the display of hundreds of cyclists paying homage to one of our most notable routes. The informal pilgrimage of riders churning up the car-free road took on a celebratory air, and almost qualified as a flash mob on wheels, as cyclists relished the complete ownership of a beautiful piece of road. Not to be elitist, but what if McKenzie Pass were closed to motorized vehicles?
My dad was an old school bike racer who didn't really get too excited before a race. He wasn't terribly organized, frequently arrived late, yet somehow everything came together and he pulled off some amazing finishes with relatively little preparation. Not all racers enjoy that kind of pre-race spontaneity; many of us pack and repack our bags, checking and double-checking our gear to make sure it's ready. Maybe you're the kind of racer who recons the course, and likes to anticipate all scenarios so there aren't any surprises. If so, the Oyster Off Road Adventure Race probably isn't your cup of tea.
Participants don't find out where they're going – or how they'll get there – until the morning of the race when they receive their first “passport.”
“It's definitely a race unlike the other typical races you've done before,” says Emily Salberg, one of the Oyster Series producers. “The element of surprise is something our racers come back for year after year.”
Perhaps the Central Oregon climate is one ingredient that makes its athletes tougher, both mentally and physically, in the same way that adversity builds character. Training through our winters isn’t too difficult, especially if you like winter sports that provide good cross training for your primary one.
If you're a Bend bike racer of any ilk, by the time Memorial Day dawns, you'll have earned at least one grilled bratwurst and a beer. With three bicycle races over the holiday weekend in Central Oregon, local competitive cyclists will have a choice of which hurt locker to enter without having to travel far from home. Meaning no excuses, no epic excursions over the Cascades to get your competitive groove on. It's going down here.
And, come Monday, depending on how many races you've done, you can down multiple brats and brewskis with no guilt, all the while flexing your awesome quads.
It's a beautiful, unseasonably warm Saturday in Bend. I have a paid baby sitter entertaining my two minis so I can ride as long as I want. Although it's gusty, I've opted for a trail ride, and feel smart as I imagine my husband and his pals riding their road bikes on the open, windswept roads east of Bend.
I ride C.O.D., which is reportedly in good shape compared to some of the other trails in Phil's, and as I ride under the rock outcroppings I think of mountain lions. For some reason that trail, more than others, makes me aware of my appeal as a tasty snack for a big kitty.
I push the thought from my mind, as I always do, and had a great ride up to Storm King. Coming back down, I clear some tricky sections and, feeling pretty darn sassy, decide to add a loop and extend my saddle time. I'm cruising on fast, tacky single track when a couple of animals jump from the brush onto the trail in front of me.
The annual Cascade Chainbreaker mountain bike race is perhaps best known for providing a passport to forbidden fruit: private land, almost 33,000 acres of it, riddled with single track. Like Willy Wonka opening the factory gates, the Chainbreaker has effectively served as the single track equivalent of the Golden Ticket, providing participants with access to fantastic and isolated trail.
What many people don't know is they can go there anytime they like, at least during spring, summer and fall. But they might want to bring a topographical map, a compass and a strong sense of direction. The Skyline Forest, as it's now referred to, encompasses almost 50 square miles of undeveloped land northwest of Bend. Historically known as the Bull Springs Tree Farm, this huge chunk of land is the prize in a slow-developing transaction between the Deschutes Land Trust and the property's owner, Cascade Timberlands, LLC.
Like a snowball rolling downhill, the energy surrounding last week's cyclocross nationals grew bigger and bigger, culminating in an estimated 10,000 spectators for Sunday's races. The combination of tough racing and effervescent parties uniquely showcased Bend as a work hard, play hard kind of town, and has set the standard for other host cities.
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