Under 30 Days

Yep, that's right.  I have less than 30 days remaining here in Iraq.  I can't tell you exactly how many, but it is under 30.  I am very excited.

We are packing up.  Printers that don't really need to be used every day are going into a connex.  Rooms are being packed up and things are getting shipped home.  I have a room full of boxes that I need to take to the post office.  One nice thing about living in Germany is that to ship a box home to myself it costs nothing at all.  No, really.  It stays in the Army system so there is not charge, unless, of course, you want insurance on that item.  Then, not only do you have to pay the insurance but you also have to pay shipping.  I have camera equipment and the like that I am sending insured mail.  Ok, so I had to pay for a few packages, not too shabby considering that I am sending 5-6 large foot lockers home for free.

So, anyhow, you should all think warm thoughts for me, and us.  We will be home soon, lets home it all goes without a hitch.

Night Ride!

I am going out on a night ride tonight. Ok, so it isn't the great fun that most people have on a night ride: the world turned a surreal imitation of itself through the tiny beam of light from your handlebar. New trails from old familiar ones. Animals peering at you, just a glimmer of their shining eyes the only clue that they are there. No, none of that for me.

It isn't a true night ride. In fact I barely need a light, though I will have one, if only to keep myself from being run over, the awesome 0.3 watt LED shining out for, hopefully, oncoming cars to wonder at until they get really close. But, it is a ride, at night. I have that going for me.

I wasn't supposed to ride tonight. I should have ridden this morning. This leads us to the lesson for the day.

If you set your alarm clock for 4:30 PM, it will not wake you up for your 5:00 AM ride. At least, not today's ride. Keep that in mind kiddies.

Like a gnat to a buffalo.

I almost got run over by a tank today.  Yea, a tank.  You know, those big squarish, 62 ton monsters that ruin the dreams of the enemies of the United States.  Yea, one of those.

It was a pretty tame ride up to that point.  I got spinning a bit later than normal, but that was OK, the training plan only called for an hour and I would be back in plenty of time to get a shower, a meal and a nap, in that order.  So a bit later than normal meant that it was getting light out.  I didn't need a light to see, I did need a light for others to see me.

I was slipping through the morning when I got on my third most unfavorite piece of road.  This is the road that leads to the Entry Control Point, i.e. the gate to get on and off the forward operating base I live on.  I hate this section because it is extremely dusty, and sometimes, dangerous.

So I turned the corner onto this section and ahead of me was a long line of stopped heavy trucks and Hummers coming in from a patrol.  All vehicles have to stop after coming in the gates so that they can unload and clear their weapons.   I stayed on my side of the road, they were going away from the gate, I was heading towards it and I knew it wouldn't be a problem.  I stayed alert though and looked up towards the gate as I heard a heavy clanking and a turbine.  "Ooh, tanks.  I like tanks!" I thought as I peered through the heavy dust up ahead.  

Seconds later, and only about 75 yards away there was indeed a tank.  Coming towards me.  Not slowing.  Driver still inside his hatch using his tiny viewing blocks to drive.  Not seeing me.  Not seeing me.  50 yards away.

I make the intelligent choice and dodge between two trucks that don't have their drivers reloaded yet and get off the road.  I figured that a big heavy truck between me and the tank was just what I needed.  I got off my bike and walked a bit all the while enduring confused stares from the Soldiers coming off patrol.

Getting hit by a tank.  Not recommended.  For me it would be catastrophic.  For the tank, well, that is where the title of this entry came from.

So it's been a year already huh?

Well, I have been here a year now.  Not exactly HERE as in Iraq, but I have been deployed into theater for exactly a year today, 6 September 2007.  

As many of you know we started our deployment by first deploying to Kuwait.  While there we were supposed to do three weeks of training before moving on to Balad, Iraq a place I am already intimately familiar with since I already spent 12 months there in 2004-2005.  As it turned out we didn't do that.  Another unit was selected for that mission due to their organizational similarities to the outgoing unit.  That all made sense but what didn't make sense was that my brigade, which had deployed sooner, was staying while another brigade was already moving into Iraq.  

To see why this is a problem you have to know a bit about Camp Buehring, Kuwait.  Let me sum it up with this simple phrase:  We would rather be in combat in Iraq than in Camp Buehring, Kuwait.  Yea, its that bad.

We finally got orders to replace the 2nd Brigade of the 1st Armored Division and I arrived in Iraq on or about 1 November.  So, no, I haven't been in Iraq for a year yet and in fact once I do leave I will have only been in Iraq for a few weeks over the 52 that encompass a year, but still, I have been deployed now for a year.

On another note, I left work a little early last night with the intention of going out and getting in a quick bike ride.  Gale force winds put an end to that idea.  Always nice to see armored vehicles getting blown off of roads by the wind.  I don't think that riding is such a good idea when that happens.  I only survived the walk to my room because I put sand in my pockets after dinner.  Oh, yea, and I had a piece of cake.  I am sure that helped too.

It's Almost Easy to Forget Where you Are.

A nearly unprecedented thing happened this morning. I woke up 15 minutes before my alarm went off and actually got up. It was strange that I had woken up this morning, after all, it was only 4:45 and I hadn’t managed to fall asleep until after midnight. I used the opportunity to wolf down some Clif Shot Blocks and drink some water.

It was easy to get out for my ride this morning. All of my clothes were already laid out, my water bottles were filled and ready to go, I had already changed out the lenses on my sunglasses, and my lights were mounted, and fully charged. The only hitch that I had was getting my heart rate monitor tracking.

After warming up and stretching out I got on the road about 5:15. At that time the sunrise is still about an hour away and on this particular morning the nearly full moon had set several hours earlier. Those of you who have ridden a bike in the dark know who I was feeling. My entire world was reduced to what was visible inside the small cone of dim light coming from my handlebar.

I was alone save for the unseen but ever present bats swooping constantly above me and the occasional bus rumbling by me taking workers to dining facilities, construction yards, or guard posts.

I rolled on silently, listening to the sounds of the night interrupted only by the crunch of sand under my wheels and the swish of my shorts on the saddle.

That’s when it happened.

Within that fairly confined world that consisted simply of the sounds around me and the relatively small area encompassed by my light, I forgot where I was.

I was just happy to be outside, flying along under my own power. It was wonderful.

As you might imagine, this didn’t last long. In no time I was within a stones throw of the outer perimeter. The yellow-orange lights illuminating the concertina wire-topped wall. These blooming, necessary evils adding to the tiny sliver that had been my world just moments before.

The quiet crunch of my tires was eventually overwhelmed by the diesel roar of heavy trucks, the unmistakable clank and squeal of tracked infantry fighting vehicles, and the strangely beautiful and comforting banshee scream of an M1 Abrams tank engine at idle.

The illusion was shattered. I knew, I felt, and I could see, in stark relief where and when I was.

You know what though, it didn’t matter.

I was just happy to be outside, flying along under my own power. It was wonderful.

Base 1

So I'm going to start training tomorrow. I know that this begs the question, "Training for what?" Unfortunately I don't really know how to answer that.

There is a process to planning a racing season. I learned it from the book The Mountain Biker's Training Bible by Joe Friel. The first step is to do a self assessment and then clearly identify your goals for the season. Then you identify they key races that you want/need to do well in in order to achieve your goals for the season. You then set up your training plan so that you "Peak" for those key races. You then work backwards defining the other periods of the training plan. Those periods are Base, Build, Peak, and Transition.

Tomorrow I start the Base 1 period. For those of you familiar with this methodology, you probably recognize that it is probably too early to start Base 1. I agree. On the other hand, I am in such terrible riding shape that I am going to do the 4 weeks of Base 1 twice and the 4 weeks of Base 2 twice. That will give me plenty of time to build a good solid aerobic base before I get into the three Build phases right before I peak for my first "A Category" race the week of 24 March.

This of course begs the question, "Which race is that?" The answer to that is, of course, "I have no idea." Not to mention that much of the month of March I am going to be... Well, I have no idea what the month of march holds for me. The other problem is that most race series calendars have not yet been published. Heck, most of them are just finishing up, they have barely begun to think about the next races. I suspect that I will be racing in Arizona or Utah during that time. Most races in Colorado don't start until much later in the year. In fact, I am pretty sure that most people in Colorado are still skiing during that time.

So, Base 1. Tomorrow. Needless to say, I am a bit excited. Might as well get in as much training as I can before I end up back in Germany freezing my, uhh, toes off.

Two good rides

I had two good rides in the past two days. Sunday isn't a normal riding day for Keith and I but since one of us wimped out on Friday and the other wimped out on Saturday we both had fresh legs. We decided to take a long ride at a pretty high speed.

We started out at a pretty good clip, a few miles per hour faster than normal and just started to spin. It felt great to be out on the bike. We noticed that there was some wind but didn't think about it much. We got to the half-way point when we noticed something: there was a LOT of wind. It felt like a summo wrestler's hand on my chest.

The problem with wind is that when it is a tail wind, you go slightly faster, but when it is a head wind you go much slower. We traveled into the wind for the last hour of our ride sucking the whole way. It honestly felt like we were going up hill the whole time. Of course that didn't stop us from occasionally turning directly into the wind, going up a hill and speeding up. Not sure why that happened but it hurt, a lot.

We got back and I wobbled to my room. Good ride. I haven't downloaded the data yet but I expect that my heartrate was in the 85-90% the entire time.

This morning's ride was supposed to be a short 15 mile spin at a nice low heart rate to recover from yesterday. That didn't happen. Not sure why but next thing I know, Keith and I are huffing and puffing, up a hill, into a wind, at a higher speed than we had been a few seconds before.

The conversation a few seconds later went like this:

ME: "Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?"
KEITH: "Dunno, must be your fault."

We took Lance with us today too. He can outrun the hell out of both Keith and I but we definitely have him once we get on a bike. Lance made an epic effort towards the end of the ride. He closed a 600m gap on a rough section of road. We didn't slow down, he just closed up the gap. And then it looked like he grabbed two handfuls of brakes and stopped. "Yep, that was all I had. Couldn't stay with you once I got up to you." Still, an awesome effort. It scares me, if he keeps riding with us, he is going to start stomping us.

I must find more things for him to do...

I saw something that scared me today.

Clouds.

No seriously, they scare the crap out of me! I looked up this morning and I saw a bunch of clouds. The problem with clouds around here is that with clouds you get humidity. Most of you deal with humidity every day and know that it can make a warm day downright nasty. An 85 degree day with 85% humidity, is just not nice. I know this.

Today we had about 85% humidity. The high temperature hit 118.

I can deal with hot, but if you add clouds, it's just brutal.

A ride full of beautiful sights, almost perfect...

Keith and I set off just after 0530 this morning. We decided to ride far and fast today. We had both taken two days off and had fresh legs.

It was about twenty minutes before the sun rose and still fairly dark, but not too dark. We both rode without lights and with our sunglasses stowed. We started spinning down the road in front of the headquarters, dodging potholes and armored vehicles and cutting through road construction detours.

As we rode along and over canals, black forms swooped incessantly overhead. They were the barely seen outline of a hundred bats scooping up the bugs that habitually hover above the water only water source for miles.

On our right a nearly full moon greeted us blinking balefully through the occasional tree, obscured occasionally by the thrown up dust of a passing vehicle. This moon was tired and dropping rapidly, yellowing and fading as it dipped towards a hazy, dirty horizon chased by the magnificent view on our left.

On our left were the quickly retreating deep purples and reds that signal the coming of the sun. Every moment led to a brighter one and soon the glasses returned to their rightful perch on our noses, as much to protect from the sun as from the flying dust and stones. Before long, and entirely too soon, the sun peaked over the horizon, barely visible. The haze that had covered the moon also proved a worthy adversary to the rising sun.

We were treated to the sight of the sun’s battle with the haze as we had turned east after completing the entire north to south leg of the Victory Base Complex in Baghdad, Iraq. Today’s ride was the first time I had tried to circumvent the entire complex. Keith had done it a week earlier without me and I had labored to convince him to do it again, not because of the difficulty of the ride but because of the poor quality of the road. We had only been riding for twenty minutes and both of our faces were already grimy from the flying dust and our hands tingled slightly from riding roads that closely resembled washboards.

As we got into the more populated portions of the complex we came upon a lake we had both ridden around ten or more times. Today we hit the lake at the perfect time. The sun had finally broken free of its bonds and was shining full strength at an almost perfect horizontal. The light illuminated several of the buildings in the center of a palace complex surrounding the free-form man-made lake. The light was fantastic, with great reflections from the lake, and highlights that clearly showed the intricate stone work on the edifices of the buildings and casting intricate shadows as it played across the “floating oases” randomly strewn throughout the lake.

We continued to ride past these sights passing runners and other cyclists, getting looks and exclamations as we scared pedestrians unaware of us due to our rapid progress. The temperature continued to rise, as did the pace. We maintained a pace that four miles into the ride I was sure I could only maintain for another few minutes. We ended up doing 26 miles in a bit over an hour and a half. I finished tired but extremely happy and I gobbled hydration drinks to replenish the lost water and the lost salt that was still encrusted on the sides of my face.

The best part about this ride was the pictures. The pictures I took are fantastic and I would love to share them with you but I can’t. The pictures are only in my mind. My point and shoot camera crapped out unexpectedly a few days ago.

So, like the title says, “almost perfect.” It only could have been better if I could have shared the pictures. Ah well, at least Keith has the same photos I do, I will share with him.

I took a nice cool shower today...

Ok, so two of those three aren't true. I'll let you guess and I will give you a hint: I took a shower.

It was neither nice, nor was it cool.

I went for a nice long bike ride this morning. After the ride, I gathered up my towel and headed off to the shower trailer. I turned on the cold water and let it run for a second. I turned off the cold water and turned on the hot water thinking that this might be one of those showers where the pipes were hooked up in reverse with the hot on the cold side and the cold on the hot side. I thought this because there is no was way that the water coming out when I turned on the "cold" faucet was actually anything even vaguely resembling "cold".

The water for the showers is stored in big tanks out in the open and the water is piped in to the shower trailer. Lets do some math. If the water is stored in outdoor containers in the sun and the outside temperature is 112 degrees for at least 16 hours a day and the lowest ambient temberature is 85 degrees, what is the lowest possible temperature that the water can get to after a full night when I am hot and sweaty and ready to take a shower?

If you worked this out, I believe the answer you would come up with is: this place sucks.

So here's a problem that most people will never have to deal with. There was no cold water today. Neat.