Jim: Friday Mornin' Comin' Down...

I missed the muffin ride this morning. I had this appointment with the local dentist who promises "Pain Free Dentistry." That's like promising "Guilt-Free Catholicism," or "Easy Hill Climbs." It seems to me that some essential element of dentistry would be missing, were it not for pain.

I did squeeze in a short easy ride, however, just to limber up the legs after Wednesday's twin suffer fests, and to set the tone for Baker Park. As soon as it was light enough to see the road, I was circling the Crofton Parkway on my fixie. It was tough at first, the combination of the hill ride, the atmospheric condition (I gots the rheumatoids) and Greenbelt left me with IT band stiffness, probably from the maximum force efforts it takes to move my one eighth of a ton butt up the hills. Things loosened up after a lap or two and eventually the pain went away, and then it was just me and the bike for 45 minutes or so. The Parkway was repaved a few months ago and the tarmac surface is smooth enough to putt on; I'd guess there are many velodrome surfaces that are not as smooth. The outer loop is just under four miles, with a couple short hills, a long uphill false flat, a short, sharp downhill, and a long downhill false flat. On the fixie, which is set up at 44:18 right now, or 66 gear inches, the two hills go easier as high tempo standing climbs. Fixed gears being what they are - they only really go at one speed mainly - this means that each lap has a long period in low recovery zone Hr, a long period in low to mid- aerobic zone, and two short periods where the Hr reaches tempo. A perfect warmup ride in other words. I did about 48 minutes at 18 MPH, with the heartrate primarily in zone 1 and 2 if you're a Friel fan, recovery and aerobic if you like Wenzel; not breathing hard, and breathing just a little if you are a casual cyclist.

It's a really sublime ride because a fixed gear drivetrain makes no noise at all if you are pedaling properly, there's just a smooth "whoosh" of the tires whispering to you as you try to slip into the most comfortable rhythm you can find. I understand why some ultramarathon cyclists are big fixed gear fans, because it is a barefoot toes-in-the- warm-dirt-I-date-a- hippie-chick-and-drink -lots-of-wine kind of experience to ride fixed. Today it was 54 degrees, the sun just rising over one of the two hills, with a slight mist and the slightly electric post-thunderstorm freshness in the air. With the wonderful conditions, smooth road and whispering bike, it only took about two laps for me to get into that zen state where you just go along, totally unconscious of your progress and your effort. The only thing that might have made it better was having 30 of my best friends in light blue riding with me on the way out to the local coffee shop for muffins... but even that may not have improved the ride, and might even have wrecked the vibe. Sometimes the best ride is one you take in stolen moments, by yourself, wedged in between obligations and appointments and duties. This was one of those times - just brain off, legs on, relax.

After riding for a while, I came back into touch with the rest of the world, realized I'd ridden about 14 miles, 48 minutes or so, and it was time to get cleaned up and go to the dentist. It felt like I'd been meditating, and even now, a couple hours later, it feels like I just spent a weekend at a spa. Some days, riding the bike is hell. On the rivet? More like sitting atop the pike. Other days, going for a ride just fixes what ails ya. Today was one of those good days, and I'm really looking forward to riding two Baker Park crits tomorrow. I'm told the course is technical, flat and fast, so it should suit me. We'll see.

Now for the funny stuff. I just went to the dentist for a checkup, but my upper left teeth have been bothering me. I've read stories about riders rotting their teeth out, having taking up biking only to find out that that constant supply of carbs tends to be sugary and rot-inducing. Since I pound roughly three bottles of sports drink per race, two per training ride, and basically eat all the things that made Dr. Atkins cry, I was worried. After the usual X-rays, as the doc was digging around in my gums with a Warsaw Pact-vintage torture device, he asked if I was having any problems. I told him about the pain. He asked if I ever clenched my teeth. I thought for a second. "Five times, for 6 minutes on Mondays. Four or five times for 6 to seven minutes on Wednesdays. Then typically for about 25 minutes on Saturdays."

This drew a really weird look. I explained that when I'm doing a really focused workout on the bike or racing, I think I might be clenching my teeth a bit. "Oh," he said. "I've heard about that." Anyhow, my teeth are magnificent (to the extent my Scots Irish ethnic heritage permits it), sugary drinks weren't behind the problem, an uncooperative crown that isn't much of a team player was causing the trouble. It seems that when you clench your teeth a lot, your teeth make "micro-adjustments." They move a bit to compensate for the stress. The problem is when you have a crown, the tooth doesn't flex, and doesn't adjust as well. So while my other teeth were moving around, the non-team playing, destructive, complaining tooth with a crown - the Vinokourov of my teeth - was refusing to play well with the others and was in fact crushing a couple of the teeth on top. Two minutes with an angle grinder later, the crown was reshaped a bit on top and shortened so it only just touched the uppers, all the the choppers were re-aligned, and all was well in the world. Let's see you cephalopods do that!

But now my mouth feels weird because it doesn't hurt any more, and I'm starting to get really nervous that the teeth are going to start shifting around like crazy, now that the Tooth Captain, who was bullying them before has been cut down to size. And you want to know the weird thing. I told the doc "I'm going to try to stop clenching my teeth on the hills and doing intervals. It's probably inefficient anyhow." Then he says "No, don't do that. Your teeth might start moving again. I want you to clench your teeth, if that's what you do."

This explains a lot about my riding and fitness. I take psychiatric advice from 32 year-old fixed gear bike, and bicycle training advice from a dentist. Coming tomorrow: my barber gives me some hot stock tips.