Working in Dutch Land

By moving to Europe, I was of course expecting to have an “international work experience” – Little did I know just how international it would be! Our office is located in Amsterdam, so of course we are surrounded by the Dutch culture (and its interesting idiosyncrancies, but I’ll get to that later). Our department serves as the financial “support team” for ING’s Central Europe Region, which includes: Spain, Greece, Poland, Romania, Bulgaria, Czech & Slovakia, Hungary, and Russia. In our department of only 30 people, there are 13 different nationalities represented!, including Hungarian, Greek, Australian, Indian, Romania, etc., and of course American (me and one other). So, obviously there is always a chance to be around people who see things from a different perspective, and to learn about how people do things in different parts of the world.

I feel very fortunate that English is my first language (ok, my only one!), since it’s already a challenge to explain things like market consistent embedded value without having to translate it at the same time. I’ve been working on several projects which are in some ways similar to what I have done in the past (e.g. embedded value, financial projections, product development). Of course, the approaches are different in many ways, and the markets are very different as well. But many of the same issues still apply, such as having to predict financial results more often and more accurately (at this rate we’ll be moving to daily financial reporting before too long!), and developing new products better and faster.

So, what about the Dutch traditions… There are so many little differences that every day something comes up - such as just saying something a different way (instead of telling someone “Good luck” when they’re getting ready to try something challenging, they say: “Success!”) – So I have decided to make a “Top Ten” list of my fave (or at least most interesting) things about Dutch office culture to share with you:

Number 10: In the office, the custom is that when you want a cup of coffee, instead of getting up to get one for yourself, you ask all your colleagues whether they would like any coffee or tea (there is a machine where it is free on each floor). Each person specifies whether they’d like coffee with cream, or maybe a cappuccino with sugar, or extra strong espresso, or some tea extra-mild… and you get to test your memory to remember these details as you head to the machine with a tray to carry the cups back. Then the real test is when you get back to your desk, you have to remember who ordered what as well as recognize each drink on your tray!

Number 9: The office work area is representative of Europe in general – lots of people in a small space. As a result, there are very few separate offices, which are occupied by only the most senior people, and more often than not are shared between at least two people. Most workers sit out in the open, at folding tables – no cubicles, no separators of any kind. It definitely is a test of one’s concentration skills (at least mine), trying to work with people talking all around! But it also is nice at times for supporting a “team” feel when you really need to work together.Number 8: A common phrase (translated from Dutch) is: “The Final Word Has Not Been Spoken”, referring to the fact that an issue is still being discussed (and discussed and discussed…). It is common for a topic to be covered from every angle very thoroughly, with each person’s opinion fully expressed and considered. This is also referred to as the “Polder Model”, as an example of how their focus on reaching consensus works successfully, as poldering is the process of creating land space by building dikes to hold back the water (and they obviously have done a very successful job of that!). In short, it can make for some painfully long meetings.

Number 7: After the Christmas and New Year holiday time, when each person returns to the office, they walk around the department and greet each other person in the department with the traditional three kisses (alternating cheeks), and ask about how their holidays were, etc…. This can take 10 minutes or more per person in the department, but it is considered very important. Needless to say not much work gets done during that first day back from the holidays!

Number 6: Let’s imagine it’s morning and you’re standing in an elevator full of other workers traveling to their work floors… When the elevator stops and the doors open for someone to get off, you hear them say “Eaaaggghh” as they leave, and you think: “Wow, they really don’t sound very excited about getting ready to work”, and then the elevator stops at the next floor and the person leaving says it again: “Eaaaggghhh”. What’s this about? Are people already stressed out about their day before it even really starts?? Well they’re actually saying “Dag”, which means “good day” (be sure not to face them or you’ll have spit in your eye!).

Number 5: Lunch time is always exactly at noon, and everyone always goes to the cafeteria together at the same time -- Even though the elevators take longer and the lunch lines are longer because everyone goes then. Even though you look at your colleagues for 9+ hours each day (since as I mentioned there are no walls between you), you also get to look at them every day at lunchtime too!

Number 4: Typical Dutch lunch consists of the following: 6 slices of bread, a small pad of butter, 1 slice of cheese, 1 tube of some type of meat spread that you really don’t want to ask what kind it is, and one box of chocolate sprinkles (kind of like the ones you might put on cupcakes in the U.S.). You make 3 sandwiches, each of which have butter and only one of each of the other ingredients, and you eat them with knife and fork. Sometimes you substitute a slice of meat for the meat paste. But you never, never combine the cheese and meat. If you ever see a sandwich like that, it is referred to as a “luxury sandwich”. You eat the sandwich with the butter and chocolate sprinkles last, with some yogurt, followed up by a huge glass of milk, juice, or karnemilk (a thick pasty-like milk similar to buttermilk). Mmm,mmm! (or as they would say, “Lekker!”)

Number 3: Birthdays are very important and celebrated by everyone. When it is someone’s birthday, the tradition is that the person having the birthday brings mini-cakes for everyone in the department.(At least this way the birthday person gets the kind of cake they want!) Each person in the department goes up to the birthday person and sincerely congratulates that person, while shaking their hand or exchanging the traditional three alternating-cheek kisses. It is very much acceptable to discuss age (which is even included on people’s resumes, along with their marital status and sometimes even the ages of their children!).

Number 2: The office is virtually paperless – No one has drawers, cabinets, or shelves to keep files or binders. The only thing we each have is a small locker with a metal briefcase, in which is stored our laptop overnight. There is enough room leftover for maybe three very thin files of just a few papers. It definitely teaches one how to avoid printing items and keep it all organized electronically. But it also seems extreme sometimes – There’s not even a drawer where we can each keep things like pens!

Number 1: Biking to and from work, in a suit/skirt and heels! Or biking to buy groceries or pick up the dry cleaning. Biking all the time, everywhere! (see separate blogs from Jeff and pictures on this) It is hard to believe just how many bikes there are here. You can literally bike anywhere in the entire country and be on a bike path, trail, or lane 99.9% of the time. The bike garage at work is always full. How can we spread this mentality to the U.S.? It makes getting to and from work every day a little more fun!

Creative Climbing

Training for one of the hilliest 1-day multi-sport races in the world while living in the flattest country in the world is .... well, paradoxical to say the least. Perhaps it's the isolation from hill country that makes this hillseeker yearn for the impractical. To make up for not having the Eiger (or the North Georgia Gaps or Denver's Deer Creek Canyon) in my backyard, I've been forced to enter the realm of creative hill training. Here's what I've invented thus far:

Col du Stairs

• I'm fortunate to work in a building with 17 floors. I made the mistake of mentioning this to Coach Lisa when we started to design my training program. My first 20-minute stair run was TOUGH in a "why on earth would I intentionally subject myself to this insanity" kind of way. My heart-rate went from 70 to 170 in the first five steps -- 1 flight in and I was almost at max heart rate. Six flights up and I was cursing my training directions that said "keep your head up and spring off each step". Yeah, how about I keep my head in my gut and use the rail to hold my weight while I slowly drag each foot up a step. With time though, things improved and now it takes at least a flight and a half to get to max heart rate!
  
• Stair machine ... oh , how I can't stand the stair machine. First, it's got the word "stair" in it. That's just not a value-add word and doesn't conjure up the goose bumps on my skin like the words "peak", "summit", and "drinking wine while looking out over a glacier in a desolate Alaska national park". Second, it's a machine that has no bling value -- no titanium, no carbon fiber, no aerodynamic properties -- just a blocky, dull-looking machine. Third (and perhaps the biggest issue I have with it), it's tied to the indoors. If I could take the stair machine for a run through the forest, I'd have found a winning formula. Anyway, once a week, I have to will myself to stand in place in the gym (usually when the weather is stellar and everybody is outside except for me) stepping up and down, up and down, boring, yawn.
  

Wind-climbing

• What the Netherlands lacks in hills, she makes up for in wind. It's that in-your-face kind of wind that never seems to pause to catch it's breath --- "blow, blow, blow (ha-ha!) blow .. I'm still blowing while I'm talking to you ... blow ... I'm mocking you Mr. cyclist on your aero bars trying to escape me ... blow ... oh, you think you can tuck in and hide from me .... blow ... how about this ... blow ... from the side and the front ... blow". The downside is that it simulates a mind-numbing (and annoying) 2% incline. Enough to notice and to create a pace that doesn't seem slow enough to count as climbing, but doesn't seem fast enough to deserve credit for an athletic cycling experience. And there's just something about mountain views that makes real climbing so spectacular. Wind-climbing is mental, oh yes, very mental.
  
• Wind-climbing is taken to a whole new level when I'm on my SUV bike. That mega basket on the front (the milk crate that weighs more than my road frame) is the ultimate wind catcher. On rides home from work I've literally been stopped in my tracks by gusts of wind that seem to grab that basket in a dozen spots and hold on for dear life trying to throw me over the handlebars. At times like that, I try to bend over to become more aero, but that's like hiding behind a 4x8 sheet of plywood that you're pushing into the wind. It's just no use. Fortunately, when it's windy like this, it's also usually raining. I actually love it when the weather reaches a point that it's so bad that it's just laughable. I've had more than a few nights riding home in the dark, in a nice suit, in a rain and wind storm -- just laughing a mad scientist's laugh!
  

e-climbing

• Tacx trainer. Here's where we get to the Cool factor (bring on the gadgets!). I learned about the Dutch company Tacx a couple years before I had any idea I'd be living in Europe for a while. I looked them up once I got settled here and jumped on the chance to bring the French Alps into my living room. Tacx has created a very cool PC program that is integrated with what looks like a typical wind trainer. It's far from typical though. I'll save the description of this fine gadgetry for their own website, but what I will mention is that it allows you to bike inside with your performance synchronized with real life video of some of the most famous cycling routes in the world. While you're taking in great scenery (and hurting on 10%+ inclines), you get all kinds of data on the screen -- which tech-heads like me really enjoy (like heart rate, wattage, % incline, cadence, etc.). Having now suffered through ... I mean enjoyed ... multi-hour indoor climbing sessions on the bike, I can say that it's possible to bike the big mountains (e-mountains) while confined to the flats of Amsterdam.
  

Travel-climbing

• Perhaps this is cheating, but the final way I've found to get in hill-training is to go to the hills. I've already mentioned our train time in visiting the southern part of the Netherlands and Belgium. With most of Europe within two hours of flying, we were able to escape to Girona for early season hills and recently we snuck away to France for our first riding in the Alps (future posting) and to Switzerland for mountain running (and more gawking at stunning peaks). While we're getting bored with the flats of Amsterdam, we're very happy to be really close by air to some of the best cycling in the world!
  

A final note ... a few weeks ago, I had my first (and hopefully last) injury in preparing for this race. It led to a few days off from training and a week of frustrating deviations from my planning routine. Want to know how it happened? Remember that huge bike lock that I described in My New SUV. Well, I did a big 5 minute ride on my city bike to the train station, hefted that mega lock out of my panniers, bent down to lock the bike, and bam -- out went my back. Reminds me of my "stupid injuries" post from a few years ago -- well, that's another one to add to the list!

Thanks for reading,
Jeff

Dutch Mountains

When we first moved here, I actually wondered if there were any organized bike rides in Holland -- like the "pay $15 and get a t-shirt" century rides in the U.S. I should have known better -- I really should have, but I didn't, so I continued to wonder and searched the web for months. By late winter, we stumbled across the amateur version of the Amstel Gold Race. It's based on a famous pro race that's known for its brutality -- as Discovery team's Demol said "it's a [bleep] course with a thousand turns". So, during our short winter days, we learned of this amateur performance event' (as the website called it) and I practiced my skill of quickly signing up for events without thinking through the ramifications.

Before we get too far into discussing the Amstel Gold and other organized rides, I would like to formally declare that yes, the Netherlands does have hills. It's just that they're all in the tiny southern tip, practically in the fanny pack of Belgium. (By the way, I struggled over how to make this literary connection to Belgium. You see, I am the holder of a Dutch residence card, so I really owe it to my host country to poke fun at the Belgians at every opportunity. The problem is ... Belgium rocks. Great cycling, great beer, great chocolate, and every single time I've been in Belgium, the sun has been shining. So, that's why I picked fanny pack. It's such an odd metaphor that I'm hoping that it straddles the fence nicely). So, yes, declaration made ... the Dutch can indeed claim hills and the part of the Netherlands that we've now fallen in love with is referred to as Limburg.

Back to the story: We had a fantastic time on that inaugural ride -- getting in a huge day of cycling with great weather. We also enjoyed watching the pros take on the course the following day. It was one of those "don't pinch me, because if I'm dreaming, I want to keep on dreaming" weekends! Since discovering Limburg during the Amstel Gold, we've gone back several times to participate in organized rides, such as the Steven Rooks Classic and Limburg's Mooiste (mooiste means beautiful in Dutch), and also to train on our own or with groups of friends (including the great group that invited us to ride the M&M (Melick, Maastricht, Melick Ride)).

Here are some of our top experiences of cycling in Dutch hill country

Insane climbs: One minute you're cycling past cows on easy terrain, the next you're on a 20% incline. The road has suddenly narrowed. There is no shoulder. On both sides of the road, there is either barbed-wire fence (there's no space to waste here!) or a row of trees. Despite the starting field of riders spread out several hours, it's shoulder-to-shoulder cycling (3-Wide in Nascar speak, although I'm not sure why I know this term and why I would mention Nascar on my blog). It's so steep that people are falling over -- stopping dead in their tracks. There is no room to maneuver. You can barely turn the pedals over -- it really hurts, but it's a beautiful pain. It's raw cycling. It's what you always envisioned when you heard about the European Spring Classics (Paris-Roubaix, Tour de Flanders, etc.). Your heart rate is at it's max, you see signs painted on the road for the pro-race. You give it every ounce of energy, like your faux-career as a pro racer depends on your ability to attack on this climb. Oh no, a cyclist stops right in front of you -- lean to the left, scrape against a tree, balance, balance, shift to an easier gear that's not there (the dud-shift), push it, now you're making contact with the guy to your right, step on the pedals, this is your moment. You're foaming at the mouth, you've got that fixed, but cloudy gaze in your eyes and you drain all of your reserves with no thoughts of the consequences. You top out in only a few minutes, have 5 minutes to recover and then you do it all over again.

My problem is that I'm always so happy to see hills that I attack every single one of them -- they're rarely longer than a mile and usually around 1/4-1/2 mile, but there are so many of them that these relentless attacks take their toll and you end each cycling day completely exhausted. Hill after hill after hill. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Paint-by ... I mean Ride-by-numbers:

They've got this great bike route system in the Netherlands -- all over the country. It really shines in Limburg though. You see, they've planned a web of routes, placed numbers at nearly every major intersection, and placed permanents map boards all over the place. These map boards show you your current location (with a reference number "We're at number 54") and arrows pointing to the next number(s). This allows you to make up major routes on the fly without fear of ever being lost. At any given moment, you just arrive at sign, check your locale, and head off in the direction of the next sign. Sometimes we'll plan a series of checkpoints -- ok, 54-55-58-36. Once we're at 36, we'll decide if we want to add a loop (that would be 35-25-19-18-36) or just follow the series of numbers to the closest train station for the ride back to Amsterdam. This is such a phenomenal system as seen by our American eyes. I would love to see something like this on our riding grounds back home. The sad thing is that in the best rural riding areas in the U.S., you have the kind of people who would quickly vandalize anything like this. That's really sad. I sure hope that changes some day, because such great cycling facilities encourage a happier and healthier lifestyle for an entire society. I have to be fair here though -- if you check out the picture to the left, you'll see that the numbers on the sign with arrows have been whited-out. It's not quite the bullet-holes vandalism you'd see in the American south, but it's still vandalism. People are people, I suppose, regardless of the flag that flies over their capital.

When a country gets their cycling infrastructure right, as the Netherlands has, you go out for a ride and you see so many different types of people in the outdoors, pursuing the same joy and health benefits. Even in hill country, it's not just the racers who are out. You see families out for a spin, the elderly (we've seen a fair share of 70- and 80-somethings gliding through the country-side), people in their Sunday best, people on mountain bikes, people riding to the local pub, people riding alongside someone on a horse, people on a city bike in street clothes riding up the finishing stretch of the Amstel Gold route moments before the pro riders come through ... all types and all situations.

In addition to the ride by numbers, keep in mind that whenever you're anywhere near a village or even a slight amount of traffic, you'll be on a dedicated bike path (a "fietspad" in Dutch) or in a dedicated bike lane. In the remote areas, you often lose the bike lane, but the cars just have such incredible respect for cyclists. It seems unreal. In the hundreds of miles I've logged in the Netherlands, I've never been honked at, had anything thrown at me ... never been yelled at, never been the object of obscene gestures, never been told to "buy a car" (my favorite redneck comment heard in the States). I've also never been offered cash or been handed a plate of warm brownies, so I suppose that there's still room for improvement!

Finish Line Beer: This experience brought tears to me eyes -- it really did. After 10 hard hours of riding at Limburg's Mooiste (the last 2 hours of which I was redlining the whole time), we arrived at a finish line, where I saw two scantily-clad young ladies holding trays of beer. You can hear the music now can't you -- I know you can! Right under the Finish Line banner, I was handed a cold beer. I've trekked to the beer tent after rides before, but to be handed a beer the moment you finish, oh, that's just very special.

So, yes, there are Dutch Mountains. It takes some effort to get to them if you're living in Amsterdam, but they're there for the discovery and along with them comes all the joys (and pain) of big mountain riding!

Cheers,
Jeff

Ride the train, berijd de trein.

As a prelude to our upcoming Dutch Mountains posting, I wanted to chat with you about train travel. Of course, as Americans, our prior experience with trains was little more than hearing freight trains in the distance on summer nights while playing kick-the-can as 7-year olds, waiting at the occasional train crossing when our handy short-cut was thwarted by loads of coal, chickens, and hobos headed for somewhere else , and watching toy trains chug through miniature landscapes ... past the depot, through the tunnel, oops the caboose just fell off and the dog just stepped on all the miniature people at the Depot. Yep, that and some flashbacks of old Western movies and of course, Blazing Saddles, represented our whole paradigm on trains until we moved to Europe.

To reach our favorite cycling destination in the Netherlands, we've been spending lots of time on trains and thus immersing ourselves in a very different transportation culture. This is quite a change from our "toss all the gear in the car and gas 'er up" mindset that we honed in the land of plenty (except for public transportation options, that is)! It requires a different preparation mindset and different expectations, but the rewards are outstanding and we get a double-bonus by being in a country with such a great cycling infrastructure. That is, we can count on never having a worry on getting to or from train stations purely by bike wherever we go in the Netherlands. There are special provisions for bikes everywhere -- on the trains, at the train stations, even on roadways fairly remote from major villages or cities.

These train trips start out as we navigate our road bikes through the streets of Amsterdam with a weekend's worth of belongings in backpacks. It's at this point that we really appreciate how well-oriented our city bikes are to uneven, cobbled road surfaces and heavy loads -- it's tough on the road bikes and we're always a bit nervous on our tiny-tired bikes as we weave our way along the canals and past the hoards of tourists to the train station! Twenty minutes later though, we're on a train with our bikes gliding through the flat countryside. It gives you a great feeling of self-reliance -- it's really liberating not to have to rely on a car and to achieve your travel objectives solely by bike and train.


We learned quickly that 1) you have to buy a separate ticket for your bike and 2) you have to board on one of the special cars with a bike sticker above the door. Now, the downside to #2 is that most people carting bikes on trains aren't carting around their fancy racing bike -- instead, they are carting around their daily driver ... their 1983 pickup truck of bikes ... their beater bike. And this is the part that makes me the most nervous and serves as fodder for the rest of this story. It always goes like this: the train pulls up. You spot the special bike sticker and as the train slows, you start walking toward it. The train keeps on moving though, so you walk and then start to run because now the special door is 100 yards away. You realize that the best bet would have been to stand still and wait for the next sticker. You finally make it to the door, carry the bikes up the steps into the train car, and place them oh, so carefully along the wall (in a special bike area). You line up the bikes for you and your traveling companions, brace them so they won't move an inch, triple-check to ensure that the cranks and skewers are aligned in such a way that no contact will be made .... no scratches on the carbon fiber surfaces, no scratches on the components, no inappropriate bike-to-bike contact. Then, you lock the bikes together just to make sure that should bandits storm the train with guns a blazin, bandanas covering their faces, and horses awaiting their getaway ... that they would have to take all the bikes together and not just one.

Seconds before the train pulls away, it always happens that someone shows up with the beater bike. You can see him coming ... it's happening in slow motion. You want to jump out of your seat and hit the button to close the door. You beg to hear the conductor's whistle signaling imminent departure, but alas, beater bike guy makes it on. You know it won't be pretty. You know that beater bike guy has no clue that instead of owning a car, you invested a car's worth of savings into a high-end bicycle. You stand up, to make your presence known and to make an awkward attempt to head-off the inappropriate bike-to-bike contact that's sure to happen. It's all happening in super slow motion, but you just can't seem to move quickly enough. You've ceased to breath because of the anxiety. Beater bike guy's basket nicks your saddle -- then, out comes the kick-stand. His jeans are making contact with your wheel -- what if something on his shoes snags my rear dérailleur and rips it off the bike?!!! Then, with the kickstand extended, you clue in on the impending lean. Mathematical calculations are whizzing trough your brain! Will it touch?!! Will it touch?!! What if the train lurches forward suddenly?

Beater bike guy leaves the bike in mid-lean and starts his walk into the main train cabin. His bike is in free-fall. The kickstand has yet to make contact with the ground. The handlebars are turning -- the basket is in full motion. The rear panniers are making their move toward your aero wheels. Your bladed spokes are cowering in fear. You try to reach for the beater bike, but you're not fast enough. It's all a blur -- not just a scratch, but a full disintegration of your carbon fiber frame flashes before your eyes. You envision spikes, blades, and big fangs extending from the beater bike and ravaging your beautiful frame -- your recreational art -- your prized steed that allows you to escape to a world of bliss. You envision millions of carbon fiber particles filling the air as your bike meets its end. Oh, the humanity, you think.

The train eases from the station as beater bike comes to rest. A stillness fills the air. Tears well up in your eyes -- just preparing themselves for escape should your frame have been damaged. You survey the situation -- taking it all in. No contact. No contact. Thank you, thank you, thank you ... no contact! Sweet, glorious music fills your mind.

For the next two hours though, you watch the bikes like a hawk. Every time the tracks shift, the bikes move and sway. You hope that the kickstand doesn't fail and allow 50 pounds of steel, rubber, and plastic to violate your prized ride. Finally, it's beater bike guy's stop. One last contact with his jeans -- one last bump of the saddle by his basket and it's over. Serenity -- sweet serenity. The bikes are alone as we complete the journey. They arrive damage-free and apart from the now expected and somewhat humorous anxiety, the trip is pleasant and just plain easy.


We exit the destination train station, toss on our backpacks, and mount our bikes. We experience our typical feeling of disorientation, find a map of the town (usually on a big sign that also shows the bike routes), and ease into a bike lane headed for our hotel or camp site. Sometimes it goes super-smoothly and sometimes our journeys are filled with multiple beater bike experiences and track repair work requiring multiple train changes and just a lot of hassle. I'd still much rather worry about a scratch on my bike and some hassles than deal with rush hour traffic and road rage!

Cheers,
Jeff

The Inferno: Re-beginnings

After a seven year break from ultra-endurance racing, I made the decision this year to re-enter the sport -- and hopefully in grand style! Following the realization of a dream at the Ironman Triathlon World Championship in Hawaii in 2000, I was a bit burnt out from six years of training for Ironmans and lots of solo training miles. I turned my attention to mountain biking, Scuba, snowboarding and continued to ride my road bike, but not with the same training intensity and focus as during the racing years. For several reasons though, 2007 suddenly lit up as the right year to re-enter the sport. I'm not one for easing into pursuits, so I picked a race in Europe that included the description:

"The INFERNO Triathlon is with its 5'500 metres height difference one of the hardest in the world and is already considered one of the classics."



Yes, perfect. Even better, it's really a quadathlon -- following a swim in a mountain lake, we will road bike, then mountain bike, and then ... well, climb a mountain.

When describing what draws me to this race, I've told my work colleagues and friends "it's a quest for work-life balance." I think that the best counter-reply was "Jeff, some people find work life balance by leaving the office at 5 or grabbing a beer with friends." Well-said -- and I agree -- I want that and a crazy race to train for! Seriously though, it's an ultra distance event in a stunning, stunning mountain setting. Those who know me can see the instant attraction -- once I discovered the race and saw the alpine scenery and photos of competitors on a steep mountain trail, I just couldn't resist.

A major change I made in this pursuit though is to hire an top-notch coach, Lisa Smith-Batchen. Lisa is a champion endurance athlete with a stunning list of achievements that includes being the first and only American female to win the Marathon des Sables in its 18 year history, two first place finishes at the Badwater Ultramarathon, and a finish at the Badwater Double Ultramarathon (nearly 300 miles of running!). She also has a great reputation as an online coach, so following an intro phone call to kick things off, I was quite happy that she took me on as a client. It has been an eye-opening experience working with Lisa and I'm now wondering what potential I left untapped in years of prior training and events! I started my coaching with Lisa just over a month ago and can't say enough about how helpful she has been in structuring my training, providing guided motivation, and ensuring that I'm getting the most out of my training approach.

My training for this race unofficially started when Becky and I spent a week cycling in the region near Girona, Spain right at the tail end of winter. Girona was an awesome experience -- now we know why many professional cyclists spend much of their time with Girona as their training base. Following a week trying to regain our climbing legs and enjoy the stunning Mediterranean scenery, we returned to Holland. Next up was discovery of excellent cycling roads (with hills, yes hills!) in the southern part of the Netherlands and Belgium. Becky and I, along with our friend Scott Spaulding, had a great ride on the amateur's go at the Amstel Gold race course in April and followed it up with biweekly treks (via train) to Maastricht, where we continue to discover endless narrow and steep 1/2 mile climbs.

Our next big event is a ride called La Marmotte in France (early July). It's a classic, complete with climbs on several of the Tour de France's most famous mountains (Col du Glandon, Col du Galibier, and l'Alp d'huez). It'll be a long and tough ride, but when the French Alps are only an 80 minute flight away, I won't be complaining about a thing and can't pass up a chance to have a go at this hallowed cycling ground.

That's all for now! Oh yeah, there's another race on my calendar for next spring, but I think I'll make its unveiling a surprise, else you'll surely think I've lost my mind!

Cheers,
Jeff

Girona

We first heard of the town of Girona on the 'Lance Chronicles' prior to the 2005 Tour de France. Girona (in the Catalan region of northern Spain) serves as the off-season home for many pro-cyclists. For many years, this was Lance's home-away-from-home and primary training ground. At the close of our first Dutch winter, we were desperately seeking hills and sunny skies, so we decided to kick off our 2007 cycling season with a week of self-directed 'training camp' in Girona.


We took the relatively quick flight from Amsterdam to Barcelona, rented a van large enough to fit our bike cases, and headed north along the Mediterranean for a couple hours. Our first impression of Girona was honestly that of disappointment. It's not a small village, but a real city with a combination of industry, sprawl, barred-windows, and mid-evil remnants that surprised and confused us. Once we discovered the interior of the city though, our impressions quickly changed. From within the city walls, Girona is very charming: cobblestone streets, narrow alleys, and a 'feel' that's hard to describe (it just draws you in, sets you back many centuries, and encourages you to stroll for hours, even in the rain).

Aside from our time enjoying tranquil walks through Girona and local Catalan wine, we were on our bikes, exploring the foothills of the Pyrenees and the coastal mountains along the Med. Notable moments include a run-in with a sleet storm on what the locals refer to as Lance's favorite training route. We were in a fairly remote area about an hour into a climb and before we knew it, the rain turned into ice pellets that turned the road surface white. We made a painfully slow descent until we found an abandoned brick structure that we could take shelter in. We were very wet and very cold, so I cut apart an old couch to make some extra insulation to stuff in our jackets. This helped us descend in a tiny bit more comfort to the nearest village where a couple of espressos and a Cognac lit the remaining internal fire and made the final rainy descent possible. It was a near-epic ride, yet those make the best memories! Fortunately, the weather improved later in the week and we returned to finish the climb and several others in that area. Now we know why any cyclist would place this area on their list of the best-- beautiful views, no traffic, and endless climbs and descents!

Our favorite ride of the week though took us from Girona to the coast and back. We biked a section along the Mediterranean known for its 360 curves. Of course, the scenery was so stunning (and the weather so perfect) that we had to "add-on", so we made it a 540-curver with a mid-coast exit that took us up a steep, rock-strewn road further into the mountains. It's just so hard to say no to a stretch of pavement that goes up! The pay-off was breath-taking views of the Mediterranean (thanks to no guard rails!) and a long and thrilling descent back toward Girona.



Check out our photo gallery for more pictures of Girona and our rides in the surrounding area. All in all, it was a great week of cycling and absorbing the local atmosphere. We look forward to returning, but hope that we've paid our dues with enduring the ice once and will have only sunny sky visits in the future!

Ciao,
Jeff

Lotus Elise

This clip is an intro to a video I put together in June 2005. I filmed it with a 'Bullet Cam' mounted creatively on Gary's Lotus Elise as we road-tripped from Baltimore to Montreal and back. Great fun in a great car. I hope you enjoy the video!

Jeff

Ringing in 2007

Happy 2007 everyone! I hope that your year is off to a very healthy and happy start! Just a quick note to let you know that new photos are online from Amsterdam New Year's, Jim and Sandy's visit, Copenhagen, and Norway. Check the Photo Gallery link. More writing to come soon .... thanks for stopping by! Cheers, Jeff