Have you experienced a massage?

Have you ever experienced a massage after a few a days of racing?

I’m not saying I have a problem, as I’ve never popped a tent while on the table, but I’ve heard that it happens. I got into an deep conversation pertaining to this very subject with one of our attractive female soigneurs. She insisted that I tell her the secret of Anti-Tent-Making.

Here is what you do:

1.) Don’t go there! An idle mind is a dangerous mind, and on average a “mans” mind will think of something sexual at least once a day, if not more, and you certainly don’t want this to be the time. I know I know, it’s really hard to do when you don’t see any woman all day, surrounded by other guys, and you have an attractive (at least on Slipstream) soigneur. I can think of other teams that would be just as bad if not worse.

A. HealthNet
B. T-Mobile/Highroad
C. Jelly Belly
D. FD Jeux
E. CSC

2.) Busy yourself. Your cell phone and email your mother. A good book perhaps, or the race bible and learn the technical crap on the course for tomorrow.

3.) If you’re close and on the edge, and you have a “half mast”, but not at full sail there is the old, “whoops gotta rearrange, it’s pinching funny” saying and technique. You wait till they look one way, and then quickly do a swipe pushing more towel in and around the stunted totem pole.

4.) Obviously, if you make it the full time while on your back, you’ll be safe on your stomach as you just do the tuck up to belly button.

I haven’t tested these methods for my own self use, but if I had to this is what I would’ve done.

“Wouldn’t it be great if woman weren’t weirded out by our boners, one day that’s the world I’ll live in.” Thank you and well put from the movie SuperBad.

Is it possible!

I think I live with this guy!

“Lumberg did her!”
“Well at least I didn’t FU%$ Lumberg”

Sorry Will

Think about this, Chuck Norris Could have given Birth to Huff!

Brad Huff doesn’t throw up. Brad Huff Throws Down.

Damn, I need better pics.

Send pics of Chuck Huff or Brad Norris to ME!

Today, May 8th 2008 marks exactly 1 year since I started racing again after just coming off of a blood thinner, Coumadin (essentially the rat poison known as Warfarin) that I needed to help dissolve blood clots in my right lung.

Long story short, the clots were present on account of me being genetically prone to getting them (Factor V Leiden), a surgery on my saddle area to remove a wretched saddle sore, and a long journey just after the surgery from Colorado Springs to Pittsburgh.

The crazy thing is, Coumadin affects the vitamin K cycle in the liver and last year before this very race (4 Jours de Dunkerque) I had to eat loads of spinich and leafy green vegetables that contain vitamin K to offset the Coumadin in my system.

It’s been a long year haha, with many ups and downs. Various lung pains from built scar tissue in the early stages of racing, eventually fading away to a few minor results here and there last season, and growing into this year with races such as Het Volk, Kurne, Milan, De Panne, Flanders, Roubaix and back again to Dunkerque.

It’s ironic, but last year, May 8th was a rainy hell hole of a day. I crashed going into 1 km to go while in 10th position. Prentice Stephen told me, “Friedman, just 4 days ago you probably would have died from that crash”.

It’s a beautiful day here this May 8th. A tad windy, but not a cloud in the sky.

There is no Fate, but what we make.

No more riding with the Flag.

I took a sabatical people. No, I wasn’t pregnant, like this guy. I just didn’t have the internet, and by the time i’d get back from training, all I ever wanted to do was eat, and chill, rather than going down to the team office or cafe to internet it up. I must say, it was rather nice not knowing what was happening in the world for a few days.

I’ll be brief, as I need to hop in the shower, and get kitted up for the 2nd stage of the 4 Jours de Dunkerque. Many of you probably aren’t aware, but this race, and May 8th marks the 1 year anniversary since I was able to resume racing after my ordeal with a Pulmonary Embolism and blood clots. So, tomorrow, be cheery, and thank God.

1st stage was a bit of an eye opener again back into racing. It was full bunter from the beginning with crosswinds, single file echelons, and a bit of cobbles. I hosed up the sprint though. It was a perfect sprint for me, but with about 6 km to go I stuffed it up and had to slam the estrogen brakes losing any position I maintained. LAME. I have 5 stages left, and I’ve made a promised to the directors that I will bring something fruitful out of this.

Spent the past three weeks in Girona directly after Roubaix. I was quite cracked after the race to be honest, so took some time to get back to “base”. On all cylinders now, I think, and am ready for the fight today. I was in Girona for most of the time as the sole Slipstream rider all by my lonesome self haha. The weather and the rides made up for it though. I haven’t seen rain in over 3 weeks!

Crap, gotta run.

Quickly what kind of post would this be if I didn’t include some whacky photo/s of me doing something totally AWESOME!

That’s right Huff, you can’t even keep up!

First off, Martijn Maaskant is a badass for finishing 4th at his first ever Paris Roubaix. He’s certainly the next big thing.

The day started off like any other race, except that I was more nervous than usual. 1, it’s Paris Roubaix, the high point of the season for me. 2, I and two other boys (Will and CJ) were supposed to try for the early move. If we can get in the early break, and get up the road then we’re out of trouble for positioning purposes, and quite possibly in a better tactical position to help our “Ace Cards” Maggy, and Martijn when the split from the field happens to catch the break.

In the first hour and a half we covered nearly 90 km. The average speed for the first hour was 51.7 kph and the avg power on the PowerTap was pushing 390 watts pedaling power. That is a super high avg. for a race in a tailwind, on flat to semi-rolling road while attemping to get in the early move. Tells ya just how fast and hard it was going, or how big of a unit I am :).

Coming into the first cobbled section it was stressed during the team meeting that we needed to be at the front with Maggy. Depending on weather conditions, it was either going to be sopping wet, dry, or a mix. Nonetheless we put three guys on the front with Maggy behind us. Interestingly, the group didn’t haul ass into the first section. The riders on the front were going slow and wide. In other words, Tyler, CJ, and myself who were on the front, weren’t doing a leadout, we were actually shoulder to shoulder with the other teams that were present, going about 30 kph, and using the whole road. We didn’t want anybody from the back passing, and causing mayhem. About 1km from the section it let loose and some of us got swarmed but not before Tyler and Maggy hit the section first. Basically in the top ten for the first 5 sections it was Slipstream providing for a pretty insane feeling.

Unfortunately for me, after the second section, I went to move up the left, and had to dive right at the last moment before a right hand turn and yes, that’s right, took myself out. I slammed the right side of my body into the ground, and smashed my head against the pavement while my brake hood went straight into my eye/nose, and immediately started to gush blood. Some police officer grabbed my bike and started walking down the road with it, I caught up went to grab it and he held on like he was trying keep it. I think with all the adrenalin rushing, he was surprised how hard I hanked back when I realized he wasn’t going to let go. He was a big fellow, and I pulled him off his feet.

Anyways, I had to start chasing. I was pretty screwed, because each section now for the next few comes every few kilometers apart. The group flogs through the section, gets to the smooth pavement, breaths, and then rushes again to the next section. Being last on the cobbles is bad. There are guys coming off the back, guys crashing, bottles all over the road, spectators trying to grab them, motos, photographers, basically it’s mayhem. After each section I kept having to chase the main group, and strung out off the back of the main bunch because of the accordian affect of guys at the back being slower than the group of front. After this, I still had to dig to move back up, and you can only do this a handful of time before it takes it toll on an already stressed system.

I got back to the main group just before the section leading to the Arenberg forest, hit a massive hole which took me into the mud, and out the back again! That punched the ticket, and I was on my own until another group came up from behind. We rode together to the second feed and that was the day.

I will be back in force next year…

I woke up this morning around 8:30 AM with a minor headache. I didn’t get to bed until almost midnight, and the headache was probably from the wine and couple of beers I shared with Will, Hendy, his fiancee, Miss Katie Mactier, and Erica, the girlfriend of one of our mechanics.  Here is the thing, it’s less than a week before Paris Roubaix, and ever since I crashed in Flanders, I have been cracked. Burnt out on the whole put on the shorts and go out training/racing thing. I can hide it well, and the World Track Championships certainly didn’t help matters as it rained every freaking day, so I rode the trainer every freaking day. Nonetheless it pin pointed at Flanders. I’m was not riding badly, but I was getting little sleep, and stressing about that along with how I needed to ride well, keep my weight low, taxes blah blah blah right. This happens to everyone and individually we all handle it differently. For me it’s getting back to base. Here I was, having been on the road for roughly 2.5 weeks. In those 2.5 weeks here is what I did…after a hard two weeks leading up to the upcoming races. Thursday before Milan: Travel to Italy Saturday: Milan San RemoSunday: Travel to England/Ride the trackMon-Sun: Track riding/Track WorldsMon: Travel to BelgiumTues-Thurs: 3 days de PanneSun: Tour of Flanders  Anyways, I woke up and this thought of how I began riding again in the spring of 2004 after I had quit it 2001 to attend PSU and whatnot. What occurred to me was this: I raced a few Pro 1/2 races in Florida that spring and remember getting my ass handed to me. I got dropped, and dropped out of the race on the back stretch in one of the criteriums. The point is, 4 years later I’m racing the Spring Classics. I thought about what I had done in the past month and a half and knew why I was feeling this way. It was literally at this moment I felt relief. It just fell of my shoulders and I could breath.Went out behind the motor and hit with Allen Lim, and had a great day on the bike. My heart rate was back, my power, my legs, my head everything felt better. A few weeks ago, I was struggling like a stuffed pig at 164 bpm, my max is 185ish, and today it was back.   The point of this post is this:For those of you out there reading my randomness, it’s a series of progressions. Very few people will come through the ranks and just “get” it, it does happen, but not often. For the majority its a learning curve, and when I tackled Het Volk, Kurne, Milan, Flanders etc, I learned for the next time I do those races. Just like I learned when I was dropped in that Crit now five seasons ago. We all have to keep things in perspective and move forward, and we will get there. It comes and goes like a wave. Just learn to ride the wave with good form, adequate rest, training, diets etc and it comes. Alright, running to the market for some food. Roasting some lamb with my roomie Will and having a couple of guests over for some dinner. Roubaix is on Sunday, and I’m feeling ready to take it on. DON’T MISS IT BRAD HUFF: Miss ya buddy, miss ya big time.  

Okay, well, here I am, sitting in Girona, home away from home for the next three days. I have competed in the biggest races this year, and had some of the craziest experiences that I have ever had. Two years ago, I was a first year pro, and three years ago, I was at Penn State, dating some chick who told me to get a real job. Funny, how life works out, because never in a million years would I have thought I’d be here at this moment. Just returned from the Tour of Flanders, battered and bruised. It was a true brothel of a race and an epic race the way i’ve always read about and pictured in my head. I saw more than four seasons in one day. Warm sun, warm rain, cold rain, snow, sleet, snow/rain, hail, wind, tail wind, cross wind, etc. I took a rightful crash up and over the bars, after some idiot in front of me hit a photographer. When I came to too and was searching for my bike in the tangle that used to be high class race machines (both bodies, and bikes) I couldn’t find it. I looked up the road, and then down, and lying about 50 feet down the road was my steed. After a quick yell into the radio, “Meatball Down, in need of bike”, I did a quick trot to find my wrecked piece lying miserably in a heap. A spectator was there immediately to ask me for my bottles, “Biddon sil vou plais”. I just looked at him in awe, and just handed him the bottles that had been ripped off my bike. I couldn’t believe it, although, I will say it was hailing terrible weather, and yet he  was still there in support. What else could I do. Got the new bike, and joined with Lampre to take up Ballan to the group again. I was pretty dazed though. I had an instant headache, and a very sore neck. It was almost immediately, but I couldn’t stop, even though I knew it was the smart thing to do. It’s Flanders, I can’t wuss out. We chased, got back on, and I wasn’t the same. I got back to the front, but was in and out. I felt good, and then bad, and then good, and then really bad. My head was throbbing, as if I had a terrible hangover, and I couldn’t barely hold my head up due to my neck. This the second time I’ve been really hurt in a crash. The first was at the Six Day in Burnaby where I hurt my wrist/hand that still hurts, but that’s another story. I didn’t slide in this crash. I just went over the bars, sent the bike airmail down the road, and smashed the pavement with my head. I drank a lot of milk as a kid, and still do. Does the body good. Love the milkstache I get. Leave it there all day.  The crowds were amazing. Belgium is well, one of my new favorite places to race. Everyone there was so supportive. I was crawling alone, and off the back of the bunch up the Kwaremont, and back on before the koppenburg and then off again until I pulled into the 2nd feed for the car. Everyone yelled for me, “Meatball GO GO GO, AHHAHH SLIPSTREAM MEATBALL!”  Funny, and amazing. Truly, truly amazing. BELGIAN FANS I LOVE YOU, I PROMISE I’LL BE BACK IN FORCE! Zabel is an ass. I was on the white line on the left side of the road, and this Milram rider just came over on me, and cut me off, nearly crashing me. I yelled some foul words, swung to the right, and punched the jerk in the arse. He turned, at which point I saw who it was, (doesn’t matter to me), and he tell me, “Don’t Be An A hole”. I was dumbstruck. I couldn’t even respond because he was so stupid for saying such a dumb remark, when clearly he was the A Hole! Eh, that’s racing.As big G says, “It’s Flanders Meatball, everyone is in everyones way”. Aight time for bed my friends, Sorry it took so long to update, been on the road getting my head kicked in. 

Well, it’s been some time since i’ve posted anything about myself, outside of racing or training. I’m amazed at how many people enjoy reading this stuff. Okay, I mean, it’s at my expense right, but I’ve received a lot of random, always positive feedback about various posts. So, in thanks, here we go. I hope you laugh at work or where ever you might be when you read this, because that is ulitmately the point. I enjoy making people laugh, and as I’ve said before, don’t mind telling embarassing stories to do so, because, we have all experienced moments like these, I just, well…tell them.

Okay, so it’s Gym Class, 9th or 10th grade so I’m maybe 15.5 or 16 years old or somewhere in that ballpark.

I used to love Gym. It was a time for me to let out pent up energy (no pun intended later on), enjoying ultimate frisbee, soccer, a bit of B-ball, and especially Swim Class! I don’t know, maybe it had to do with the chlorine or the fact that swim class was completely different than any other activity you ever did in Gym. People used to dred it, and I more or less embraced it. I think mainly for the fact that it was a coed gym class.

Now, I guess on this particular day I may have “embraced” it a tad to much. You see, I had the Coed Gym Class of GOLD. All the hot popular godesses were there, and you can only pretend to take a large sweeping “glance” 7 to 10 times to check out what time it is on the large clock, before you are that suspicious pervert. Nevertheless, i’m on probably glance 2, and already I have my hand in my pocket.

Okay, for those of you who don’t know, a man with his hands in his pocket is suspicious. What is he doing? Grabbing change, keeping his hand warm, scratching something, or does he actually have something he’s trying to hide? I always made sure my swim shorts had pockets. It was a major major issue people. I could just anticipate that this was going to happen, that I would become all “excited” as soon as I saw the female participants of our gym class. I’d have my hand in my pocket, holding you know what, looking oh so casual, “hey look at me, I don’t have a boner”. Holding random casual conversations as if nothing is wrong.

“Oh yeah, hey, Liz looking good, how are ya?”

“Yo Ben, we running later? Cool man cool”

“Hey, maybe later, can I copy your math? You can copy my Spanish”

IT WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN. THE INEVITABLE!

I’m standing there one particular gym class, chatting it up with the ladies.

“Well, yes, I use a Mach 3 normally, but last night, oh my god, I tried using a razor with two blades, and cut myself badly”

“Oh yeah, gel you say, usually I just use regular shave cream, but i’ll take your advice”

“That’s right Steph, smoother than yours”

“Have you ever used electric?” “Pfft, nah, it pulls too much, right, yeah no, use two razors, saves time”

Okay, so, like I said, standing there, hand in pocket, “talking”, while stealing quick unacknowledged glances at well…

(saying to myself)

“Dear GOD, a BOOB! Two of them!”
“Holy shnikes, when did she grow into those?”
“Maybe if I accidently slip, I can grab one”

I didn’t realize, but my buddies were handing out everyone’s kick boards and what not, and one of them yells, “Hey Friedman, Catch!” Zings a kickboard eye level, and it’s coming fast. Without hesitation I grab it from the air, with BOTH HANDS!

Standing there kick board above my head, while down below, I’m full on swinging about with a broom stick lopping off heads.

And sure enough, a handful of ladies saw it, then their friends, and now the whole damn bench knows, so I jump into the pool, and sink to the bottom. I was so embarassed, but I could not help laughing histarically under the water at what had happened.

Yeah, I was super embarassed, and yes everyone saw it, but holy crap was it ever funny.

I didn’t go single to Prom.

Caught a cold after Cobble Camp, raced Eroica, well part way, and got a bit sick.

Pulled for Tirreno on account of being sick, but no matter.

New Sched:

Milan San Remo
World Track Championships
Three Days De Panne
Tour of Flanders
Gent Wevelgem
Paris Roubaix

Break.

Hmm, think I better go train.