cycloWHAT?

Red Bull, Red Meat, and Febreeze.

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 07:48:28 -0500

Our last night in Tokyo was to be spent back in the hip Shi BOO YAH neighborhood. We were to meet Tim’s Red Bull Athlete Manager in Japan, Arnie Ueno, at the Hachiko Dog statue again and we would be heading to dinner somewhere in the neighborhood.

When we got to the statue we immediately heard Arnie calling for us and he introduced us to his co-worker, Ai, pronounced “Eye.” Or “I,” eye suppose.

As we walked our way through the neighborhood everything seemed all too familiar. We were no more than two blocks away from our late night Ramen establishment.

Something I found interesting about Tokyo was how everything existed on the vertical. On every business sign hanging on every business you would find 1F, 2F, 3F, etc. As you could probably guess, these number/letter combos indicate on which floor you could find your preferred establishment.

The street level of each building rarely housed more than a hallway to an elevator. Into the elevator you would go where you would press button for your desired floor. Depending on the establishment to which you were patronizing, you would step out of the elevator into a place much more desirable than the street level entrance.

In our case on this evening, we stepped into a small rock garden and then through sliding doors into an ultra-contemporary foyer where customers’ shoes lined the wall.

I hoped my feet didn’t stink.

When we turned the corner, we were greeted by multiple women in what I would guess were Kimono robes. They walked us down a central, dark-stained wooden walkway to a low-laid table. My first thought was, “I can’t sit on the ground for an entire meal. Hips. No. Good.”

Luckily, the seating was actually recessed in the floor. Tim appeared to be sharing similar concerns to me as he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw there was a place for our feet below the seat.

As with every meal in Japan, we were greeted with warm towels to wipe our hands. If you are a man, you can also wipe your face. I did.

Ai, who had reserved this dinner, explained that the meal we were about to have was Yakiniku, meaning, literally, grilled meat. Grilled meat we would have.

Before we got to eat the meat, Tim and I were each greeted by three of the kimono-clad servers who, ever-so-delicately, placed bibs around our necks. For this we said, “Arigato.”

Ai’s reaction to the three-person bib application:

Tim’s reaction:

Then came the meat.

There were small cuts of beef.

They became this:

There were large cuts of beef.

I don’t really know what that cut was, but the best Arnie and Ai could do to describe it was as a rib or back strip. Either way, it was the best piece of meat I have ever eaten. When it reached a certain point of cooking, the server would come to the table and use those large scissors leaning against the grill in the photo above to snip it into smaller pieces.

After a few rounds of seemingly standard beef cuts, Ai upped the ante by ordering some beef tongue.

While this wasn’t my favorite, it was worth trying. It was, for lack of better description, chewy.

I should mention that after each selection of meat was grilled and eaten, one of the servers would come to our table with a fresh grill top. There would be no tainting of one meat’s taste by the last. Luckily for me, the used, hot grill top was precariously lifted over Tim and Arnie’s heads each time.

After receiving our fourth fresh grill top, we were then thrown off our game by what appeared to be white meat.

False alarm, this wasn’t white meat. It was the cow’s “first stomach,” Ai had said.

It curled on the grill as it cooked, and was also chewy. Again, not my favorite, but you know what they say, “When in Tokyo…” Right?

We had some vegetables. Arnie said he hated cucumber with a passion, so he had none.

A surprisingly tasty treat was the fried garlic.

We finished off the meat session with some hot soup which, obviously, had beef in it. The broth reminded me, ever so slightly, of the double spice Ramen broth I had drunk on our first night out.

As was customary with every meal we had in Tokyo, we were also offered miso soup and hot green tea.

To compensate for having eaten a bowl full of fried garlic, we were each given a piece of gum.

Filled to the brim with red meat, we all stood from our sunken table and made our way to our shoes we had left in the foyer. With our shoes back on our feet, we stepped back into the rock garden that had first greeted us at the elevator where one of the servers offered to spray us with a glorified Febreeze. They really thought of everything.

I kindly obliged the offer to be rid of grilled meat, tongue and stomach scent, took my small Valentine’s care package they were offering, and I stepped into the elevator with my other no longer smelling of meat friends and headed back into the downtown Tokyo night life.

Karaoke?

Rice Balls, AKB48, and Raw Coffee.

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 07:16:00 -0500

After an awesome morning spent betting on bikes, we got back in the Cannondale van with Hiro and Ichi.

It was lunch time, and we would be eating on the road.

“McDonald’s or Rice Balls?” Hiro asked.

Tim and I both replied “Rice Balls” without hesitation.

Hiro shook his head and said, “Crazy Americans. They eat squid but not McDonald’s.”

Rice balls are purchased at 7-11 and they are really like rice triangles wrapped in thin seaweed. You can get salmon, sweet plum, or tuna with mayonnaise. They come double wrapped in plastic with special instructions.

First, you pull the plastic from the top of the triangle, straight down, and around the back. This unwraps the seaweed that has been kept separate to stay dry. Then you pull the plastic wrapped around the rice triangle directly to the side, almost like Mr Wizard pulling the tablecloth out from under the dishes on the table.

Mr Wizard. Hated that guy.

What you are left with is a deliciously sweet rice meal wrapped in fresh, paper-thin seaweed. From 7-11.

After lunch, we headed into the Akihabara neighborhood, otherwise known as “Electric Town.” Also known for gifting the world with the current female idol group, AKB48.

Aitakkata, aitakkata, aitakkata, yes!

There are 57 members in the group. They have their own theater in Tokyo where they perform daily, and they have pop-up shops that sell only their merchandise.

Back Street Boys? What Back Street Boys?

In Akihabara, Ichi took us to a shop where he said he would shop, with the types of items he would buy. Tim and I purchased gifts for our wives and I took a picture of a robot.

The shop was located in a cool, little complex that sat beneath the above-ground train.

There was bike parking.

And there were toilets.

There was a store that only sold items made of wood.

I nearly cracked around 6 pm from an already long day. Knowing we had dinner with Red Bull reps in a few hours, and who knew what after dinner, we needed some coffee.

We found good coffee.

Tim and Ichi enjoyed their “coffee of the day.”

And I acted like the weird guy taking pictures of raw coffee beans. By “acted,” I mean, “was.”

I really regret not buying this espresso grinder. Such an idiot.

After a few cups of coffee, Ichi walked Tim and me to the train so we could meet two reps from Red Bull Japan in ShiBOOYAH at the Hachiko Dog again where we would be dining on meat products.

On the train, where no one speaks, I told Ichi I loved him as he walked through the doors for the last time. He did not reciprocate, but I didn’t take it personally.

Red Bull, Red Meat, and Karaoke coming up next…

Betting on Bikes

Fri, 17 Feb 2012 12:11:00 -0500

The day before our trip to Tokyo ended, Hiro and Ichi surprised Tim and me with a trip to Keirin racing in Omiya.

Ichi was pretty pumped for the trip.

But Tim was concerned for his health.

It was close to a one hour drive, and from what I could tell, the Japanese were not accustomed to driving such a long distance. Tim and I didn’t care, as we just tried to repeat the Japanese commands coming from the GPS Navigation.

Hidari. That means left.

Upon arriving, we found the Keirin track situated in a relatively large sports complex, where they also hold soccer and baseball events. We parked in a surprisingly crowded parking lot and walked to the track.

It felt a little like going to a NASCAR event.

We had been told that Tim was a special guest at the event, so we were walked down a private hallway where we were given special passes that afforded us our own private suite looking over the track.

There were TVs to watch replays. The rider on the ground was taken away by ambulance, we were told.

Before we got down to business, Tim presented Hiro with a team jersey for the Cannondale Japan office. I suspect this jersey is in Hiro’s closet and he is waiting to wear it in his next race.

The name of the game in Keirin is gambling. According to Hiro and Ichi, many people in Japan have made careers of gambling on Keirin, but the younger generation is less interested, so Keirin is a dying sport.

Like we have for horse racing in the US, there are all sorts of statistics available for betting on Keirin. Every 20 minutes or so, there is a race with anywhere between 7 and 9 racers, all in easily identified colors. The colors always match the same number, and the racers only do one race a day. The odds are displayed on screens in the suite and the newspapers offer their predictions that typically match the odds on the screen.

You have a few options for how to bet…again, this is very similar to horse racing in the US. You can pick the exact finishing order of the top two or three or just the top 2 or 3 at random.

You mark your predictions on what looks to be a mini SAT sheet.

Before their race, the riders do a few laps, slowly, to let you take a look at them. They ranged, in age, from 20 years old all the way to 48 years old. According to our host, we were not to be discouraged by the age differences, as Keirin was as much about brains as it was legs.

Once you had decided on your bets (up to five on one sheet), you took it down the hallway to the automatic machine that would process your bets and provide you with a ticket that could be used for payment if you won.

“Big Gamblers!” as Hiro liked to call us as we bet $.75 per race.

After placing my bet, I needed to use the bathroom.

We went back to the suite and waited for the first race to start.

Tim started a ritual the Japanese had never seen.

When the race started, there wass a pace setter (we called him the rabbit) who led the racers around the first two laps. He was there to break the wind so no one was stuck leading.

At some point in the second lap, the riders began to attack and fight for position and when they heard the bell at the start of the third lap, it was no holds barred. Using elbows and your body to fight for position is standard practice in Keirin.

While we each won at least one race, we all still lost. Maybe next time.

Eat the Head.

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 12:33:12 -0500

After our visit to Bonsai Cycle in Sendagaya, we made our way to the train with Kaiko Shimura, better known as the girl who is polluting the internet with images that would best be kept off the internet.

Thanks, Kaiko.

The train was crowded.

And unbelievably quiet! Seriously, no talking. Silence. Except for the click of my camera shutter. Whoops.

We got off the train in the hip neighborhood of Tokyo called Shinjuku. There is a mix of fine shops and sketchier streets here.

There is also a famous department store called Setan.

They had shoes.

And light bulbs.

The basement level of this department store is amazing. It’s all food goods, particularly confections and candies.

And whiskey.

Suntory Time.

On this occasion, it was ridiculously busy with women rushing to buy their men Valentine’s gifts. Yes, you read that right. Take note, America. Take note. Tim broke the mold and purchased items for his wife.

The customer service was outrageous. Each confection was delicately wrapped and placed in a special box. After paying, the clerk came around from behind the counter and handed Tim his receipt to confirm the price and then hand-counted the change due to ensure Tim received the proper amount.

And then with a bow, we left for Tempura.

There was pickled eggplant.

Tuna Sashimi.

And shrimp faces.

I balked at those beady little eyes, but the consensus at the table was to eat it. So I did. I ate his little head.

As seems to be the case at every meal, we finished off with Miso Soup and Green tea and then we headed back out into the bright lights of the Shinjuku neighborhood.

And then back on the train, where Tim refused to sit next to me.

Crazy Americans

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 12:01:00 -0500

One thing we vowed to do while in Tokyo was to eat as the Japanese eat.

So far, I have shared Hotel Breakfasts, Sushi, Shabu Shabu, and now it’s time for a meal from Osaka called, “Okonamiyaki.” They call it the “Japanese Pancake,” but I can assure you, this ain’t your standard breakfast dish.

Yaki, in Japanese, is Grill. So when we were brought to our tables, we were greeted by a large grill embedded in the table.

The server lit the propane fired Yaki and then proceeded to mix and mold a combination of cabbage, bacon, beef, onions and some other unknowns into two piles.

After the piles were sufficiently built, they were left to cook for 15-20 minutes on the yaki.

While we waited, our hosts decided to continue playing a little game they like called, “What will Tim and Chandler eat?”

This time it was something they had a lot of difficulty describing. They were able to say, “Stomach and tendons.” I think Tim added tripe to the description.

Some things were chewy. Some things were not. Some things were tasty. Some things were not.

Either way, we polished off the bowls and our hosts were left in a state of disbelief.

After the bowls of entrails the server brought out a kind of omelet. I never was able to get a name for this item, but it was basically an omelet wrapped around pork and some sort of cheesy, milky substance.

It was interesting watching it cook on the grill, since it almost appeared to jump and dance as it cooked.

I think the topping of this omelet was either seaweed flakes or fish flakes. I couldn’t really tell, but as I brought it closer to my mouth it smelled a little like fish, but it didn’t taste like fish.

This was not my favorite dish, but I ate it.

In the meantime, the Japanese Pancakes were still cooking and the server came to add some additional ingredients…

The sauce was hard to describe, except that I think it’s called okonomiyaki sauce. It’s gooey and sweet, but not that sweet, almost like a bland caramel.

After a few more minutes of cooking, the pancakes were then chopped into individual servings for our table.

Some noodles were added to the grill.

I don’t really know how to describe the okonomiyaki. There is so much going on with it that it’s hard to identify one real taste. The texture is definitely enjoyable, since the cabbage is crunchy and then there are the grilled noodles. I wish I could describe it better, but I really can’t.

As we were eating our pancakes, we were then given some raw squid to grill and eat. Shame on me for not taking a photograph.

This was, literally, one of the most delicious things I ate while in Japan. It didn’t appear to be seasoned in any way, but it tasted so. It was salty and less chewy than expected.

Much to the dismay of our hosts, when Tim and I took a bite of the squid, we both reacted the same way. With full mouths we tried to say, “It’s delicious.”

Their response? “Crazy Americans. They like squid but they don’t like McDonald’s.”

How About Some Hardcore

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 10:26:00 -0500

Before the Cyclo Cross Tokyo 2012 race on Saturday, we were introduced, by Daisuke Yano, to the owner of Bonsai Cycle, a special bike shop in Tokyo.

Upon meeting the owner, he told Tim Johnson he made “replica helmets.”

“This one?” Tim asked, pointing to his Red Bull helmet?

“Yes,” he replied, “This one is very difficult.”

We were intrigued by this and looking forward to the opportunity to meet him at his shop, especially since we had also been told, via THE INTERNET, to visit this shop for it’s coffee. Coffee, mmmmmmmmm.

Two days later, our hosts, Hiro Ito, Hideyuki Suzuki, and Koichiro Nakamura, brought Tim, Kaiko Shimura, and me to Bonsai Cycle. It would turn out be a more amazing experience than we could have ever expected.

I am pretty sure that says, “Bonsai Cycle.”

When we had first met the owner, he was dressed in street clothes and a traditional cycling cap. He looked like a bike messenger. When we met him again, this time in his establishment, he was dressed to the nines, in a fine white shirt, sweater vest and bow tie. The pride he took in his business was obvious.

Upon entering Bonsai Cycle, we were welcomed to cyclocross-themed muffins and espresso drinks made by the shop’s barista.

In broken English, the owner explained that, to him, cyclocross was all things brown; Mud, Coffee, and Chocolate.

The muffins were tasty. And brown. And chocolatey.

I am a fan of hyperbole. I do not use hyperbole when I say that I had the best macchiato I have ever had at Bonsai Cycle. The Barista was more skilled than I have ever seen, as was evidenced by her cappucino art.

After sitting with our muffins and drinks, the owner then gave us a tour of his shop.

He then led us to the replica helmets he had made. BY HAND.

First, we saw his Jeremy Powers Team Rapha Focus Edition helmet.

And Tim tried to steal it.

Then he led us to the Tim Johnson Red Bull Edition helmet.

We saw the inspirations for his creation.

And the materials he used to create it.

The visit to Bonsai Cycle was yet another amazing experience in this visit to Tokyo. After finishing off what remained of our coffees and muffins, we headed into the streets of the small neighborhood that housed Bonsai Cycle with Koichiro and headed to Shinjuku for Tempura with Kaiko.

Cyclo Cross Tokyo 2012 GoPro

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 18:24:26 -0500

Some video from the handlebars of Christian Heule during Cyclo Cross Tokyo 2012.

Cyclo Cross Tokyo 2012

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 23:29:00 -0500

Holy crap!

I didn’t realize this, but this was the first ever Cyclo Cross Tokyo, and to say it was a success is an understatement.

We all woke up early to be at breakfast in the hotel by 7am. We were at the course with bikes, wheels, trainers and other supplies by 8 for the 40 minute course inspection, since Tim and Erik had not yet ridden the course.

There was still roughly 1.2km of sand on the course, so there was that. Knowing that, I took great pleasure in not racing.

Crowds were already starting to fill in and there were tents already raised for manufacturers and vendors.

The guys were immediately bombarded by requests for autographs, photos, interviews and introductions.

The prevailing mood for this event seemed was excitement; not just for the fans and spectators, but for the competitors as well. The local, Japanese racers seemed thrilled at the opportunity to race along side some of the World’s elite cyclocross racers.

Cannondale’s Japanese MTB rider, Kazuhiro Yamamoto, and the local Cannondale guys offered their tent, tools, and anything else we needed to make the race go as smoothly as possible. Here, Kazu has his number pinned by his wife, Erina Yamamoto.

Our hosts from Champion System were very busy with the days duties, particularly Ryoji, who was promoting his first ever cyclocross race!

Chiharu was also busy and kept us on task with where we needed to be and when, since we understood none of the instructions and information being called out over the loud speakers.

Before we knew it, it was time to race. Hiroki Ito, Watase Yoshiki and the Cannondale crew helped out immensely by running the spare bikes to the pits while I met the guys to take their gear at the start.

The whistle blew, and the guys headed down the start stretch, immediately into a double set of barriers. On the pavement. Tim almost killed himself, but didn’t, and it was off to the pits for me.

I have some video of the race, but that will have to be posted later since internet speed at the hotel makes uploading video very difficult.

To quickly summarize, a local Japanese racer, Yu Takenouchi, took off like a bat out of hell and put a sizable gap into the entire field, making Ben Berden, and every other racer say, “Oh S***!”

Ben eventually caught Takenouchi, who appeared to have gone out a little too fast from all the excitement of the huge crowds.

In the end, only five racers finished on the lead lap, with Tonkin being the first lapped rider. The final results were Berden, Johnson, Heule, Takenouchi, Driscoll, and Tonkin.

After the race, I caught some photos of the women’s podium awaiting presentation.

Spectators.

And the fun on the podium.

Champion System threw an amazing race, and the fact that this was the inaugural event is extremely promising for the future of cyclocross in this city. This event proved that cyclocross is more than just UCI races and World Cups and SuperPrestige. Cyclocross is what you choose to make it and Tokyo has made something special with this event.

Enjoy these final, few images I think best summarize this great race:

Dinner Before the Race.

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 20:06:00 -0500

Back to chronological order, here…Friday.

On Friday, the rest of the racers arrived in Tokyo: Ben Berden, Tim Johnson, and Eric Tonkin.

Christian, Jamey and I were passing time in my hotel when Berden arrived at the hotel in Daiba late Friday afternoon and stopped by our room to say hello.

Ben’s most pressing question was what we were going to do at night.

He was welcomed to our room by a pant-less Christian, who spent many hours like this on Tim’s bed before he arrived to that evening.

“I can do this because I am Euro.” That is an actual quote. And he’s right.

Local Rapha rep, Daisuke Yano, also showed up to join us for a course pre-ride that would be happening a few hours later.

I sat where I usually do, in front of the laptop trying to upload photos, videos and write posts like this one…

A few hours later, Tim and Eric had arrived, the course inspection was done and we were on our way to another authentic Japanese dinner with our Champion System hosts, Ryoji, Shinya, and Chiharu.

The dinner we had is called Shabu Shabu. It’s basically a large pot of boiling water and oil, into which you dip an assortment of vegetables and, more importantly, delicious, thinly-sliced beef.

I ordered myself a Ginger Ale. It turned out to be one of the best I’ve ever had.

I had told our hosts upon first arriving here, when asked what type of Japanese food I knew and liked, that I loved Tempura. They were thrilled about this, so naturally they surprised us with some appetizers of Tempura fish, shrimp and vegetables.

The Tempura was amazing. Light, clean, and delicious. The shrimp barely required chewing. I don’t know what the fish was, and I don’t care, because it was good.

They placed three large pots of the water and oil mix on our table and beneath them were what basically amounted to gas-fired Sternos.

Then they brought out three large plates of items we would be dropping into the boiling pots.

There was cabbage, Udon noodles, mushrooms, carrots, seaweed, tofu (which is amazing here - more soft and gelatinous that what we find at home), green onions, and more.

Then came the thinly-sliced beef.

Once the water oil was nearly boiling, we received two dipping sauces, a sweet, almost citrus soy sauce and a sesame-based sauce. We also each got a bowl of rice to pair with all the other items. We got the nod from the server to start dropping food in the pots and we had at it.

I had the misfortune of sharing a pot with Jamey Driscoll. He eats quickly. He eats a lot.

After we could eat no more, Ryoji and Shinya had to leave to attend to preparations for the next day’s race. Chiharu asked if we needed anything else and I said we needed dessert. Christian, Jamey and I had stumbled upon a crepe/ice cream vendor earlier in the day, so we went there.

After eating some crepes filled with ice cream and chocolate covered bananas, the fatigue started to show on the faces of everyone and we called it a night.

Saturday morning would be more course time for Cyclo Cross Tokyo 2012 and then the big event at 12:00. None of us knew what to expect, but this being a blog, and tomorrow actually really being two days ago, it would turn out to be amazing and more than anyone could have expected. More on that soon.

Tokyo at Night.

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 09:21:15 -0500

I am going to step out of chronological order on posts here. I have to. Racing cyclocross is, well, racing cyclocross. You can imagine what it was like and I will definitely share my photos and video soon, but right now I have something more interesting to share.

After Saturday’s race, our Champion Systems hosts threw a party and fed us all we could eat. We can’t thank Ryoji, Chiharu, and Shinya enough for all they did for us this weekend. They were great hosts.

After the post-race party, Chiharu brought Tim Johnson, Ben Berden, Jamey Driscoll, Don Kellogg of Clement, and myself to meet new Boston/Tokyo friend, Kaiko Shimura, in the Shibuya neighborhood of Tokyo. Eric Tonkin was too wrecked from the travel and racing and Christian Heule had too early a flight the next morning to be able to join us.

Before getting on the train to Shibura, I followed the advice of a Twitter follower and purchased coffee in a can from a vending machine. You can get almost anything from a vending machine here.

The can comes out hot. Yep. And it tastes better than your Medium Regulah from the Dunks, kid.

We took the train to Shibura.

Once in Shibura, we met Kaiko and headed into the madness.

Before we knew it, it was 2 AM and we were standing in the entrance to a Ramen Noodle “restaurant.” I put “restaurant” in ” ” because I don’t know how to categorize this place. I’m not saying it was bad, I am just saying it wasn’t a traditional restaurant and I have never been anywhere like it.

Something we have seen a lot of here is a system of tickets for purchasing food or drinks. You don’t order from a cashier or server at many places. Instead, you have a ticket machine with images and descriptions of available food and drink items and their prices.

When I asked Chiharu why they did this, she replied, “Because it’s easy?”

Good point.

When it was time to purchase my ticket, I argued with her about what I wanted, but in the end, she decided for me and I ended up with a ticket for Ramen Noodles instead of some other rice and vegetable options.

With our tickets in hand, we walked up a few steps to another panel of blinking lights, symbols and buttons. This board illustrated the current seating availability. There were two corridors to choose from, one on the far right and one on the far left, and each had a few available “seats.”

We pushed the buttons for the seats we wanted and walked through the door to the left.

What we found behind the door wasn’t a row of seats so much as a row of mini cubicles. Chiharu said this was to offer some privacy to “shy” people who may not want to be seen or see others.

We each took our place in a cubicle. On the way to mine, I found one cubicle housing a patron who appeared to havelost the battle against The Ramen.

He was promptly removed from the establishment, his hair soaked in soup.

Once seated, we were given additional paperwork to fill out. This was used to customize our Ramen Noodles to our preferences. Again, I let Chiharu choose for me.

“Do you like spicy,” she asked.

“Yes, I like spicy,” I replied.

You will notice the circle around “Double Spice.” You will also notice the disclaimer that the Secret Sauce may be too spicy for children. What spice had the guy with soup-wet hair chosen?

When the questionnaire completed, I passed the piece of paper through a small opening in the cubicle and I waited.

I also passed my phone through the opening and took a photo of the inner workings of this mystical and magical place.

A short while after passing my customization document to the staff I received my big-ass-bowl of Ramen Noodles and the shade above my cubicle’s opening was dropped.

I could only assume the pile of red on top was “Double Spice.”

Before embarking on this culinary adventure, I delayed the game by filling up my glass of water from my private dispenser in my cubicle.

Then I looked to my left to check on Tim in his cubicle and saw that he had chosen to order a hard-boiled egg. It came with instructions on how to peel it. Everything here has instructions, even the toilets.

I vocally judged his decision, turned back to my cubicle, and immediately proceeded to burn my face off on some double-spiced Ramen Noodles.

It wasn’t long until I realized I had picked the last of the noodles out of the soup bowl with my chop sticks. I asked Chiharu what I was supposed to do with the large amount of reddish broth in my bowl.

“You drink it.”

I drank it.

It was spicy.

It was actually so spicy that my lips are still feeling a little “off” at the time of writing this post, nearly 24 hours after the fact.

Before leaving the “restaurant’ and heading back out to the streets of Tokyo, I used the bathroom, where there was no shortage of toilet paper.

When I went to wash my hands, I saw something amazing.

Just when I thought this experience couldn’t have gotten any better, it went ahead and did. That’s right, that faucet washes its handles itself.

Thanks to Chiharu and Kaiko for giving us a true tast of Tokyo cuisine. I will never forget eating Ramen Noodles in Tokyo, even if I have already forgotten how to get back there.

Wait up, #Japandler

Sat, 11 Feb 2012 13:33:46 -0500

You saw Christian Heule pre-riding Koksijde behind Sven Nys.

Now you get to see him pre-riding Cyclocross Tokyo behind me…notice how natural I look in the Cannondale p/b CyclocrossWorld Pro kit. I could get used to wearing those colors…hopefully Team Director, Stu Thorne, will take notice.

If you’re looking for some analysis on this course, here goes:

The stuff in the woods was some of the most fun I’ve had on a cyclocross bike. It was like riding through a dark jungle, with loose needles and leaves over soft, loose dirt.

As for the sand, we skipped the first half that was completely un-rideable for me. After riding the second half of the sand, I was barely able to climb the steps and remount. Pedaling the start/finish stretch was not an option.

That was one lap, and I think the Pro race was 11 or more laps.

Cover the Plate.

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 07:27:03 -0500

Earlier this year I waged a bet with a kind gentleman from Canada.

The contest was a head to head battle at the Grand Prix of Gloucester in the Men’s B Race and to the victor went a hefty supply of Pure Maple Syrup from the loser’s region.

Long story short, I won the bet and received my winnings at the NBX Warwick Race in early December.

That weekend, Christian Heule stayed with Todd and me at my Mother-in-Law’s apartment. Christian expressed some interest in the maple syrup before Saturday’s race when he asked to pour a small amount in his water bottle before the race.

He asked to pour a little in his water bottle after the race.

As we left the race, I noticed the container of maple syrup in his bags.

Saturday evening, back at the apartment, he poured a little maple syrup in his water bottle before dinner.

Sunday morning, he poured a little maple syrup in his water bottle before breakfast. As he finished the pour, he licked the rim of the container and closed it up.

I gasped at this and asked, “Did you really just lick the rim?”

His reply was as concise as one would expect from a Swissman, “It’s mine now.”

I had had the privilege of a small taste of the syrup upon receipt. Beyond that, I had none.

This morning at 7:01 am I received a message from Christian asking if I was ready for the breakfast buffet at the hotel in Tokyo. Knowing breakfast began one minute earlier, I obliged.

As we walked down the corridor to the hotel restaurant, neither of us knew what to expect, except for the standard courtesy and politesse that we have encountered with every single person we have met on this trip. Even from as far away as I was in the next image, the pleasantries of the greeting Christian received are obvious.

We were very pleased with what we saw around the corner. Food. Lots of food. And of all types. And coffee. Good coffee. There were waffles, pancakes, omelets, scrambled eggs, croissants, chocolate crossaints, cereals, rice, baked salmon, mango, bananas, mixed fruit, pasta, bacon, breads, soups, and more.

Christian and I filled a few plates and returned to our table.

They had real maple syrup. As a New Englander, I have accepted real maple syrup to be a rarity when traveling outside the region that is the awesomest.

Christian was also excited, obviously. So excited, he poured some all over my plate for me.

Having learned nothing from the maple syrup incident, I asked Christian to sit in front of my plate because I was having some lighting issues for photographing. Yeah, I’m serious about this photography now. Knowing I have to offload content to Todd each time I shoot so he can edit it, I need to cover my ass.

Whilst Christian sat in the good light, he began eating my food and saying things like, “I like that.”

Lucky for him, this was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I’m not sure if you can tell from the photos, but everything is small. Small pancakes. Small waffles. Even the bananas are small. I will take some scaled photos tomorrow, because it is exciting.

Speaking of bananas.

After Christian finished sampling my plate, we each filled another four or five plates and ate until we could eat not more.

Then I took some photos of the views from the restaurant of the notorious Rainbow Bridge and Tokyo Tower.

The best part is, we get to repeat this morning ritual for the next five days. I’ve never had baked salmon for breakfast. It might be time.

Sushi in Tokyo

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 23:57:13 -0500

After leaving the airport, Shinya brought The Dangler and me to meet two more Champsys hosts, Chiharu and Ryoji, at a local Sushi eatery, not far from our hotel.

Bear with me on these next photos because, like I mentioned, I would prefer to not have to think at all when using a camera and it stresses me out having to do so. As a result, Todd edited these remotely and did what he could to fix them for me. I promise, though, they’re getting better.

Our host, Chiharu.

Host Ryoji.

Outside most of the restaurants near the hotel they display all the menu items in the windows.

We let our hosts order our dinner and while it was similar to sushi you might find in America, there were subtle differences. There was no pile of wasabi that many Americans use to pollute their soy sauce and prove their tolerance for spice.

Many of the items were familiar, but some were more intimidating, like the large eel seen in the forefront of this photo.

The chu toro (fatty tuna) was the best I’ve ever had and the Salmon roe was less salty and less potent than what I’m used to.

#Japandler

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 19:50:28 -0500

A few months ago, I got an email from Tim Johnson saying he had two options for after the World Championships in Koksijde; A race in Costa Rica or a race in Tokyo, Japan.

My response to him was something along the lines of, “Is it even a question?” While I’m sure Costa Rica is beautiful, Japan has always seemed, well, like JAPAN.

Shortly after the email exchange, Tim asked in passing, “Want to go to Japan?”

I laughed and shrugged it off. Not an option, really.

A few months later, Tim sent me a text message from Europe asking again, “Want to go to Japan?”

Up yours, Tim. Up yours. I get it, you’re going to Japan. I should have told you to go to Costa Rica. I wouldn’t have cared.

“We need a mechanic. The flight and expenses are covered.”

Up mine.

Japan was one of those trips my wife and I had reserved ourselves to making when we were old and retired. The cost and length of the flights has always been a deterrent, so the idea was put in the back of our minds, on temporary leave, so to speak. Who was I kidding, I’ll probably never retire.

“Yes, I want to go to Japan.”

Three days before the scheduled departure, I booked my flight. I spent roughly three hours comparing aircraft options, available seats, and flight paths. Did you know it only takes one more hour to fly from Toronto to Tokyo than from San Francisco to Tokyo? Arctic Circle #FTW.

Final decision was Air Canada’s 777 in seats 12F, 18K, 31K, and 12F. Windows. Bulkheads. Empty rows. Total flight time: 16 hours.

Now, I have never been on one plane for more than 8 hours. I start to crack at hour 6. This was starting to stress me out.

Then I remembered something. I drove 21 hours from Wisconsin. Straight. Alone. It’s hard to admit one’s own stupidity, but in five less hours, I could be in Tokyo, Japan. And I wouldn’t be going through Pennsylvania.

I was over it.

I cleaned the house for my wife. Bonus points.

Todd loaned me a Canon 20D and told me to read the manual to learn how to use it.

Manual? For that camera? Looks pretty easy, and from all I could tell, Todd just pointed the thing at people, held his breath, made weird noises and magic appeared in the viewfinder. No manual. No way.

Wednesday arrived, at it was time to depart the country.

Travel from Boston to Toronto was uneventful.

In Toronto, I told the manual Todd have given me to shove it and I did what anyone in this Golden Age does, I googled how to set that camera up. Isn’t the Internet wild, guys? It has EVERYTHING.

If there’s one thing I don’t care about, it’s “Metering.” Or aperture. Or exposure. Or shutter speed. I just push the effing button, and it is supposed to look good. Why else would someone spend so much money on a camera?

They have moving sidewalks in Toronto that tell you where to hold on for safety.

As I made the journey down that moving sidewalk, I realized with every lurch and lunge it made I was getting closer to my sealed fate of 13 hours in a thing that is, for all intents and purposes, made and operated by people. And people make mistakes. Example: My Life. Just kidding.

I bought a big bottle of water. I put two Airborne tablets in it. I had a mini-nervous breakdown.

13 hours.

You know when there’s a plane crash and there’s always this one person who didn’t get on the flight because “I just had a bad feeling about it?” I didn’t have that feeling. But how could I be sure.

I should have flown Qantas. #Wopner.

I felt pretty good knowing I had an empty row to myself with all the leg room I would need, but Air Canada reminded me one last time that I was, much to my dismay, one of the sheeple.

There were a few fellow Americans chomping at the bit before take off. The cause of the hullabaloo:

Yup. Look at that oasis. I had no qualms, as I had my own mini-oasis.

Have you ever heard the phrase, “Unlucky Lottery?” I first heard this term on an old radio show that was in Boston, then wasn’t, then was again. Opie and Anthony. Good stuff.

They used to do a bit where they talked about people who have the wrong kind of luck. One example was a guy who was cruising on a lake on his brand new jet ski and a duck flew in his path and took his head clean off.

Well, I like to think that I win the “Unlucky Lottery” every time I fly.

Here I am, all alone in the next best seat to Business Class and I smell something reminiscent of cat urine. The culprit?

Yep. It smelled like cat piss. And it was a culprit.

Halfway into the flight, one of the Flight Attendants stopped to speak with the cat piss foot culprit’s daughter who had, apparently vomited on herself.

Flight attendant (FA): Are you taking any medication?

Cat Piss Culprit’s Daughter (CPCD): Yes, Antibiotics.

FA: For what?

CPCD: Infection.

My ears started ringing. I tried to sit perfectly centered on my seat as to block any potential germ penetration.

Naturally, the Flight Attendant then asked, “Would you like some chicken soup?”

CPCD: Yes.

No.

No you do not want chicken soup.

But I do.

In case you’re wondering what someone looks like when they fly for 13 hours, here it is, condensed to a little more than a minute.

Riveting.

For the last 55 minutes, I stared at this, while I wondered if my tail bone would ever be the same:

The approach to Tokyo looks like this:

Once you pass through immigration, you are welcomed by a sign that says, “If you were ill during your travels, come to this area.” I probably should have stopped, preemptively.

I was intimidated by the health specialist, so I balked at a photo. I did grab this photo, though, once I passed him.

Shortly thereafter, I passed through baggage collection and then customs. Upon exiting the terminal, I was greeted by one of the Champsys hosts, Shinya.

We had some time to kill while we waited for Jamey “The Dangler” Driscoll, so we did what anyone would do upon arriving in Tokyo.

Having recently spent a month in Brooklyn, Shinya had no problem sharing a Starbucks with me.

I had no idea what time it was.

The Dangler was late, though, I did know that.

I used the airport bathroom and when I came back, Shinya had Jamey in his possession.

We hopped in a minivan from the future and headed to meet Chiharu, Ryoji, and Christian Heule for dinner, but that’s for another time.

Wait up, Sven Nys

Sat, 28 Jan 2012 08:45:58 -0500

Here’s your chance to ride behind Sven Nys.

This is 3:28 of the Worlds course in Koksijde. Some of the sand dunes seem more rideable than in the past.

Thanks, again, to Christian Heule:

UCI, Eat Your Heart Out.

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 18:51:51 -0500

More GoPro goodness from Christian Heule. This time, it’s from the World Cup at Hoogerheide, NED.

I was going to accuse Christian of playing this video slightly sped up, but then I would be an idiot.

Congratulations, Christian, your “Exclusive Access” footage has won you the Twitter battle. Send me Swiss Chocolate.

I Will Smash You Down For Ever.

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 06:38:15 -0500

Cannondale p/b CyclocrossWorld rider, Christian Heule, snuck a GoPro into the World Cup at Lievin this weekend.

The course looks surprisingly greasy in Christian’s footage. Many referred to this race as a “grass crit,” but this footage indicates it was a little more complicated than that…

As much as I hate to promote the Twitter account of Christian Heule (we have been in a heated battle for followers, until he posted this stupid video and has since run away in the race), my “love of the sport” leaves me no choice.

That, and he says things like this to me:

ROADTRIP

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 22:41:13 -0500

Five hours and 29 minutes from now, I will be getting in THE VAN.

After a brief stop in Jamaica Plain to pick up The Wilcox, we will point THE VAN west.

Destination: Madison.

Operation: #cxnats

Last time we did this, we drove 46 hours longer and we had a well-caffeinated Thom P to ease the burden. Thom has moved on to airplanes this year, but we know he misses the days of old.

He, too, will be missed.

Honestly, how hard can 19 hours be?

Ask The Wilcox after 19 hours.

Rumor has it he was a Peace Studies major in college. Time to put that degree to the test.

Updates are a coming, from the Ro Ad.

Thanks to my 2004 SUPER COMPUTER, you can all waste an hour on...

Mon, 02 Jan 2012 10:16:37 -0500

Thanks to my 2004 SUPER COMPUTER, you can all waste an hour on this vintage footage. Check out Ben Berden!

Too steep. And slippery.

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 18:58:07 -0500

Too steep. And slippery.