Wednesday 28 October 2009

William Bubble Maker

My son is 32 months old and had, until today, been the chaser of bubbles blown by bigger boys.

On our way to the park and we stopped to get some new balls we could kick around. The selection at the store was not up to snuff so we settled on some bubbles. Then we made our way to the park.

It was a beautiful sunny, fall day: Leaves on the ground, crisp cool breeze and a playground.

There were a few other kids there for William to climb, swing and slide with but he was set on the bubbles from the start.

It is very difficult to get him to not try so hard sometimes. Once he applies himself he is single minded in his pursuit and nothing will dissuade him.

I have seen him drip with sweat while he tries to get the ball into the basket. He will run himself ragged, exhausted and stumbling until he can make that basket, kick the ball where he wants, get his bike going fast enough or positioned just right or hit that ball with his bat.

He had no problem opening the soap bubble bottle or working the wand around so it was good and soapy and then positioning it the correct distance and orientation from his lips. But when he blew it was too hard and the end result was soapy water running down his hand and a distinct lack of bubbles in the air.

"Not so hard, William. Easy, easy."

Blowing. Soapy hands and no bubbles.

"Easy...easy...eeee....zzzzz"

A bubble.

"Easy..."

More bubbles. Dip, dip blow. A stream of bubbles!

Dip, dip, blow. A plethora of bubbles big and small! Success! Triumph! Yet another piece of the universe brought under control.

More bubbles and smaller children chasing them. Big bubbles that would float up to the tress and smaller bubbles that would pop before they hit the ground.

No longer would William be the chaser of bubbles blown by bigger boys. Now he was William: Bubble Maker King!

Yesterday morning, in the park, all was right in the universe.

Monday 19 October 2009

Race Report 19 October 2009

Photobucket

If the truth be told I've been a little pissed at some of my team mates of late for their lack of organization and the dysfunctional nature of their communication.

This race just reinforced that feeling with some.

I got up a Zero Dark:30 to go meet with the guys and drive to the race. Luckily the start was only an hour away. It was a point to point RR so the finish was 2 1/2 hours away. Fine and dandy and off we go.

We get there on time, get pinned, warmed up, a few runs to the bathroom, chat chat here, chat chat there and it's time to stage. It was warm and sunny and windy as all get out. As the course ran along the coast and then climbed over to the other coast and wound back around to the finish it promised to be a long day of headwind.

It didn't disappoint.

The plan for me was to sit in for the first 1 1/2 hours and then hang on over the first climb crossing to the other coast. If I was still in the main bunch I was then going to drive the pace to help our designated guy get placed in the 5 km between the bottom of the descent and the base of the finishing climb.

That was our plan.

The problem is our frame sponsor, CKT, is also the former National Team coach. I've raced against his teams for a decade so we're pretty familiar with one and other. Since we had numbers and horsepower at this race he decided that we should try to get 3 or 4 guys into an early break and ride away from the race.

Not such a bad idea since our real climber isn't racing as he is headed for some racing in Korea with the National Team.

As I roll to the start I see the CKT coach/sponsor standing there inserting us at the front of the bunch on the line. Fine. All the cats are racing together and there are 440guys so it's safer to be there at the start of the neutral anyway.

Speaches, pictures, horns, bang and we roll away. We have 6km of neutral and we're racing. Immediately the National Team kids are active. There's a flurry of attacks, counters and just a mess on the front.

Nothing gets more than 10 seconds and everyone wants to chase.

This goes on for the better part of an hour with pauses scattered here and there. The wind is getting stronger and we still have all the climbing to do.

We tried probably 10 or more different moves with a different mix of riders and we were getting nowhere.

Finally that moment arrives.

I am sitting about 20 spots back and I see 4 of our guys slotting in at the front. The pace winds up and they gutter the bunch. This looks good. I jump to the front and put my head down. I hold it above 50kph for as long as I can but the wind is brutal. I glance back as I pull off and I can see it is strung out pretty far back.

My team mate pulls through and he takes a dig. The elastic is stretching and gaps are forming. Guys are jumping across but you can almost see the tension and that it's about to snap.

There is a 20m gap 7 riders down which puts 5 of us plus 2 other guys in the right spot. I slide out of the draft and glance back. I sense that one more good hard pull will be enough to cause a few people to sit up and for the gaps to suddenly explode open. Once that happens it takes a few minutes for the chase to get organized at the front and, by that time, we are away.

I slide to the front and give it one more dig. As I pull off I think that must have done it. It wasn't everything I had but it was enough.

Then I glance back.

At the front of the group about 50m back is one of our young team mates. He has buried himself trying to hang on and has given a dozen guys behind him just enough of a break that they come around him and start to work towards us.

Our puppy eliminated the chaos. He took the hesitation away and let the strong, determined riders move to the front. There is a chase and we only have 50m. This is going nowhere. This was our move, it was the right moment and now it has passed.

I sit up.

As the kid rolls past my team mate, he collars him and gives him an earful. The kid has no idea why.

So now we are all back together, I've used a lot of jam and we still have to climb.

I drink. I eat and I hide for about 20km. Then we hit the rollers before the first 3 step climb. Luckily the wind is in our faces so it takes the edge off of the skinny kids. They are at the front driving it but I manage to claw my way up and over with the front group and move up during the descent.

At this point our designated guy has been near the front too long. I also don't remember seeing him eat. We finally hit the finish climb. The first section I use my 39x26, I'm out of the saddle and going left, right, left, right and I'm not the only one.

The climbers ride away from me on the front and the race falls away from me behind. I have contact and I'm in the top 10 or 15 or so but I'm not catching anyone. There is no one to be seen behind me either.

I climb to our designated guy and he is toast. I pace him to the finish.

Overall we placed riders on the podium and I won my age category. I think I was between 10 and 15th spot overall which I'm pretty happy with considering it was a climbing finish.

Next up is a flat circuit that is all about power.

Then a 190km RR two weeks after that.

The season just never ends.

Saturday 22 August 2009

Initiating Tactics - "The Plan"

19 August 2009

I have a race on Saturday that is a selection race for a National Championship race. It is a mass start RR but limited (the selection) to riders from the city I live in and the county (like a state).

Basically each major city and county can take 6 riders to the National Championship. Ok, simple enough. Here comes the interesting part.

My team has riders from both the city and the county. I am unable to qualify, because I'm a white guy, even if I won the race outright. No big deal, I've been in this position before.

So my goal is to help as many guys from my team qualify for the Nationals (or National Team Selection race I really have no idea).

So today we hashed out some tactics.

It involves 4 guys going to the front on the first lap, hammering their brains out and then a rabbit goes (into the headwind section) just after we start lap 2 of 7. The idea is we are supposed to see who marks him or, if he is joined by another strong rider, to give him a shot at the long break. This involves blocking.

At some point (around 5~6 of 7) were are supposed to attack and form a break with our 4 riders who already have points and myself. My job then becomes to a) drive the break and/or b) shed the unwanted cargo.

Pretty ambitious, non?

Here's how it played out:

22 August 2009

Went to the front at the gun to string things out. All the newbs, who were supposed to be there, were nowhere to be seen. Some of the other team mates contributed and then our team "captain' (yup, you heard me right, 'captain' - this guy was offered the role as a joke during a team meeting and he took the job) goes on a flyer.

Not quite the plan (the one he helped create) but we adapt. He's joined by another guy and we watch. Then two of our puppies go to the front and pick up the pace. I yell at them and they skulk to the back again.

Second lap and our guy goes as originally planned. He's joined by another and we watch again. Attacks start as it becomes clear that everyone wants a piece of this action. I also figure out who is marking me - everyone! Any move I make draws an immediate response from the entire group. Sucks to be me.

So there are a series of attacks, bridges, counters etc and it becomes clear that it's going to be tough to get a break to stick. The good thing is we are shedding riders and now we are down to about 25 guys. The bad news is we all know each other far too well.

Finally, there are 3 team mates and another guy up the road and I surprise the group and get a gap. I work across to the break and then we are joined by two other riders. We are 7 being chased by 15 or 16 guys. We get an echelon going and I think this move should stick...but 1/2 lap later it doesn't.

Counter, counter and the pace is way up again.

Then I flat.

Crap.

I look behind and there is no neutral bike. Nothing. I turn around, ride 2 km back to the start, borrow a wheel and chase.

And chase and chase and chase, throw up a little in my mouth, and chase some more until the bell lap. I've clawed back a little time but the gap is way too large. I was hoping to catch the back markers but all I caught were a couple of lone riders who were spit out at some point. Neither one can work with me or even hold on for more than a km or two. They are cooked and I'm on my way to joining them in CookedVille.

Coming into the bell lap I do something I almost never do. I stop. I DNF.

Even when I get shelled, no matter how bad, I finish up. Here I just decide that it is too hot (It was REALLY HOT) and that there is absolutely no reason for me to keep going. If I stop I can at least see the finish of the race.

So I stop. I hand over my number. I prop my bike against the van, I rinse my face and try to smile for whoever this guy with the camera is. I also make sure I am still wearing the new glasses I got that morning from our new eyewear sponsor - XForce.

Here's the kicker.

In found myself in the weird position recently of defending the UCI. My point was that they set regulations for races and, good or bad, you know how everything works, where to go and what to do.

As I am sitting there waiting for the finish I see a neutral wheel bike pull up. WTF!!! Where the hell was this guy when I flatted? I seems that he thought it was too hot (here I can empathize - it was HOT) so he decided to just sit under a tree with the wheels and if we had a problem we could just go there. Of course he didn't tell anybody - he just decided this on his own.

Did I mention that this was a circuit race - not a crit? The funny thing is he was sitting under a tree only a few hundred yards up the road from where I flatted. I never saw him and, if I had, I never would have guessed that he was the 'official' neutral wheel guy and I could get a wheel from him. I doubled back at least 2 km to the start, explained that I needed a wheel, changed it myself and then chased my brains out.

So, my team mate won the sprint from a break, we qualified at least 6 of our riders and I got a pretty decent workout.

The plan worked pretty much as we wanted with the some adaptations on the way. We knew we wanted to shell riders early and win from a break and we did. We qualified most of the guys we wanted to so, as a team effort, it was successful.

I've decided to take tomorrow off as I am going to drink many wobbly pops tonight.

I think this was one of those times when the bear ate me.

Sunday 14 June 2009

Race Report - 14 June 2009


There's nothing in the rule book that says an elephant can't pitch.

I love racing in the rain as long as it's not a crit.

So many people just shut down. They just don't have the heart. In fact if its going to rain I want thunder and hail and wind and blinding rain. Locusts are a bit over the top, though.

Today was 102km of flat, flat flat road. I think the undulations accounted for less that 200m in elevation gain for the entire day.

As usual the communication with my team was...awry. I was reg'd in my age cat. I usually ride Elite (with the rest of my team) but today I was on my own. All the age groups started together so we were several hundred riders on the line.

From the gun I went to the front and cranked it up. I didn't want anyone around me who couldn't hold a line. A few guys contributed and after 20km or so the group was down to 50-60 mixed cat riders. Mission accomplished.

Then we slipped into the usual negative racing; No one wanted to work but everyone would chase. It makes me crazy.

The course was an out and back course on a section of closed highway. We started a few km from one turnaround rode out to the first turnaround and then past the start point to the get to second turnaround. No two laps were exactly the same length. It was kind of weird.
The turnarounds were on-off ramps at either end.

After trying to keep the pace up and a few attacks that saw the entire field chasing me I decided to sit in for a bit, eat some food and go again at the 45km turn around point.

As we went up the on ramp back onto the highway I jumped. It wasn't an out of the saddle jump I just sat and wound it up. I was hoping to get a gap and then to have some guys finally come across to me a while later.

I got my gap and settled in.

I rode and rode and rode.

When I finally looked back I was alone. The race was gone. It was just me and the lead moto and some wet, rainy pavement. I put my head down.

15km later I started to catch dropped riders from the Elite race that left several minutes before us. I fixed my eyes on them and drove. As I came up on them I'd slow for a few seconds, sit in their draft and try to recover for a moment. Then I'd turn it on again.

Once we reached the turnaround I realized that no one was working across to me. Since I was racing alone (with out a radio) this was a bit of a surprise. Back up onto the highway and I settled in and then the group went past me on the other side. I had slightly over a minute with 35km of headwind and rain and then the turnaround and 5km of tailwind back to the finish.

This didn't look so good.

Damn. I'm going to get sucked in and then I'm going to be cooked for the hairy sprint that will inevitably follow. Some guy who has sucked wheel all day will take this one.

Crap.

I'd noticed that the lead moto (well a 150cc motorscooter actually) wasn't being all that careful with his placement on the road. I moved up so that I was getting a tiny bit of cross draft from him. My speed went up about 1kph.

Huh.

I also noticed that he was wearing the uniform of one of the teams that was chasing me. Shaved legs, too? This guy was a rider.

I slipped a little closer to the bike. He didn't move. I pushed it and got closer. He saw me in his mirror and turned the throttle a little bit. He pulled away but I was still getting some draft. I nailed it and got right on him. He turned the throttle again but we were only going 50kph. I could sit in this no problem.

I sat on this moto for a solid 5km. I increased my gap and got a bit of recovery. Then I slipped off him again and back into the wind.

I've always been told that it is his responsibility to not get in my way or to place his moto or drive in such a manner as to affect the outcome of the race. Yet, here he had allowed me to draft him while his team chased behind.

Huh.

Back in the wind I managed to keep it up until I was just a few km before the final turnaround. I thought I was cooked. My power dropped off sharply and my speed went way down. I was out of gas. I hadn't eaten enough for this kind of effort (I was in the 950 cal/hr range).

I ground it out until I finally reached the last turnaround (the spot where I'd attacked). Down, around and back up onto the highway. 5km to go and a tailwaind. At 4km to go I passed the group going the other way. I had a 2km lead with 4 to go. Nothing to stop me now except a complete bonk or a puncture.

A Puncture?

I was raining. Punctures are far more likely in the rain...a puncture...a puncture...puncture...punc...just keep the speed up...if I just hold the low 40's they'd have to be going over 60 to catch me at the line. Is that right? I can never do that math.

3 to go. The moto guy just showed me 3 to go. I saw the sign though but thanks for the heads up moto guy.

Man I'm cooked. I'm going to eat everything in the team car.

2.5 to go. Anyone behind me? Was I right about the gap I had? What if it was only 1km? How fast would they have to go to get me at the line?

I can never do the math.

2 to go.

No one there.

Head down, eyes up and keep the legs turning.

Hey, I can see the finish banner and the people.

Look back. No one there.

1km to go.

No one there.

I see some dropped riders from the Elite race rolling across the line. I don't want them in the picture. Ease off a tad so I can roll in alone.

500m.

Zip up. Pull the jersey down. Is it the arms in the air? Blowing kisses? The number one? Or the point at the sponsors logo?

I'll decide at the line.

100m.

50m. Sit up. It's almost done.

God I'm cooked.

Hey! Who's this jitbag on my wheel?!

Crap!

Oh...hang on. He's one of the dropped guys from the other race.

Cross the line. I go with the "Point at the Sponsor's Logo".

Damn, the jitbag spoiled the picture.

Friday 5 June 2009

Spontaneous Human Construction.

I once made a quip to a friend that he could name any time on any day in the next 6 months and I could tell him exactly where I'd be and precisely what I'd be doing.

He did and I could.

I was only a little surprised by this. My friend thought I was making it up as I went along but he has since come to realize that I was being completely honest.

I have a tight schedule. It's true. To do all the things I want and need to do there is no other way. I have a steady contract job for 30hrs a week, a consulting job for another 10, a small business, a wife, a step daughter and a 2 year old. I also race my bike from time to time, play poker, eat too much good food, drink too much good wine and sleep too little.

The only way to manage this is to construct my life in such a way as to have clearly delineated blocks of time devoted to specific activities or serving certain functions. From x to x I train. I have 60 minutes to shower, shave, eat and be on my way to my next activity. Once that is done I have 30 minutes to have coffee at the local caffeine hut with some fellow addicts and then I have 3 hours where I do something else specific. On on and on.

So is this a good thing or a bad thing? Am I being efficient with my time or does my life lack any spontaneity? I guess it is a glass half full or glass half empty question.

I know one thing, you can't mix the two.

To train properly requires structure and discipline. It's pretty tricky to sustain this if the rest of your life is a mess. I know I can't do it. If I'm not fairly organized in my life and how I approach all of the things that I do then that spills over into my training. If I have a decent handle on my life then the training structure seems to fall into place.

But does this mean that all spontaneity has to go? Isn't there any wiggle room here? I've never been successful at planning time to be spontaneous. It just never works out.

Maybe I'm painting too grim a picture here. Maybe there is spontaneity in my life after all but it's simply taken on a different form that it had when I was a twenty-something.

When I was a swinging dick I could pile into a car with a buddy and drive half way across the county with $100 in my pocket and then hitch-hike home. That was pretty spontaneous.

When it was summer and I was young I could decide to not get up from the my sandy, well molded plot of sand on the beach, and to have another cold one instead and to go to class...tomorrow.

When the music was right and we were feeling alright I could choose the brunette over the blonde. That would be pretty spontaneous.

But that was spontaneity when I was young.

Things are a little different now.

Now I can choose to turn left instead of right on my Tuesday ride. I can choose to do 1 minute or 5 minute intervals. I can choose orange or lemon stuff to put in my water bottle.

Or I can spend ANY amount of time with my son. When you spend time with a 2 year old it's pretty hard to lay down any concrete plans. He likes to play baseball with daddy, or basketball with daddy or soccer with daddy or some kind of baseketsoccerpuzzleduckykickrunfalldownball with daddy. The few hours I get to play with him most every day are probably the most spontaneous of my adult life.

I can also choose what restaurant to go to with my wife (actually I can suggest but she can choose). I can also choose to order pizza or cook a nice meal at home.

I can choose which Japanese beer, French wine or Russian vodka will accompany me to our weekly poker game. I can even choose to play sober and maybe win some money. Heck, I can even decide to stay home!

Looked at this way, realizing that perhaps I was mistaking spontaneity with a lack of responsibility, helps me whenever I feel that the repercussions of just ditching whatever else I've got going on that day and pissing into the wind would be just too great.

I've come to realize that the time I've blocked in over the next few hours to do something that I'm not all that thrilled about affords me the time that I've blocked in to do things that are a benefit to those I care about or are things I truly enjoy.

Maybe having a family, two jobs, a start up and racing my bike isn't a jam packed, tied down, responsibility laden life but is a full, balls to the wall, getting something out of every minute lifestyle that leads somewhere.

Oh perspective how I love you.

And now we dance!

Saturday 28 February 2009

Pindung County - 28 Feb 2008

This was my first race back and my first race with my new team: CKT. I will start another thread about my new frame later.

And now a word from our sponsor: It's the all new EXCUSE-O-MATIC! No matter what the occasion just thwack the dial and the all new EXCUSE-O-MATIC will spit out a totally useful excuse for you.*

*Not suitable for all ages.

I've been working my arse off for the last 2 weeks and my training has suffered. I knew this going in so adjusted my goals. Results weren't important. I wanted to define roles and execute tactics. I also like to sell swampland in Florida.

The race was a breezy affair. There was a 94km (shortened?) section of gentle rollers and flat flats followed by a 16km climb with tons of pitches above 10%. The latter part was certainly not designed with me in mind. (Unless it was designed by my wife to torture me).

All of the cats started together (it was a point-to-point) so there were over 600 riders. I staged late and so had to start near the back. During the neutral I managed to work my way to the very front where I had a short time to catch up with an old team mate. Then the lead motos pulled off and we were racing.

I always need a good hard jump to open my legs and today was no exception. At 2km in I saw another former team mate jump and so I decided to bridge. This I did, then we both sat up and now we had a brief chance to catch up before we were swamped by the group.

He told me he'd gone to Singapore to have some surgery done on his knee and today was the first test. He then told me he was going to drop out before the climb so I shouldn't follow him. I then asked him what the hell made him ever think I would try to follow him on a climb. We laughed. We cried. Good times.

Because the course was so unfavourable to me and all the cats were racing together, I told my team mates that I would do what I could to keep the group together so they could sit in and fight for a podium spot on the climb. This is what I set about doing.

There was a series of attacks which produced a series of doomed breaks. The Tiachung County team was controlling the front pretty well. But then one of their guys would go in a move and they would have 4 guys at the front setting false tempo. I watched a few breaks start to roll away from us and each time I got to the front and put my head down.

I selected a 13-26 because of the climbing. I found myself spun out as we maintained 50km/h+ on the flats and I topped out at 59km/h. I know exactly when this happened because I had spun out my 13. I actually wanted my 12. Who'd a thunk it?

This went on until we hit the bottom of the climb and the road pitched up above 10%. I fought to hang on but I eventually popped. I struggled to hang on but felt like I was sliding backwards as rider after rider I hadn't seen all day rode away from me.

I finished mid-fodder. At least I never saw the back marker.

I probably could have done better on the climb if I'd sat in (maybe main fodder group) but it really wouldn't have done much for me. I had one team mate who was second in his cat, another 4th and a third was 6th. We also lost one rider to a crash.

All in all it was exactly what a first race should be. I was active at the front, got some good jersey time (although a camera truck almost took us all down when the driver decided it would make a better shot if he switched from the right side of the road to the left while he was 5 feet in front of the lead rider. Idjit.) and got a good idea of what I have in the tank. I can now adjust my training accordingly.

Time: 2:32
NP: 296
Max HR: I may have discovered a new high (208?) but I think it was interference from some Taiwan Radar jamming station pointing at a mainland Chinese fighter buzzing their airspace.
Result: I don't think they have numbers that go that high in Chinese.

Saturday 7 February 2009

The Call

Let's just start by backing the truck up a bit here.

I stopped racing in late 2007. Stopped riding soon after that. Early 2008 I was going crazy and decided I wanted to start racing again.

I started training, got injured, got sick or had real life get in the way. Rinse, repeat. 2008 was a write off. But I had base.

Enter 2009. Consistent training over a few months and starting to feel a little frisky on my last few rides and at the last training race.

A regular job, a start up, a family and a nasty cycling habit makes for a pretty tight schedule. But there are times when things are ticking along nice and steady.

Then there's the call.

It took me back to the call I received when my father was dying. It was early afternoon and I was getting ready for a ride. I was on the next plane, taking off, 6 hours later. I traveled 24 hours straight to get to my father. He died when we were in the car leaving the airport on our way to the hospital.

The last time I touched my father's hand it was already cold.

This is what I thought of when the owner of the small company for which I work told me had had received the call last night and could I cover for him if he really needed to go home.

"Of Course."

I have a new team for 2009 and although it is a rather rag-tag bunch there are a few riders I like. I also I think I may actually see two diamonds who currently ride like coal. It could be possible to cook this unruly group down to 6 core riders for 2010.

There is a race in 3 weeks that suits my skills more than my fitness. This is good. The first 100km are rolling and flat and a bit technical. Then there is a 14 climb. Ok. So I'm out. But, there is another rider on our team who is riding well and is pretty smart.

I want to work to keep the tempo up (actually get others to do it for me) and then place him in the lower section of the climb. After that he needs help from someone else on the team or he's on his own.

It's early season so the real goal is to execute tactics. ANY tactics, as a group. A good result would be a plus but cohesion is the first step.

I've worked for a lot of people and I can't say it's been very often that I've truly liked the people I was working for. I think I'm very fortunate to consider my employer to also be my friend. And this was a friend who just got the call.

My father was sick for years. The doctors had him so heavily medicated and cross medicated that he would sleep away most of the day in naps or sometimes only get up to eat and watch a little TV. There were several things wrong with him but nothing that was terminal or immanent.

Once I was older and no longer lived in the same city as my family if the phone rang late at night this was the thought that jarred me from sleep. When I finally did receive the call it was daytime and it had pretty much the opposite effect; Everything that followed, for days, felt like a dream. They kept telling me that this was normal and it happened to a lot of people.

"Ok."

And then I was back home and back on the schedule and half a world away.

I remember seeing footage of Delgado climbing off of his bike while in yellow and getting into his team car. His mother had died and he just couldn't go on.

Even for the man in yellow real life gets in the way.

I saw a bit of all that in my friends eyes reflected back at me when he asked me if I could put in some extra time so he could go home: If he really had to.

"Of course."

The race will still happen. I will still go. I may have to hide in the bunch a bit more. Especially in the second 50km. We haven't raced together as a group but we should be able to place our guy in the front group when the selection happens if I can get one or two of the other team mates to pitch in when I ask them. If we can execute it will be a good start to a new season.

I've always felt that jumping right back in is good. It gets things going again. Gets the head back in the game. How you do is not so important.

The thing I remember the clearest was the strap in my hand and that when we were told to lower the casket I couldn't. I knew I was supposed to but my hands wouldn't unclench. My uncles and the funeral director had began to let the straps slide through their hands, and my fathers' casket inched its' way away from me, but my hands wouldn't let go. No matter how hard I tried and for the briefest of moments I could not let go.

Then a shallow breath and my grip slackened.

Results don't matter for this one.