After narrowly surviving last night's criterium in Reno, I'm back in Portland now, grateful to be alive and ambulatory. Though I did escape with two fully functional hips, my bike and the team's grasp on the race lead were not so fortunate. Here's the short version of a very, very long 90 minutes:

For the first 30 minutes of the race, due to the combined effects of being 4000 ft above sea level and posessing very limited fitness, I basically just tried to keep from choking on my own tongue. Then, just when things started calming down and I was finally starting to feel useful again, another rider dove inside of me on a corner, clipped his bars on a hay bale, and sent me to the pavement. Anybody else sensing a trend appearing? Worse yet, I went down on my right side, site of my freshly healed hip. Fortunately it happened on an uphill section of road, the speed was low, and I managed not to break any bones. But the impact did snap my handlebars clean in half. That earned me a ride on a Shimano neutral bike that was hastily adjusted to my approximate position and I was thrown straight back into the mix. After a few laps of getting used to the new bike, I made my way to the front for a hard 45 minutes or so of trading turns at the front to keep things in control for Karl.

With 4 laps and about 8 minutes of racing left, I decided that I wasn't going to be of much more use, so I pulled off at the pit to return the spare bike to the Shimano guys. Then I made my way down to the finish line to watch the end of the race, which due to the work we had done, should have been simply a formality for Karl. We had allowed two riders who were far down the overall to stay about 1 minute off the front, and since the race was an omnium and only points mattered, Karl simply needed to finish in the top 15 or so to hold onto the overall lead. Call it greedy if you'd like, I prefer ambitious, but he decided that he might as well try to take the field sprint for third anyway. From where I stood I couldn't see the final corner, but I heard the terrible shotgun-blast sound of Karl's rear tire blowing off the rim, then I saw spectators scrambling away as he slid across the road and slammed into the barrier fencing. That meant no finishing points and no overall win. Despite the dramatic appearance of the crash, Karl was basically fine. He just needed a few stitches to his upper lip. My former teammate, Alex Candelario, also went down in the crash but he too came out without serious injury.

So it was a climactic but largely unsatisfying end to my first weekend back to racing. But I didn't let that deter me from heading out to see a bit of Reno beyond the casino walls. It was just as I expected: interesting. Garrett and I set out looking for a restaurant and ended up on a few dark backstreets in the middle of a manhunt. We were repeatedly spotlighted by a passing patrol car and an overhead police helicopter. Then, on my way back to the hotel a couple hours later I found a cab that was waiting for fares outside of a strip club. Garrett had stayed out so I was alone at this point. The cab driver obviously assumed (falsely, I must assert) that I had just come out of said strip club and that, as a result, I must be a bit wound up from the "look no touch" policy. So he started the hard sell on a so-called "ranch run" to the brothels outside of town. No more than $15 to get me there, he claimed. Much better looking girls than the strip club, he claimed. He seemed genuinely disappointed in me when I assured him that I simply wanted to go to my hotel. It appeared to make no sense to him. But after finally dropping the brothel idea, the cabbie started extolling the virtues of his obviously deranged hometown: you can buy liquor, assault rifles, and hookers all on the same street corner here, he said. Paradise. I should really come back soon, he said. And be sure to try out the brothel next time.

I'm glad to be home.

Well, back to racing and what a way to return. I'm at the Tour de Nez in Reno, Nevada, and I'm getting to experience the place in all it's glory. We're staying at the Silver Legacy Casino and Hotel, which is part of the same complex as Circus Circus and the Eldorado. All three casinos are joined by walkways above street level, allowing the happy gamblers to wander between establishments without any outside indication of the passage of time. It's perpetual early evening in the casinos and always a good time for budweiser, cigarettes, and plunking change into the Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve slot machine. All while contemporary country music is played on the overhead intercom system. The perfect vacation.

Aside from the usual blue-haired types at the slot machines and the mullett-and-tank-top crowd at the all-night buffet, we're also sharing the hotel with the participants of the Reno Rodeo (preferred parking for duallies in the garage), the women's bowling tour (the promotional poster shows a woman bowling in a swimsuit), and some sort of high school volleyball tournament (packs of giggly 15 year olds with pink cell phones constantly at the ready). So, I guess a bunch of skinny cyclists in garishly colored lycra should fit right in.

The racing so far has gone reasonably well for the team. Karl put in a good time trial and won the first crit on Thursday, putting him in the leaders jersey. He managed 6th yesterday in the road race, which was enough to keep him narrowly in the lead. Now we have just one more criterium tonight in which to defend his lead. On a personal level, I'm feeling quite a bit better in the last couple of days. I've had some bad luck, getting caught behind a crash in the crit and getting a poorly timed flat tire in the road race, but I wasn't here for personal results anyway. It's just great to be a part of the team again. Since my crash in April, the guys have had an incredible run of results and I'm enjoying finally getting to be a part of it again. It's been tough just reading about it from home.

That's all for now. The slots are calling my name.

So I just watched Al Gore's new movie. Conveniently for me, it's playing at the Fox Tower in downtown Portland, which happens to be the nearest major movie theatre to my home. Not so conveniently (inconveniently, dare I say?) for everyone else in the metro area, it's only playing at the Fox Tower. What's the deal with that? Surely people in the suburbs are interested in more than superheroes and supposed ancient religious conspiricies, right?

But anyway, though I could have done with a few less shots of Al Gore purposefully walking through airports and contemplatively typing on his apple laptop, I can confidently call this the best movie I've seen in some time. The term "global warming" has become a bad cliche associated with birkenstocks, dreadlocks, and petitions to legalize marijuana. Most self-respecting people can't utter the words without blushing a bit. But this film should go a long way towards reversing that trend. Everyone needs to see it. I mean that. Especially my right-leaning friends and relatives who read this. I want some people who might otherwise avoid such a film to watch it, then post their opinion here. Debunk it, argue it, I want to hear it. Or at least provide a really good excuse as to why you don't plan to watch the movie. Personally, I left the theatre feeling really badly about myself and my role in the world, but at the same time resolving to do better. Most importantly, I left the theatre more informed than when I entered. How often can a person say that? I'll admit though, the film could have used a bit of self-flagellation or maybe an albino or two. And a car chase.

And, in case anybody is wondering, I am still a bike racer. As of last Friday I'm finally riding outdoors again. I'll be out at Mt. Tabor on Wednesday to let all the locals show me just how slow I've become after six weeks away. I fully expect a great deal of pain to be inflicted upon both me and my ego. It'll be fun.