After years of springtime suffering, I feel that I may be on to something.

As you’d expect, this has been extremely frustrating for reasons that don’t need to be spelled out. However, I feel like I am finally zeroing in on the root cause of everything—allergies and as a result of those, exercise induced asthma (EIA). If you have one or both of those issues, please read on and leave a comment to let me know if I’m on the right track here.

I’ve been to the doctor a few times but as I’m sure many cyclists and other elite athletes can attest, getting a “regular” doctor to sympathize with the issues many of us deal with—so what if I blew 750 on the pulmonary function test? I race bikes and have played the saxophone for 25 years—is often a losing battle. If you can walk up the stairs without getting winded, you are fine, right? So I’m enlisting the wisdom of the crowd to hopefully get a clearer picture of what’s going on.

A little history:

I never had allergies growing up. I never had asthma growing up. I knew plenty of kids who did, but I always assumed that it was something you either had or didn’t have. Now I am learning that you can develop both of those things later in life. But before I understood that and because I believed you either had those things or you didn’t, I never gave it any consideration as a possible cause of what I was experiencing. And for about the past 10 years, I would get sick in the springtime, that would turn into an infection, I’d go to the doctor, and they’d give me antibiotics to treat the infection. (Sidebar: therein lies a problem with the American healthcare system—treat the problem but don’t look into what caused the problem.) Then recently, just last month in the midst of my bi-annual 35-day concert tours, my roommate suggested that my problems may actually be stemming from allergies. You know, I think he was right.

What it feels like:

As I mentioned, based on my training consistency, fitness, and overall continued uptick in power profile during the off-season, there is no logical physical reason that my performance on the bike would take a nosedive once springtime arrives. If anything, I should be completely on form. Here’s a list of what happens and how I feel:

Generally:

• constant runny nose
• clogged sinuses

After intense efforts:

• coughing
• wheezing
• chest tightness
• mucus
• fatigue—right after the effort as well as for up to an hour after
• fatigue will persist during recovery periods off the bike

During races as well as intense interval sessions my body can perform up to a certain point but then will just completely shut down, like a switch has been flipped, or the plug pulled out. Following that reaction, it can take me up to 30-60 minutes before I can put any power at all into the pedals. From a respiratory standpoint, I feel like am breathing much harder than I need to for the power I am seeing displayed. It’s akin to being put into a high altitude situation when all your training has been at sea level. It kind of approaches a mild asphyxiation.

Steps I’ve taken so far:

At the suggestion of my tour roommate, I began taking OTC Zyrtec, which helped alleviate the runny nose and sinus symptoms commonly associated with allergies. (See why I think he was right?) Since then, I’ve received a prescription for Allegra and that has been just as helpful, if not more so. I still experience a slight runny nose when on the bike, but not like before. Though the allergy meds have helped with those two symptoms, I still haven’t found anything to address the second set of more problematic symptoms listed above.

That, of course, led me to do the dangerous thing of Googling my symptoms in an effort to figure out just what the hell is going on. Those search queries led me to some interesting literature on Exercise Induced Asthma, or EIA. And currently, that’s what I believe may be the culprit since it can be exacerbated by pollen allergies. I mean, the meds can help your symptoms, but you’re still breathing all the crap into your lungs, right? And that can really piss your lungs off, I would assume.

Some have suggested to me recently, that a combination of Rx allergy meds and something along the lines of Singulair is the 1-2 punch that could set me right in springtime. As of this writing, I’ve yet to bring this possibility up with my doctor—why the hell am I suggesting possible diagnoses to my doctor? Isn’t that their job? Sorry, I digress.—but am extremely interested to hear from others who may have experienced or are currently dealing with or treating something similar. I’ve also scheduled an appointment with an allergist to confirm what I suspect to be a pollen allergy.

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My new Selmer Series II gold plated alto saxophone neck

Recently, however, I’ve made one change that has stuck. I retired the gold Bay ligature in favor of a gold plated Ishimori. For me, the difference in response and sound was so dramatic that I haven’t looked back once and have been proselytizing on this ligature’s behalf ever since making the switch. My experience with the Ishimori has left me open to the idea that making changes based on quality rather than the latest fad (which is always what I’ve avoided) could lead to similar dramatic results in other areas of the saxophone.

One part of my saxophone that has needed a serious upgrade (or outright replacement) is my neck. I play on the stock neck that came with my horn. It possesses some qualities that I have grown to love in terms of how the air moves through the instrument, the tone quality it produces, and the intonation it enables. My neck has a very interesting story though and after hearing it you’ll wonder how I’ve played on it for the past 15 years.

Shortly after I purchased my saxophone, I was in a practice room at the University of Massachusetts – Amherst, playing some long tones in front of a mirror, when all of a sudden the neck popped and my head, mouthpiece still in my mouth, jerked like I’d just been rear-ended by someone doing 60mph. Turns out what happened was that the solder just under the ’80 Super Action’ engraving gave out, separating the neck from the joint that goes into the instrument. I had about a one-inch hole in the neck. I brought it to a local repair shop and they fixed it up. The blow torch they used ended up discoloring the bottom of the neck, however, and for years people would ask me what kind of neck I played on because of its new two-toned color. Nonetheless, it played fine and I was happy.

My stock Selmer Series II alto saxophone neck in all its beat up, soldered glory

Detail of the discoloration on my old neck due to the blowtorch

I played on that gold brass neck for about two months before it started to annoy me. Though I initially liked the tighter, more focused air column, I eventually found it to be extremely limiting to what I could produce both in terms of color and volume. It basically reminded me of my experience testing out a Vandoren Optimum mouthpiece, which is capable of making a very pretty sound, but one whose tone I find to be very one-dimensional and inflexible. Just not my style. But ultimately, the biggest issue I had with the gold brass neck was its lack of response at soft dynamics. The air just did not seem to move through the neck fast enough and I had a lot of trouble getting the tone to speak instantly upon an initial articulation and also consistently during extended soft articulated passages. I ended up selling it to my section mate and he sounds great on it; it turned out it just wasn’t the neck for me.

After that I temporarily suspended my quest for a new neck until this past month when I began considering a gold plated one. I’m not sure what exactly prompted my renewed interest in the idea, but it was enough for me to give Dave Kessler a call to talk shop about the possibility. I relayed my experience with the gold brass neck and what I considered its drawbacks in relation to how I play and what I was looking for in terms of tone quality, clarity, and response. Dave assured me that the gold plated neck possessed the qualities that I was looking for and that what I experienced with the gold brass neck was pretty much right in line with how that particular metal affects air flow and response. He asserted the gold plated version would basically feel exactly like my stock brass lacquered neck except that the response and clarity would more or less be amplified or magnified in the most positive of ways. That was good enough for me, so I decided to give it a try.

Another view of the new gold plated neck

The Selmer 'S' has a bit of a different look

From the very first notes I played, I immediately noticed a marked difference in how the air moved through the neck. One thing I love about my original brass lacquered neck is that it is fairly free blowing while still producing a very focused tone with a solid core. The gold plated neck exhibited that same quality, but felt much smoother and more elegant, as if the air simply zipped through the neck completely unencumbered. It’s like the difference between riding a bicycle on a freshly paved road as opposed to the grooved pavement before the new asphalt is poured. Or like seeing a lake appear glassy on a windless day and those same waters looking choppy as a result of 20+ mph winds. There was a noticeable difference in how open, or easily the air moved through the neck, throughout the saxophone’s entire range. This was particularly evident in the palm keys, which miraculously retained just about the same feeling as a low Bb.

In terms of response, again, true to its billing, the gold plated neck delivered a similar result compared to my original neck. However, still wary of my experience with the gold brass neck, I immediately zeroed in on how the gold plated neck would perform at softer dynamics. From the feedback I was getting, this neck definitely delivers. If there is any difference at all in response either positive or negative, I was unable to detect it after careful attention on the first go around.

Another area of concern when switching necks is the ramifications it can have on one’s intonation. In the past, I’ve tried a few necks that were absolutely horrid in terms of what they did to the scale of my saxophone. Thankfully, given all its positive attributes, this wasn’t the case with the new gold plated neck. My ear detected no significant changes in intonation and that was confirmed with a tuner. If anything, the scale is improved slightly and I am pleased that the neck comes with no learning curve whatsoever.

All in all, I am extremely satisfied with both the performance and feel of the gold plated neck. As I continue to explore it within different performance contexts I’ll be sure to update this post with any additional thoughts, comments, or issues.

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Special thanks to my wife Molly, Tom Sheridan, Kris Auer, and Twenty20 Cycling Company. The music is “Dime Piece (Instrumental)” by J Dilla from The Shining. You can read all my daily Festive 500 ride reports and see the photos I took and some shorter videos I made along the way by clicking here.

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Distance: 27 km
Time: 1:08

I realized that throughout the entire Rapha Festive 500 I had neglected an old friend. In the northeast corner of Baltimore City is a small reservoir known as Lake Montebello. Around its 2.2km circumference is a road as well as dedicated bike and pedestrian lanes. As it has new asphalt, no stop signs (in the bike lane, at least), is completely flat, and is not overrun by inconsiderate dog owners who think a 20-foot leash is a good idea, Lake Montebello provides the perfect, controlled environment for intervals and sprints. It’s a place I ride at least twice a week during normal training but hadn’t visited at all during the Festive 500 because nothing is less epic than riding around in a 2km circle for two, three, or four hours.

But since I’d completed the Challenge the previous day and had nothing in particular left to prove, I decided I’d head over to Montebello for an easy, no strings attached, recovery spin. I did a few laps hoping to run into the group of five or so recreational riders I call the Lake Montebello All-Stars—generally older riders who follow local racing like most of us follow pro cycling—to shoot the shit, but even despite the favorable weather they were nowhere to be found. It was New Year’s Eve, after all, and there were other things to think about. For me, that included dinner at Cinghiale, a movie at home, getting back to the regular training plan, and putting together a recap video of my Rapha Festive 500 rides. 556km later, thanks for following along on this journey and keep an eye out for the video.

Just the facts:

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Distance: 66 km
Time: 2:31

It’s kind of strange. Today’s ride put me over 500km for the Rapha Festive 500—530km total—but I’m not feeling any particular or special sense of accomplishment. It’s not even that there’s one more day for the Challenge and therefore one more chance to add to my total distance that I don’t feel as though I’ve reached any sort of conclusion. There’s really never any sense of an ending, is there? I originally thought that I’d do a long effort tomorrow to try to break into the top 100 for total distance, but seeing as how some people have gone absolutely batshit crazy, I’m not sure it’s worth it or if I even care. Maybe I’ll go for a long ride tomorrow and maybe I’ll just take it easy; I’ll just have to see what I feel like.

It’s kind of ironic that I wrote recently about the meaninglessness of miles and here I am engaged in a Challenge that rewards reaching a specific distance goal. But as I mentioned in my first Festive 500 post, motivation can appear in many forms, and having something other than the training plan to get me to go out and ride at the end of December was definitely a welcome change and infused a sense of adventure in my riding that I sometimes lose sight of. The photo above sort of represents every ride I do. I leave Baltimore City by heading north on Falls Road, and return home heading south on the same road. It’s what I’ve done each day for the Festive 500, what I’ve done for years before the Festive 500, and what I’ll continue to do after the Festive 500. Riding a bike is an awesome journey.

Just the facts:

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Distance: 58 km
Time: 2:03

I had a devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other today. The devil was telling me that with 405km logged for the Festive 500, that I should just go out and lay down 100km to finish it off and still have two days left to add to the tally. The angel said that there were three days left and therefore no hurry, especially since three consecutive 4+ hour days can take a toll on a man, and if we wanted to avoid a possible Christmas hero / July zero situation, that I should simply do a 2-hour ride on one of my staple routes. In this instance, the angel won and I opted for the shorter effort. However, during the ride the devil reappeared and made me do it—not a longer ride, but something else. Let me explain.

Before the Festive 500, I didn’t know what Strava was. But since Rapha seemed to have some kind of deal with them, I created an account and started logging my Rapha rides there as well as on Garmin Connect, which I’ve been embedding. Basically Strava is a lot like Garmin Connect only there’s a much more integrated social component that allows you to not only follow other riders but to see course records (and where you stack up) for big climbs or circuits around the areas you ride. I’m not really one to be all macho and Type A about crap like that but today for some reason I decided to look up what the top times were for one of the more legendary climbs around Baltimore: Jerome Jay Drive. Here’s where the devil took over.

The theme of this year’s Festive 500 is “Ride to Redemption.” I haven’t really felt a terrible need to ride in order to redeem anything (or myself) so far; training has been going well and I don’t tend to overeat during the holidays, which are two things I wager a lot of people are looking for redemption from this time of year. Well, I wasn’t riding to redeem anything at least until I saw the Jerome Jay to Cleghorn course record. If you click on the link now, you see that I occupy the top step of the podium, but before the ride I didn’t (frankly, I didn’t even know people were keeping records on segments of local roads). And the dude who was first was the only dude who beat me at the MABRA Hill Climb Championship this year.

Like I said, I don’t usually care about these local road honor badges, but I thought I should probably ride to some sort of redemption during this Rapha Challenge and here was as good an opportunity as any. Plus, the devil on my shoulder started barking like my neighbor’s dog and I just wanted him to shut up so I did what he said. (N.B. I know devils can sometimes be female, but this particular one was definitely a masculine one. And, yes, some females can be masculine but . . . whatever.) The results are documented above to the chest-thumping lyrics of J Dilla. It seems like there’s a slightly longer version of the Jerome Jay climb that some people like to do that includes the short Ivy Hill section also. Well, that’s for another day. As for now, I guess I feel redeemed.

Just the facts:

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Some rides just seem completely effortless. On rides like these, your pedal stroke is so smooth and easy, your mind crystal clear and full of positive energy, that time goes by so quickly that you begin to wonder if you have actually been in the saddle for 4+ hours and not in some bizarre suspended dream state. And then there are the efforts that feel like a slog no matter what their duration—a single hour can sometimes feel like four. On today’s ride, Day Four of the Rapha Festive 500 Challenge, I found myself somewhere in between those two states; not quite as effervescent as on my previous three rides, but not nearly so down and out that I would just pack it in and head home. Sometimes, no matter how hard we search, poetry eludes us and a ride becomes just a another ride, getting on with the work. Maybe it was that I chose a route today that I’ve ridden more times than I can count. Or maybe is was that I wanted to get home for some holiday cheer with the family. (Mostly the latter.) Regardless, it was a beautiful day all around and with 405 km officially logged for the Challenge, I’m going to spend tomorrow sitting down (on the couch and then to an awesome dinner at our favorite restaurant) for a well-deserved rest day.

Just the facts:

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Distance: 107 km
Time: 3:58

Though today was Christmas Day, it felt a little bit more like Thanksgiving to me. That’s because as I set out this morning for Day Three of the Rapha Festive 500 Challenge, I promptly began compiling a mental list of things that I was thankful for. Most immediately, I was thankful for the tailwind which helped propel me north out of Baltimore City. Second, I was grateful for the incredible weather—crisp, but not too cold—that I’ve been able to enjoy for the past few days (and that is poised to continue for the next week). I was thankful for my coach, who in the past six years has guided me and taken my riding to a level I never thought possible. Thankful for my nutritionist, who keeps me optimally fueled and is a never-ending source of positive motivation. But most of all, I was thankful for my wife, who always is and always has been unbelievably understanding and supportive of my addiction to cycling, probably due in no small measure to the fact that she takes her own recreational activities so seriously. So now with three solid days under my belt for the Challenge, it’s time to take some time to relax and enjoy Christmastime with family. In the meantime, I’ll go ahead and wrap up today’s ride (and post) with some festive photos and delectable descents. Merry Christmas.

Just the facts:

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I am generally not a fan of surprises. I know my mother will be proud to see me write that I like to have things planned out, my life organized, so that I can accomplish everything I need to as efficiently as possible. An unplanned, freeform day is a rarity for me—save for family vacations, during which not having a plan is de rigueur—and whimsical is an adjective I don’t wager anybody would associate with my personality. That’s why it was probably fate that I decided to roll out this morning—Day Two of the Rapha Festive 500 Challenge—with only a vague sense of what I planned to accomplish, where I planned to ride, and was reminded that the unexpected can often have the effect of turning the ordinary into something magical.

Actually, I’d be lying if I maintained I had absolutely no form of a plan for today because there was one thing I did hope to accomplish, which was to gather some footage via a GoPro HD camera my friends at Twenty20 Cycling Company let me demo for the week. As I was filming one of my favorite descents heading north on Cuba Road, I heard what sounded like a horn call in the distance. I didn’t think much of it until, appearing before me and taking up the entire road were about 50 people mounted on horses, fully decked out, their leader loudly cracking a humongous whip on the road, engaged in a good old fashioned fox hunt.

I’ve seen paintings of these things, but here I was in the midst of one! Knowing the kind of reception I’m usually afforded by the motorists of Baltimore county, I wasn’t expecting to be greeted kindly at all—though if any one of them took a pot shot at my get up, I was ready to ask them to look at themselves and their friends and carefully consider if they really wanted to make fun of my outfit. But that didn’t happen. All of the fox hunters were extremely nice and generally excited to have a cyclist in their ranks. They all wanted to talk to me! One of them mentioned that cyclists follow fox hunts in England all the time. But the absolute best and most thrilling part was when they let me ride alongside them as they galloped down the road. It was just one part of an absolute picture perfect day and another solid ride.

Just the facts:

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Distance: 121 km
Time: 4:25

Motivation can appear in many forms. Some are motivated by fear—fear of failure, fear of not living up to expectations. Others derive their inspiration from anger, money, revenge, stature, winning. I know all of those people. Motivation in cycling can often be easy to come by—the next big race, setting a new power record, a category upgrade—but when it is scarce, it can lead a person to a dark place. And this time of year, especially, it’s easy to find it waning like the December sun at 4:30 p.m., disappearing faster than crisp tan lines now hidden under arm and leg warmers.

Problem was, I neglected to consider the mental toll both my preparation and performance had inflicted on me and I pleaded with my coach to get back to structured training after only a week of playing on the cross bike. Since I had once again set my sights on an early-season goal, he obliged and I hit the afterburners until Thanksgiving, when I fell apart mentally. For the next three weeks, motivation became as foreign to me as a Texas debutante ball, and though I continued to spend time on the bike, many rides ended early or even before they had begun.

Just the facts:

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