The reality of living the stress of selection, competition, preparation and all that striving for something so big entails is not simple.  It is never straight forward and never, at least for me, a matter of ticking the boxes as I rampage through goals and targets.

The whole idea of preparation always seems like it should be so simple.  When I look at what I want to do and how I am going to do it, it is simple.  Problem is with this is that it’s also competition.  And competition is full of competitors who show no mercy.  Including myself.  The battle is always to stay in line with those goals and targets and not get caught up in what other people are doing.  Not just other Canadian athletes, but athletes around the world.

The first time I tried to make an Olympics was way back in 1992.  It was for track cycling and the individual pursuit.  I made the podium at trials, finishing third.  But there was only one spot available.  And there were only three of us who qualified to try for that one spot.  Making the podium sounds better than last place, right?

What you read can be far from reality.  Words can be twisted and pictures can be painted that look so nice in print or video.  I found out very clearly that first try that no matter how good people thought I was, no matter what I had done in the past, no matter what was written about me or what I said I thought I could and would do: none of this would help me when I got to the starting line.  Never have I been so alone in my athletic life than in those moments of silence, waiting for the gun to go off.  It takes a tremendous amount of inner focus to be ready for this moment of truth; to face oneself and unleash all that has built inside for days, months, years….or even decades.

Which brings me to the point of this story.  Because, as mentioned, as I am an Olympic junkie, I’ve been reading about many athletes from all different sports.  I’ve read their past results and everything about them from what they eat for breakfast, what music they listen to, how many hours a day they sleep….what they dream of and how many tweets they make….you get the picture.  If you read enough you’d think ‘wow, that person can’t lose!’.   I’ve read of athletes sharing so much that I wonder….if you are sharing this much, spending this much time tweeting and doing press conferences and commercials, appearances etc., when do you train?  When do you rest your brain and work on the most important thing:  focus.  When?

I’ve been around athletes talking so much about Olympic plans, what they will do after their races, what’s in store next year, and so on and so forth, that I can’t help but wonder: where is the here and the now?  Talking about being in the Olympics is not going to get you there.  Any sort of commercial or media attention may earn you dollars but in the end, those dollars will not buy a spot on a team, and certainly not on any podium.

I’m not saying that I have it all right and have the Olympic preparation dialed in.  There are times this year, just like every other time I have gone through an Olympic year, when I have wanted to stop, when I have wondered why on earth I am doing this again to myself.  Wondered why I find this challenge of sport so undeniably intriguing that I decided to give myself to it this one more time just to see what I can eek out of my inner being and what discoveries I can make.

And then I wonder, as the Trials unfold in the different sports, not just in Canada but around the world, just how certain athletes I’ve read about will perform.  If I had a dollar for each athlete I’ve mentioned to my husband “I think they are doing too much media, somethings got to give….” and then, inevitably, they don’t make it and if they do, the best they had is left in some print ad or commercial on TV, not on the playing field at the Games…well if I had a dollar for each of these I would have a nice little coffee fund going.

I was lucky to learn this lesson early on.  Show, don’t tell, is the best way I know to quietly move forward and build my strength, both physically and emotionally, for when it matters to me.  I’m learning a lot by watching the actions of others.  As always, these lessons make me look at myself and my own approach.

It’s never perfect but what is.  As much as there is to learn from people’s mistakes in approach, there are beautiful lessons to learn as well.  All of this is a reminder that the most important thing is, as my good friend Simon Whitfield was just quoted as saying in an article, to know there was nothing more you could have done to be fully engaged and fully prepared to execute excellence.

Simon Whitfield:

“My goal is to get there, knowing I did everything I could, and to prepare wholly,”….. “To lie in bed the night before and to know I did everything I could and now I just to go out there and express all of that. That’s my goal, to lie there the night before and say there’s nothing more I could have done.”

Full article on Simon:
http://www.ctvolympics.ca/athletics/news/article/whitfield-relentless-pursuit-leads-london.html

It’s worth the small time it takes to make this delicate and most economical soup.  What you are left with is a delicious meal and 4 cuts of chicken ready to bake, BBQ or broil.

I buy a whole organic chicken from WholeFoods.  Bought a big one today and it was $13.00.  Sounds like a lot but when you consider the meal(s) you get out of this chicken, you will wonder why you ever bought the breasts, thighs or legs separate.

Organic chicken tastes better.  It has more flavor in the meat and in the broth.  It’s worth it.

Here is my version of ‘Caldo de Pollo’ or ‘Broth of Chicken’.  I made this for my friend Shannon last weekend when she came to visit our mountain home.

CALDO DE POLLO

-Cut off the breasts and legs from the whole chicken.  Remove the neck and whatever else is stuffed inside the bird.  I never know what to do with these things and they look kind of nasty, so I just throw them away.

-Take the remaining carcass of the chicken (it’s good if there are chunks of meat on it, this will be the meat for your soup!) and put in a large cooking pot.

-Fill with water just until the bird is covered.  Too much water gives a watered down broth.

-Add a few carrots, celery stalks, a bay leaf and an onion, peeled and quatered to the chicken and water.

-Bring to a boil.

-Reduce to a simmer and let cook for about 20 minutes.

-Take out carcass and pick off the chicken that is now cooked on the bones.  Discard any chicken skin.  You should have a small plate of pieces of chicken.  This will soon go in your soup.

-Remove carrots, celery, onion and bay leaf.  Strain the broth through a strainer so that it is nice and clear.

-Clean your big pot and then add clear broth.  Add chicken you harvested from the carcass.  Peel a few carrots, celery stalks, wash a leek (use only white and light green part of leek), wash a zucchini and get your mandolin slicer ready to go.

-Slice the leek, carrots, celery, zucchini and add to soup.  Bring all to a boil and add another bay leaf.  Add some sea salt.

The mandolin slicer

-Reduce, simmer for about 5 minutes, and your soup is good to go!  Taste and add more salt as you like.  Make sure you start small with the salt you can add but you cannot remove.

Buen provecho!

I made this just the other night.  I also made homemade roasted red pepper hummus with some veggies to dip in for Peter.

LEEK AND CAULIFLOWER SOUP

2 leeks

1TBSP butter

1 cauliflower

3 cups water

2 cubes organic vegetable boulion

fresh ground pepper

This soup is ridiculously easy…..

-wash and chop the leeks.

-melt butter in a large pan, add leeks.

-turn to low and cook gently until leeks are transparent (don’t burn the leeks they are fragile to high heat!)

-wash cauliflower and divide into flowerets

-add cauliflower, boulion cubes, water and bring to a boil

-reduce heat, cover, cook for about 5 mins…don’t overcook, just until cauliflower is al dente!

-remove from heat and either use submersion blender or put in blender.

-add fresh ground pepper.  If you like the flavor of mace seasoning, add 1/8 teaspoon (I don’t and it was delicious as is).

Such a nice soup….if you use organic vegetables there is a beautiful flavor that comes out from the leeks and the cauliflower.

Good news is, I’m back.  Not with another soup recipe from my book of soups, even better, with a guest entry from the one and only Connie Carpenter.  You may know her as the first ever women’s gold medalist in Olympic road cycling back in 1984.  That and many other wins makes Connie one of the best ever ladies to race a bike.  She’s also a former speed skater, a red-head, a Super-Mom (note: her kids are super athletes on the bike and on the cross country skies) and wife to another cycling Super Star, Davis Phinney.

Me, Connie and Kelsey (superstar cross country ski kid!) at Soldier Hollow in Utah earlier this winter

Need I say more.  Connie rocks.  She’s also a great cook.  I don’t know first hand, but suspect everything she does is top notch.

Here is her soup recipe, in Connie’s words.  I can’t wait to get home and make this one.

Asparagus Soup with Poached Eggs

I am not an expert at writing out recipes and I always take liberties with even the most exacting recipe which makes me a good chef but not a precise one.  And I do love to cook!  Hope you enjoy this recipe.

I found it in the Williams-Sonoma catalog (beautiful photos!) promoting their cooker/blender appliance which in itself seemed a bit excessive, but the soup was very basic and turned out very well (without the appliance).  It serves 2-4 depending on your hunger and whether it’s a main course or starter.  It is super simple and requires surprisingly very few ingredients.  Eggs and Asparagus make for a nice marriage of flavors as the Italians would say, and I think you will agree.

You will need, Asparagus, 1 large leek, Spinach, 1 onion, Eggs, Olive oil, salt. pepper. spices optional.  Original recipe called for garnishes like tarragon leaves, chives, and parsley (which I did not have but not only look good but would taste good too).

Wash a nice spring bundle of fresh Asparagus

Asparagus always break naturally toward the bottom of the stalk, put the lower bits into a small pot with maybe a carrot or onion – whatever is lying in the bottom of your frig – to make a broth.  Add some salt.  Maldon Salt is the best salt in the world.  You can find it at specialty stores.  It will change your life but I digress.  http://www.maldonsalt.co.uk/  Bring to boil, let simmer.  Dump the veggies into your compost, save the broth.  If you don’t do this step you can use a veggie broth or bouillon cube – or just water.

Slice the asparagus spears somewhat finely.

Saute onion and leek together in oil for ten mins, gently.   Leeks must always be carefully washed, and finely sliced.

Add the sliced asparagus, add 2-3 handfuls of cleaned spinach (as much as you want really) PLUS stock (3-4 cups) and simmer.  To add more flavor, consider a little red pepper (very little), paprika, or pepper.

Simmer for 15 mins.  Blend the soup (a hand held blender is best).

Poach one or two eggs per portion in water (poach lightly as they will continue to ‘cook’ in the soup or you can fry sunny side up).

Eat immediately

We had this with a nice side of flatbread and called it dinner

Thanks, Connie!

I still can’t believe Randy is gone.  I find it hard to face the reality of losing Randy so suddenly.  There are so many tributes to him that I would like people to read.  They make me cry and make me miss my friend so much.  I can’t believe I will go into his blog and it will not be updated again.  I cannot go to his column site I had bookmarked for years to find inspiration again.

Here are some beautiful tributes to my friend, Randy Starkman:

http://gpcnews.com/randy-starkman/

http://www.thestar.com/sports/article/1163680–kristina-groves-randy-starkman-s-big-heart-big-results

http://www.thestar.com/sports/article/1163453–sherraine-schalm-what-it-was-like-to-be-interviewed-by-randy-starkman

http://www.thestar.com/sports/olympics/article/1163117–kelly-randy-starkman-will-be-missed-on-road-to-olympics

http://www.thestar.com/sports/article/1163025–clara-hughes-my-best-friend-in-sport-randy-starkman

http://www.thestar.com/sports/olympics/article/1162859–remembering-randy-starkman-best-horse-in-our-barn

http://www.thestar.com/sports/olympics/article/1162599–remembering-randy-starkman-tributes-to-canada-s-premier-amateur-sports-journalist

http://www.thestar.com/sports/olympics/article/1162683–remembering-randy-starkman-olympian-adam-van-koeverden-s-heartfelt-thank-you

http://www.thestar.com/sports/olympics/article/1162610–smith-randy-starkman-always-had-his-house-in-order

http://www.thestar.com/sports/olympics/article/1162515–dimanno-remembering-randy-starkman-the-ultimate-pro-in-amateur-sports

http://torontosportsmedia.com/sports-and-toronto/lessons-to-learn-from-randy-starkman/13474

http://thestar.blogs.com/photoblog/2012/04/remembering-randy.html

Speed skating races can be grueling but pale in comparison to bike racing.  One is indoors and the other is out; one is a race against the clock and the other can be all out war with close to 200 other athletes.  Add to this the difference in distance: 5kms on ice and up to 140kms on the road.

Back to quitting.  Or wanting to quit.  Wanting to stop and get out of the cluster of insanity rolling through the flatlands of the Zeeland region/island of Holland last Saturday.  A handful of the racers had done a nighttime time trial in the pissing rain, wind and dark cold the night before, and there we were again facing the same elements en masse the next afternoon.

There was a glimmer of hope of the startline with the sun shining and the big start/finish bus blocking the wind.  Riders shed layers of clothing fooled by the respite from the horizontal rain, hail and gale-forced winds that swept the island all morning long.  I had goosebumps looking at the weather systems flying by from inside the breakfast room.

That and the fact that my roommate, teammate, friend and Goddess of the Spring Classic bike racing world Ina Yoko Teutenberg kept saying ‘we better line up early….this race is going to blow apart after 3km!’.  Ina went to the extent to ask our director, Ronny, to leave a little earlier just so we had enough time.

Yes, when someone like Ina wants to be at the front of almost 200 racers at the start, you know you’re in for a rumble.  Ina even warmed up for the race which made me, and I am sure each and every other racer, more nervous.

And so there we were, thirty minutes before the start, waiting on the front line to face the barrage of wind.   First objective was to get to the left hand, 180 degree turn followed by a sharp right-hander onto a bike path then onto a small road….you get the picture.  I took the advice from Chloe Hosking, my little sprinter-machine chicken-hawk of a teammate who said ‘just stay on the right….someone will crash in that turn and it will be one clister f**k, you can cruise around the mess if you are on the right…’.  This drama played out to such perfection that I began to think perhaps Chloe had some Spring Classic Goddess in the making at only 21 years old…but not before some drama on the start line.

Which brings me back to Ina and why she is so awesome.  There we were, lined up, feeling pretty good about our half hour spent on the front line when, just a few minutes before the start, two riders from a top-level team rode up, turned their bikes around, and parked in front of the 189 riders waiting to go.  Ina would have none of this.  She said what WE ALL THOUGHT: she told the two racers to get to the back.  That it was not fair to do what they did when all the girls had been waiting and took the time to line up early.  She forced the commissaires to do the right thing and send these athletes to the back of the bunch.

Like I said, Goddess.  There’s a reason Ina is boss of the peleton.  She is tough as nails but always fair.

And then the gun went off.  The race began.  The crash happened in the turn.  The echelon started and there were only about 25 riders in front.  And I was there!  All the suffering, uncertain, fear-filled kilometers of racing in Holland and Belgium this month led me to being able to hold my spot and remain in the front.

Ina and I let a little gap go for our teammate Ellen who won the epic TT the night before.   I watched Ina regulate who was allowed to go up the road until the perfect combination was formed.  I was there to witness and calm within the storm of the race.  I watched and I learned, my prime objectives this month.

From that point forward, crashes, turns, small roads, large, rain, cold cold rain, a drop in temperature and a chill to the bone evolved to near hypothermia.

Which brings me to the point of this story.  All the racing I did this month gave me the option of baling on a race somewhere along the way.  A girl can only take so much.  The racing schedule combined with being on the road for over month, exclusively in hotels or communal living, had me cracking at the core.  That and an epic Fleche Wallonne mid-week made the feeling that I was at my limit.  This became a reality with the effort and frigid cold that unfolded in the Omloop Van Borsele two days ago.

I knew I was to tired when I mistook Ina’s bike for Ellen’s that morning. I took one look at the bike and thought ‘if Ellen is riding the S4 wheels and not the usual S7′s (from Hed. wheels….the numbers indicating the depth of the carbon wheels….greater depth means more surface area which is a concern with high winds like in the Netherlands), I better reconsider the S6′s on my bike’….when I asked about this the girls looked at me and said ‘that’s Ina’s bike!  How could you mix Ina’s and Ellen’s bikes?’  Ina is about 5’4 inches tall and Ellen is at least six feet tall.  Yes, I was definitely tired.

And then the race began and I wanted to quit.  Less than fifty kilometers into the race I wanted to quit.  I could have quit and everyone would have understood.  The team was fine without me and the race situation we set was more than ideal.  I could pull out and stop the bone chilling rain from settling into my core and it would be okay.

But it would not be okay with me.  There’s something about quitting that just does not sit well.  I always think about what I would say to a kid at the finish area if they asked, ‘why did you stop?’.  There are no words to justify this other than broken bones or a catastrophic situation that has myriad forms in bike racing.  Cold rain does not qualify.  Fatigue does not qualify.

I counted down each and every kilometer until the finish but made myself continue.  I thought I was going to break my teeth and had no control over the force in which my jaw was clamped shut, convulsing with shivers.  I couldn’t use my brakes with hands that were blocks of ice.  I think most girls were experiencing the same as racer after racer made abrupt exits from the pavement to the surrounding fields for some unwatned cyclo-cross practice in the dirt.

I ate as much as I could just in case the break came back and a lead-out effort was necessary, hoping and praying to the racing gods that this one would stick and we could all roll in safely.

My teeth still hurt from the chattering but I finished that race.  Finished what I started and then took the decision not to start Sunday’s race in Belgium.  Didn’t start so there was no need to endure the cycle of wanting to stop but being unable to quit.

Sometimes, it’s as important to step back and assess the situation with intelligence and vision.  Always, it’s important to finish what you start.  Both make you stronger in the end.

The break stayed away, Ellen won the race and after a long time with the heat cranked high in the team vehicle, we finally stopped shivering.

This sport is epic, to say the least.  Character building to the highest degree.  Filled with tests of who you think you are and strive to be.  I love it and I hate it for all of the above.  I think my re-initiation is complete.  With one more stage race to go, I actually look forward to coming back in June for more action.

I’ll never be a bike racing Goddess like Ina, but I think I qualify as a legitimate bike racer now!

Which made me think long and hard Monday and Tuesday just what I was doing in Belgium.  The Fleche Wallonne was part of my month of immersion of bike racing in Europe.  A mid-week classic race, it’s known, for the uninitiated, as one of the monuments of the classic races in Europe.  The race is infamous for it’s relentless race course of climb after climb, and it’s crowning glory is the Mur de Huy.  Yes, that’s right, THE WALL OF HUY.  Wall, you say?  Isn’t a wall a vertical?  This is a wall-road.  It is the steepest thing on my cycling earth and literally gives a rider like me panic attacks.

Why so scared of the Mur?  It’s a stretch of vertical that exposes every single weakness I have as a bike racer.  If I was going up the thing alone I would still pedal in fear.  It’s steep and then gets steeper and steeper….and steeper still.  I can’t begin to adaquately explain the severity of the climb.  The first and only other time I did Fleche, back in 1998 I think, teammate Sue Palmer explained it to me and I remember thinking ‘it can’t be that bad…’  Not only could it not be ‘that bad’, my wildest imagination could not create the reality of this climb.

Ouch.

It hurts.

And then in opens a wound in the deepest, darkest place in your soul and pours salt in that wound.

Then it rubs the salt in the open wound and laughs in your face as you burn with pain.

That’s the Mur for me and that’s why I was:

(a) sad that we go up it twice instead of once when I raced it before

(b) seriously questioning my ability and reasoning for being a racing cyclist this past week…yes, there were many moments of ‘skating is soooooo much easier than this’ that passed through my brain.

and

(c) worried that I would not even make it to the Mur de Huy with all the climbs beforehand….worried I would have nothing to contribute to my teammates to try to win this race!

Which leads me to our team meeting and the task(s) I was given.  It seemed that the team (staff, teammates, everyone but me) believed I could get over the damn Mur if not with the front group, at worst, just behind.

Task #1 was to do just this.  Task #2 was to get back with the leaders wasting not an ounce of energy because that was when my real work was to start.

Which leads me to Task #3:  ATTACK!!!!

Okay, attack.  Attack?  Attack when not a cell in my body believed it possible I could make it up the Mur with anyone in sight but the stragglers minutes behind?  Just how was I going to do this?  I had to do it because I am on the best team in the world.

The belief from everyone around me made me think long and hard as to what I had to do and how I had to do it.  Our little team captain, Trixi Worrack, put the icing of hope on my cake of disbelief.  She said ‘Clara, no matter what, you just sit up and over the Huy.  You sit and let people bring you back.  You do this and then you ATTACK.  You have to save your energy to attack.’

And then team director, Ronny, said ‘Clara, you have the instinct as to when to attack.  Use this.  You have the experience to know and the strength to go.  And, you have the experience to use you energy wisely in the breakaway.  You can do this.’

Which was sprinkled with a dusting of magic when team owner Kristy Scrymgeour, just before the start, said to me ‘Clara you are riding awesome.  You are so strong and climbing so well.  You need to know you can do this today.  Believe.’  Or something along those lines.

With these tasks I went to the start and commenced the 15th Fleche Wallonne Feminin with over 150 other racers.  Massive winds, bouts of rain, crashes by racers, a wipe out  by a motorcyclist right in the peleton, twists, turns, hills, towns, forests…..big roads and small….bumps, gravel and screaming mad female cyclists…..this storming chaos made it’s way through the Belgian countryside.  And the race made its way to the Mur.

At this point you’re probably thinking my team wanted me to win the race.  Oh, no.  It’s better than that.  Much better than the simple plan of attack, breakaway, win.  No, no, no.  It’s far more exciting that that.  When you are up against a prolific and versatile champion like Dutch superstar Marianne Vos, it has to be far more than this simple plan.   And, like I said, encouragement aside, with the ride of my life I’m not going to win up the Mur de Huy.  But I could certainly survive without the gaping salt filled wound I described earlier.

And survive I did, to do my job.  Starting the Mur at the front helped.  I let people pass me.  Instead of picking my way past people or getting caught behind instant implosions, I wove back into the group of girls accelerating, blowing up, passing and re-passing.  It was like being in a video game and I was in full control of where I was and the manouvering I did.  I made it up the Mur, like Trixi said, as strong as possible and ready to attack.

I sat in the group about twenty seconds behind the leaders.  About 25 of them.  I sat and let others chase because I had three teammates ahead in that group of 25.  Three teammates who were waiting for me to make the move that would start our race.  My other two teammates, Ally and Emilia, had already done a superb job of woman-ning the front of the peleton, bringing us safely and positioned to the foot of the Mur.  Their job was done and now it was my turn.  Yikes.

We got back on and the Greenedge Team started the fireworks.  I knew there were a slew of girls waiting for me to attack so I had to wait.  Sit and wait and float and feel the moment to move.  Feel it and not think it.  Feel it and GO.  And then, it was there, and I was gone.  Gone!  I attacked and got the gap.  Bridged up to an AA Drink rider and, though she was weaker, I knew we would need her to stay away.  I just hoped she would work.  Ahead was a GreenEdge racer who is a podium fixture in the time trial the last number of years at the world championships.  In other words, super strong and the perfect breakaway companion.  She time trialed ahead and I time trialed behind to catch her.  All the while, we distanced ourselves from what was left of the pack.

All the while, the team of Marianne Vos had to chase.  Which was why I attacked.  They chased and burned the matches they had until the pack was almost empty.  My three little climbing machine teammates sat and spun their legs behind.  Trixi, Evie and Amber sat and waited while we hammered away ahead.

The last 30kms will be forever etched in my memory bank of bike racing.  The move, it worked!!   The breakaway, the perfect combination, it worked!  Then, that moment with approximately 6 kms to go when I turned around and saw Vos about 50 feet behind.  Parked right on her wheel I saw the instantly recognizable form and style of Evie.  She rides like she’s listening to her i-pod and bopping to a hit tune.  I saw Evie and thought ‘Oh man now we go!!!…now the race begins!!’.

Yes, I was tired, yes, there were big winds blowing from all around.  It was a moment where I pounded two Gu gels from my pocket, took a swig of coke I grabbed in the feed above the Mur, and said to myself ‘LET’S GO!!’  I didn’t even talk to Evie.  No words were necessary.

I rode AS HARD as I could for the next 5.4 kilometers or so, with the four other girls sitting behind.  I don’t want to know the sounds of suffering that came out of me.  All I could think of was ‘I have to bring Evie to the Mur so she; we; can win Fleche!!’  I knew if I brought her there we would win.  I knew if I did the work she would know that there was no way she could lose.  The energy I gave would make her even more motivated to finish it off for not just herself, but for us, for our team.

And then, halfway up the Mur, when they passed me, Evie looked back into my eyes and I yelled at her ‘BE SMART!!’.  She smiled, nodded, and they rode away.  And the rest is history.

And, you know what, I didn’t fall off my bike.  I grunted and used every muscle fiber in my body to keep the pedals turning and get up that climb…..

Evie won in spectacular fashion.  I held on for 8th place.  We won as a team.  We screamed and cheered like goofy kids after the finish.  We won because we had a plan that used our strength as a unit.  Not as individuals.  But as a team.

And finally, I think I can climb these damn walls a little better than I thought.  I guess my team was right.  In having a task to do and the team’s belief, I found something inside myself I did not know was there.

What a beautiful day.  A day I am so glad is done!

With Randy and Beckie Scott at the 2008 Olympics….

I’m in Belgium in the hotel breakfast room and can’t stop crying.  An email shared the shocking news of Randy Stakman’s passing late last night.  I felt sick going to sleep.  The reality of losing Randy only became real this morning when I opened my computer.  The tears began to flow and haven’t stopped.

Like so many athletes have shared, our tears flow for the loss of the biggest heart we came to know and love in the world of amateur sport.  The heart of gold that was my dear friend, Randy Starkman.

You see, Randy was more than a reporter.  To me and so many others, he was a friend.  A person who truly cared for us, for sport, for right and for wrong.  More than anything, Randy cared about sharing.  Sharing the stories and the insights into the often ignored sporting fields we practiced and played in.

Randy was an artist.  He was a humorist.  A humanist.  He was my friend who brought me gifts.  Things like colored wax to create with.  I remember him coming to Calgary to do an interview with the speed skaters.  We had a sushi date and he brought this package of colored wax you could mould with the warmth of your hands.  We sat and ate our sushi, made a bunch of sushi from the wax and he interviewed me along the way.

A few summers ago, while doing more interviews from a book we were going to write together, he brought more wax.  I made some tulips to give to a friend of Randy’s wife, Mary, at the CBC.  I left the little tulips in the car and they melted flat from the heat of the sun.  Randy laughed and said ‘you know, she’ll like these more than the original ones!’.  Randy always had a way to laugh at things.

Back in Vancouver in 2010, days before the opening ceremony, Randy popped by to visit my husband Peter and I at the apartment I had in Richmond for the Games.  Always respecting the line he tread as journalist and friend, he said ‘why don’t you just send Peter down to the entrance and I can give him something I made for you’.  He didn’t want to disturb my focus.  I went down with Peter to say hi.  Randy had this shoe box.  He wouldn’t let me open it with him present.  Too embarrassed, he said.

I remember getting a big hug from Starkman and he said to me ‘you’re gonna do something special here, Hughes, I just know it’.  He shuffled away along the sidewalk and I immediately opened the box.  It was a paper mache speed skate.  It was beautiful.  It’s still my most prized souvenier from the Games.

That’s how Randy was.  That’s how I will remember him.  He sought out that something special in athletes.  Not only did he have the ability to articulate the insights, he often made us realize who we were by his perspectives.  He would send me transcripts from interviews he felt offered more than the final edited cuts allowed in the Star because he thought I would find inspiration in a certain athlete.

He’d be so excited to share and athlete he considered ‘the real thing’.

He made us understand we were more than our success.  That we should strive for more than just being good at what we do.  He celebrated the victories and supported through the rough patches.

In the 2009 World Championships, after skating a terrible 3000m race where I was disqualified twice and at a loss to understand just how I could skate so slow, so bad, I remember going to the mixed zone and facing the scrum.  I remember Randy in the middle of all the faces.  Asking what went wrong and what was up.  I just remember saying I sucked and didn’t know why.  What followed was typical Starkman.  Instead of grilling me more, he turned the moment into a pep talk.  ‘Hughes, if anyone can turn this around, it’s you’.  Next thing I knew, he had all the Canadian reporters following along and giving me the best motivational scrum ever.  I walked away in a bit of a shock thinking ‘well, if these guys think I can do this, maybe I can?’

Two days later I won a silver medal in the 5000m.  I went back to the mixed zone to a big smile and hug.  There was Randy saying ‘See, I told ya so!’.

The Olympics I’ve watched from afar I’ve followed via Randy’s stories.  He connected athletes he thought could learn and grow from each other.  I still can’t wait to meet Mary Spencer because Randy told me she’s cool; because of the pieces he’s written on her I find so damn inspiring.  I don’t know her but feel I do because of his writing.

I can hear Randy’s rough voice over the phone, ‘Hey Hughes, how’s my man crush Peter doing?’.  He’s one of the few people my husband Peter cared to be around in the world of sport.  This morning when I spoke to Peter, eight time zones behind, he said to me ‘I just did that yoga CD that Randy gave me in 2010’.  Randy had two man-crushes: my husband Peter and Jenn Heil’s partner, Dom Gauthier.  And I know both guys loved him back.

Randy had the heart of gold but he had the edge, too.  He was everything to us and I just cannot believe he’s gone.  I can’t imagine what Mary and Ella are going though.  The sadness I feel is but an ounce of what they are living.  I have so many emails and photos Randy sent to me, proudly showing off his ‘girls’.  He was so proud of Ella and so inspired by Mary.  The love he had for his two girls was strong and it was beautiful.

I can only say that whatever I do, in sport, in life, in this world as I know it and as it unfolds to me, I have been inspired by my dear friend Randy.  That I am preparing for another Olympics without him seems incomplete.  Randy always said to me ‘Hughes, what am I going to do when you quit?’.   He knew months before I came back to bike racing what my intentions were and I trusted him to keep it a secret until the time was right.  I trusted Randy with my life.  With this loss all I can think of doing is to live these beautiful moments with a glimmer of his golden heart in mine.

I only wonder, who is going to tell the stories now that Randy is gone.  Yes, indeed, they will be told, but they will never be the same.  We’ve lost our voice of reason and our voice of joy.  We’ve lost our dear friend and colleague, Randy Starkman.

Anyway, you get the picture.  This is a true cycling family.  I had the chance this week to spend a few days in Ina’s hood.  In order to break up the month of racing with the Specialized-lululemon Team in Europe, I decided to make the trip to Mettmann where Ina grew up and check out her neck of Germany.

I’ve not been disappointed.  Ina has been a friend for years.  Her passion for racing and riding has always inspired me.  Now that she’s my teammate, her incredible skill and drive on the bike in the gnarliest of races in Holland and Belgium leave us all in awe.

Yesterday was the first ride I did in her area.  We had company for the trip into Dusseldorf and back.  Ina’s niece and nephew joined us.  She gave them the choice of a loop around Mettmann or the ride into the city.  I don’t know if they knew just how long the ride was but they emphatically said in unison, ‘LaBici’ !!   LaBici is Sven and Suzan’s shop in Dusseldorf, at least 30 kilometers away.  LaBici meant a visit and some good baked goodies from the bakery near by.  Not sure if they quite realized that how far you ride out is how far you ride home.  They were game so off we went.

Our riding companions are the son and daughter of Lars Teutenberg.  Lars is the equipment guru for teams like the defunct HTC, and now GreenEdge and Scott bikes.  He is a magician when it comes to speed and the sport has evolved in the aerodynamic sense largely in part to Lars’ input.  His kids, needless to say, were pretty kitted out.  It was the funniest thing to see these two skinny kids in all the HTC gear.  Some of it Ina’s old stuff with ‘Teutenberg’ on the back and German Champion stripes of the sleeves; some ordered small enough for the kinders.  Or maybe it was left-over gear from the smallest climbers on the team.  Either way, I had to chuckle each time I saw the kids.  It was really cool to see them and witness the skill of a 9 year old boy and a 12 year old girl.

It’s not like these kids are pushed into riding the bikes.  They ride if they want to and run or play soccer, or whatever they want to, if they want to do that.  Yesterday, they wanted to ride, and thus or group ride that turned heads all the way to and then back from Dusseldorf.

I remember Ina saying ‘don’t worry about them they are both good wheel suckers’.  I swear these kids had better skills than most of the female peleton.  After doing two days of team time trial training in Holland, I suspect little Timmy would have output less power in the double echelon practice than some of my team, including me.  Hopping curbs?  No problem.  Riding cobbles?  Not a concern.  Single file, two-by-two, dirt paths, construction…city riding and country roads, nothing phased the kinders on the ride.  And they didn’t have to be told what to do; they knew what to do.

When we started the ride, I have to admit I thought it would be a pretty slow one.  I thought we’d be waiting for them on each hill and wondered if they’d end up getting a ride back to Mettmann after more than 30kms into Dusseldorf.  Instead, Ina just started riding at a normal endurance pace.  Up and down through the city streets and then out onto the bike paths and fields.  Through the airport and into the city, the kids just sat behind and rode their bikes.

Each time I turned back to see if they were okay, they just smiled at me.  They were pumped to be riding with their Auntie Ina.  I could see Timmy doing all the things pro riders do.  Uphill?  Time to unzip the jersey a little bit.  Need some gloves?  He effortlessly took them from Ina while going down a hill, put them on while riding with the ease of a Tour de France rider over the summit of a climb.

And finally we made it to the shop, stuffed our faces with goodies, and then set out to ride back to Mettmann.  Which was the point when the kinders finally acted their ages.
‘How long until home?’  But still, they rode.  We stopped to look at a castle from 700AD and passed by the area where the Teutenberg’s lived until Ina was 4 years old.  The orphanage Ina’s dad worked was another point of interest.  A massive building that I found hard to imagine filled with kids.

Our kinder companions lost focus here and there, but we made it home.  The long way.  And the last part was uphill.  Ina stayed with Lin and gave Tim the instruction ‘stick to Clara’s wheel!’.  So, I rode with Tim behind.  Had to say it was a little annoying to hear him free-wheeling at times, uphill!  At one point, I signaled for a few cars behind it was safe to pass us on the single lane road going up, and Tim took it as a signal to ‘pull through’.  He pulled through and got out of the saddle, never slowing the pace.

I remembered earlier in the ride when Ina said ‘let’s sprint!!’.  The two of them took off ahead, Tim more aero than Ina sprinting away.  I’m sure he heard from Lars how low a rider like Mark Cavendish is in the sprints and was undoubtably emulating the fastest racer in the world head to head with Ina, the fastest woman in the world.  Too funny.

Then the final drag up to town.  I thought beforehand that maybe I’d need to give him a little push up the hill but quickly realized not only was this not necessary, but would also be an insult.

At almost 70 kilometers they both had enough.  Ina gave Tim a big pat on the back for the longest ride he’d ever done.  Lin rode beside me through town smiling away like she’d not just ridden the remarkable distance for a twelve year old.

I tried to tell them both how impressed I was back at Ina’s flat.  Not sure if they got it but I was and am blown away by the way these kids ride the bike.  It’s no big deal to them because it’s just what they know.  They’ve watched the best racers their whole lives and simply do what they see.

I now understand why Ina is so damn good on the bike.  She simply did as she saw.  She chased her brothers around and improved by experience and osmosis.  And it was no big deal to her just like it’s no big deal to these kids.

What’s funny is this racing season, all I do is follow Ina around and try to do what she does.  I also get the chance to learn from the best.  Learn from her skill and her heart for the sport.

I can’t wait to see the next generation of Teutenberg’s in cycling in the years to come.  One day I can say ‘I rode with that kid when he was only 9; she was only 12…’

Speed skating in Holland in the cold, wet and grey shades of winter made soup of any kind a welcome start to every meal.  We often stayed at a ven Der Valk hotel in Wolvega in the north of the Netherlands and they made awesome soups.  I would not only have seconds but often thirds as well.

One of my favorites is Dutch Mustard Soup.  It sounds strange to the north american palate but trust me, this soup is something else.  To my dismay, after googling  a recipe for Soup Wednesday, it has some nasty ingredients.  Bacon, flour, cream….things I try not to eat now that gravity plays a cruel role in sport for yours truly.  A little more searching and I found a vegan alternative that looks pretty good.  Will have to try this when I get home.

Since I’m in Holland a lot this month, I wanted to put the soup popular in the north in the Gronigen region where speed skating is king.  So here you go:

Dutch Mustard Soup

Mustard soup has a long tradition in Holland. This is a vegan version of the famous soup. I cooked a similar soup recently during a cooking workshop on a company trip. It’s very nice, especially since it is creamy without using cream and not even soy cream.

Serving Size: 4
Ingredients:
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 bottle white wine
1 & 1/4 liters vegetable bullion
2 carrots
1 onion
1-2 leek
1/2 small celery root
2 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons Zaansemosterd (Coarse ground mustard, Dutch Style)
handful fresh thyme
2 tsp. fennel seeds
handful fresh rosemary
salt & pepper

Directions:
Bring a pot with 1 & 1/4 liters of water and 2 vegetable bouillon cubes to a boil.
In the meantime wash, peel and cut the vegetables into small pieces.
Heat the oil in a 2nd large pot.
Put the vegetables in the pot and saute until soft, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking and allowing to cook evenly.
Add the flour and mix well and then add the wine and stir it for a few minutes.
Add the vegetable bouillon and bring to a soft boil.
Add the thyme, rosemary and fennel seeds.
Once boiling, reduce the heat to simmer.
Cook for about 30 minutes.
Add the mustards.
Cook for another 15-20 minutes.
When the vegetables are soft, puree with an immersion pureer.
Push the purred soup through a fine sieve to create a very smooth soup.
Bring the soup back to warmth.
Serve hot with a nice crusty bread.
Notes:
You can add soy cream if you wish to make it creamier, and you can use any nice grainy mustard as the replacement for the Zaanse mustard.