I love this part of my day. Our team clips in and rolls out, turning left onto the one road that passes by the old convent where we are staying for our preseason camp. Within a few turns of the pedal, we fall into formation—an easy line of pairs—relaxed, talking happily in the sunshine. The road winds over small green hills checkered with olive trees, and twists through curves made just for a bike. In two lines, close and easy, we flow through each curve. By now we know the buche (potholes), and flow easily around them.

Already I’m too warm. Sitting up, I’ve only half unzipped my wind vest before the team car appears at my side, ready to take my vest and gloves. I hand them off and settle back on the handlebars, without having broken cadence or formation. The casual flow and chatter in our group veils our precision of movement; a small gesture from the front of the group sends a smooth wave of lateral movement through our lines, as we swing wide to avoid a branch, then back again.

At the designated right turn, we hear a honk from the team car, and without words, one line drops back as the other moves forward, in doppia fila (paceline). The easy talk goes quiet, as now we move past one another too quickly for conversation, but still a few joking shouts can be heard over the wind. We ease the pace at a roundabout, our long line briefly swelling wide as we wait for a car to pass, then snapping instantly back in tight formation as we exit the roundabout. Our precise organization and instinct form the angle of our doppia fila: as good an indicator of wind direction as a flag in the air. Our support crew follows closely behind, and the whole day and many kilometers of road lie ahead. Our work is now underway.

Team Diadora’s 2012 preseason camp has been underway for over a week now. We’re based in a beautiful old convent overlooking state forest and the Mediterranean Sea. It’s isolated here, quiet and beautiful, like the roads. But this has been no holiday; my very sore, very tired body can attest to that. Not even the Tuscan landscape can make your pedalstroke look pretty after a session of hill repeats and sprints, done proper hard.

Preseason kilometers are the ugliest and most beautiful of the year.

The preseason is when training can and should be ugly, as you build a fatigue load so massive that it’s all you can do to pedal back home after a session of sweaty hill repeats. It’s when you really, really, really don’t want to go out in the rain, but end up with several hours in the legs and even more layers of wet and grime on your face (and teeth), anyway. It’s pure training, full of exhaustion and gladness.

And as was the case in January and early February when I trained in Perth, it’s also when the lines among teams dissolve, and we are just cyclists sharing the anticipation of the season and playfulness of being on our bikes. Our competitors become co-conspirators in training efforts, and there’s no need to look good: just get the work done.

In Perth, I took advantage of the summer weather by stacking volume with double sessions, and paid dearly in smashed legs and general zombie-like fatigue. Off the bike, I was useless. I could hardly stay awake, let alone keep up with normal life responsibilities. It was all I could do to get myself fed before I fell into a coma on the couch after my rides. And I would do it all over again the next day: up at 4am, sweating it out in the first training session before sunrise (it was that hot). But my misery had good company.

A handful of professional women were in Perth for training at the same time. You could pick us out of the group in an instant. The tanned, perma-fit group-ride warriors sported pristine, coordinated kit, clean handlebar tape and sharp legs. Then there were us gals: wearing a pre-team-camp combination of old kit, white socks grayed from racing in rain and being washed in the team truck for a whole season, and a chamois thinned to uselessness (ironically by overuse) in bibs that may or may not have had a transparent panel or two. Our training bikes sported scars from cobbled Dutch roads and unpaved sections of Italian climbs, the tires already worn from kilometers November and December kilometers. And we were tired.

We would start an afternoon group ride having already hammered out three hours of intervals, and fight doggedly for wheels, pedaling squares on our last ounce of energy. We often looked bad: tongues dragging on the pavement, heads and shoulders ticked to one side with the depth of effort, throwing the bike all over to close gaps; but rest assured, that scraping-the-bottom-of-the-energy-barrel kind of tired is just precisely what we are after, even if it is downright ugly.

At camp, we are refreshed with new clothes and equipment, but our mentality doesn’t change. The preseason goal remains: smash the legs and keep smashing them. We have to push ourselves into those foggy depths of fatigue before we rest, fine-tune and sharpen up for the first races.

On the second day of team camp here in Italy, we got caught in a rainstorm during a brutal interval session. As we battled a cross-headwind, spraying rooster tails of red mud from our wheels, our legs and kit became heavy with wet and cold. Still, we pushed on through the blur of splattered glasses and cold spray, fighting the sour ache of loaded legs over rough road, chasing each other through mud, effort after effort. Boy it was ugly! And by the final set of efforts my legs felt even uglier. After, we filed into the entryway, dripping with grime, quiet and empty, gratefully accepting the hot tea prepared by our souigneur.

It ain’t pretty, but it is. This is the time when an exhausted, ugly pedal stroke isn’t just ugly: it’s perfect. It’s when success means failing over and over again, because pushing to failure is the whole point.

And that is why these are also the most beautiful kilometers of the year.

Thanks for reading,

Amber

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos: Amber Pierce

David and I fled south for a few weeks of training in Tuscany, and on the first day, we took our bikes exploring into the mountains. The weather here is a good 10-15 C warmer than Graz, but after a scenic sunny climb, we froze descending through a deep, shaded valley, gingerly making our way down icy hairpin turns, frost crackling under our skinny tires. We had to stop twice to swing our arms around to force blood back into our burning cold fingers. Physically, those forty minutes of coasting were miserable. As David put it, “I never thought I could dislike descending so much.”

It’s a funny thing with cycling, though:  how quickly physical suffering takes a back seat to beauty. What I remember from that ride isn’t the awful pain of cold in my face, but that despite our discomfort, we pointed to the beautiful things – the old brick arches and belfries tucked against the slopes, mossy tile roofs with their chimneys like small campaniles and the astonishing aquamarine color of the stream flowing beside us. Around every corner we called out to each other, “Wow did you see that?”

Blue sky in Tuscany.

Once home, we tucked in to a hot meal, and that familiar uncomfortable thawing of the toes and deep fatigue and hunger -- it all eased into a good, satisfying feeling.

That is why, in winter, I like to prepare a big batch of hearty soup on my rest days, so I can quickly heat up leftovers after cold rides to bring me back to life. Soup also happens to be an easy way to get tons of good, nutrient-rich veggies into your diet without feeling like a ruminant, and offers the chance to liven up boring veggies like spinach and broccoli with more appealing flavors.

Below you’ll find a recipe for one of my favorite winter soups. What I like most about this recipe is how forgiving it is. The chopping doesn’t have to be pretty; it’s all going to be blended anyway. Likewise, if you leave the soup simmering on the stove while distracted by The Internet, overcooked veggies are no problem. (It’s also gluten-free, dairy-free and can be made vegan.)

I hope this post will inspire you to prepare some tasty, healthful recovery meals this winter. The holidays can be a tough time to maintain good nutrition, but remember, the holidays are also meant to be enjoyed. Sometimes the stress from trying to avoid certain foods (sweets, carbs, whatever) can be worse for you than eating the actual foods themselves. (I just baked a holiday cake and have been nibbling on my stash of dark chocolate between rides; I like to think of it as good fuel and antioxidants!)

A good rule of thumb: it’s not what you eat between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, but what you eat between New Year’s Eve and Christmas that matters most for your health. Strive to eat healthfully most of the time, and allow yourself to truly enjoy occasional indulgences.

Life is short; value your health, and allow yourself to enjoy it!

Green Soup
Makes 10-12 servings.

Step 1.
Combine in a large stock pot:

• 1 ½ liters vegetable stock,
• ¼ whole celery root, coarsely chopped or grated,
• 3-4 big carrots, coarsely chopped or grated,
• 4 medium yellow onions, coarsely chopped, and
• 6-8 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped.

Bring everything to a rolling boil; then reduce heat and simmer for about 10 minutes.

Step 2.
Add:

• ½  liter water,
• 1 bunch Italian parsley, de-stemmed and coarsely chopped,
• 600g frozen creamed spinach (or a huge bag of fresh baby spinach, or both), and
• 2 big leaves of kale, de-veined and torn into small pieces.

Let parsley, spinach and kale cook long enough to wilt; then cook another 5-10 minutes.

Step 3.
Add:

• 300 g raw pine nuts,
• 150 g raw walnuts,
• 1 whole head of broccoli florets, coarsely chopped, and
• Water (enough to be sure the florets are mostly, but not completely, submerged).

Cook until broccoli is mushy. (I know, but trust me on this...)

Step 4.
Add:

• 2 tsp sea salt, and
• 12 – 15 drops liquid smoke.

Stir to incorporate the flavors. Remove from heat, and using a handheld immersion blender, blend everything until you get a smooth, creamy consistency. Taste, and add salt if needed. (If you don't have liquid smoke, you can add a handful of smoked, cubed pancetta at Step 5.) Remove blender and return the pot of green goop to medium heat.

Step 5.
Add:

• 500 g turkey breast, cubed.

Simmer over medium-low heat until turkey is cooked. Do a final taste test, and add salt if needed. Store for future post-ride meals. Enjoy!

Hearty green soup.

Thank you for all of your support and thoughtful comments throughout the year.

Wishing you all a good slide into 2012!
Ich wünsche euch allen einen guten Rutsch ins neue Jahr!
A tutti voi, felice nuovo anno!

Thank you for reading,
Amber

Do you have a favorite post-ride meal? Please share your thoughts and recipes in the comments section below!

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos: Amber Pierce

As do many professional riders, I face some frigid training conditions during the winter in Europe. As much as I would like you to believe that I'm a machine programmed to crush outdoor training sessions regardless of weather conditions, the fact is, I am a human being, one who has whined plenty and publicly about the challenges of winter training. However, even worse than training with an ice cream headache in freezing fog, is sweating indoors on a stationary trainer.

Like (probably) many of you, I hate the trainer. I really do. I will ride in ridiculous sub-freezing temperatures just to avoid indoor workouts. When I must use the trainer, I have to trick myself into staying motivated. I play music, which limits visual stimuli to the wall or my powermeter (one of which I’m convinced holds the key to slowing the expansion of the universe). I’ve also tried watching movies, which help pass the time, but the plots don't usually motivate good leg-crushing intervals.

Last week I received Hell Hath No Fury from The Sufferfest and was asked to review it. [Full disclosure: I got a free copy for the purpose of writing a review, but am not being paid to endorse it.] I had never tried a Sufferfest workout and had no idea what to expect. Seventy-five minutes later, stunned, spent and staring at a pool of my own sweat, I realized I’d just had fun on the trainer.

What?!

I would not have believed it if I did not experience it myself; let me explain.

Composed of well-curated race footage from the women’s 2011 World Cup races, Hell Hath No Fury guides — no — relentlessly pushes the poor soul on the trainer athlete through a tough-as-nails workout. The video has it all: engaging visuals (bike racing!), killer adrenaline-pumping music for focused efforts, and a story line (peppered with liberal doses of heckling) that motivates from start to finish. In all, a brilliant approach to the evil necessity of trainer workouts.

The video begins by setting up the workout: 2 x 20 minute efforts plus a 3:30 minute effort (with built-in recovery intervals), structured as a stage race to keep you focused and motivated. After a brief warm-up, the race kicks off at full gas. Women’s World Cup footage plays out on the screen with text commanding you to attack, cover moves, surge over hills or sprint for the finish. When you find yourself head-down and cross-eyed in pain, don’t think you can escape those directives just because you can’t see straight: audible cues let you know when to attack again (not unlike the voice of a DS shouting through a radio earpiece during the real thing).

Throughout the workout, the video displays the prescribed level of intensity and counts down the time for each effort (with intermediate instructions to attack and surge - frequently), so you can keep your eyes on the screen, without diverting attention to your bike computer every twenty seconds to see if you’re done yet. Not only does the screen keep you on your toes, following wheels of the world’s greatest women cyclists, but the display also taunts you into digging deeper with most excellent heckling. I admit the thought has crossed my mind that personal hecklers could be the solution to more effective trainer workouts. Herein lies the genius of The Sufferfest – they get in the mind of a cyclist and know what a cyclist needs – a smart, structured workout; good music; attacks to follow; gaps to close; hills to climb and heckling to spur them on to new depths of suffering.

Personally, I love that this video features the women’s peloton. Having done these races myself, reliving the terrain, efforts and speeds got my adrenaline going big time. (And yeah, it was really cool to see my own bike in there and many teammates and friends). Prior to this video’s release, I read a Twitter comment from The Sufferfest about having to edit out attacks, as the women were attacking so often. Let me tell you, women’s racing is fierce. Doubt it? You won’t after Hell Hath No Fury. Totally worth the $11.99 price tag.

Check out the preview:

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos: Amber Pierce

For this column, I'm flashing back to my pre-cycling graduate school days, or Amber's Life, B.B. (Before Bike). I hope you enjoy the tangent!

I had finished preparing the surgery station, so I settled into a seat on the upper deck of our 92-foot fishing vessel and took in the view: a yawning afternoon sky over the Pacific ocean. I relaxed and savored the sunshine, knowing this afternoon calm would be cut short at any second by the call: Boil at the stern! Start a chum line!

We had been at sea for nearly four days of a three week voyage. Our research team, comprised of two professors and a handful of grad students, had joined with a crew of seasoned fishermen for a pelagic tagging mission. We had departed San Diego heading south to open ocean off the coast of the Baja Peninsula, in search of bluefin and albacore tuna, which we would catch, tag (via surgical implantation), and release (alive and healthy!) back to the ocean to collect all kinds of neat data for our conservation study. I was one of two women on board, the other woman being my professor and the lead Principle Investigator (PI) on the project.

Sunset in seafood country; open water aquaculture nets visible on the left side of the photo.

As you can imagine, a situation like this presents not only logistical and physical challenges, but also social ones; for example, tension often (not always) arises between researchers (usually conservationists) and fishermen (not usually conservationists). Regardless, the dynamic of two very separate social groups in close quarters requires both scientists and crew to overcome mutual skepticism to effectively work together at sea. Being a woman presented an extra hurdle, but after demonstrating a decent ability to land fish and no qualms in using live bait, cleaning catches, eating raw sashimi (another story altogether) or returning the friendly fire of sarcastic insults, I earned a place of respect among the crew. By day four, we had all settled into a good rhythm of working together.

By good rhythm I mean the coordination of our efforts within the chaos of tag and release fishing. When the fish finder indicated a big school of tuna, all hell would break loose. The announcement Boil at the stern! would sound over the speakers, and all hands would scramble to deck regardless of time of day or night. Crew members would toss bait in the water while others grabbed their lines and prepared to cast. I would prep the surgery station for the tagging process: a quick surgical implant that had to be completed (i.e. from incision to stitches) within minutes of bringing a fish on board. As you might imagine, when the catch was good, we could have ten or more fish going through surgery and release in less than thirty minutes. It was intense and exhilarating, but between the frenzies of fishing and tagging, idle hours could languish interminably.

We used our down time to compile data, ready ourselves for the next catch, or prepare fillets from fish too injured to be released (not too many). After four days at sea, however, I was restless, because despite the excitement and exhaustion of tagging, I wasn’t getting any real exercise. Our boat was big and relatively stable as boats go, but not stable enough to allow for jogging laps of the deck without risking serious injury (wet decks did not bode well for my klutzy nature), nor were there any good bars or pipes to use for pull-ups (clearly this was before my cycling days). Swimming would amount to (wo)man overboard and was not permitted. I was desperate.

Albacore in the water

Where there’s a will there’s a way, as they say, so I headed below deck to my bunk and did a set of sit-ups, crunches and leg raises (our PI had her own bunk and being the only other female, I did too -- a rare luxury). I felt better, but not as good as I would after an aerobic effort. So I began jogging in place, alone in my bunk below deck for twenty minutes (I know). That did the trick, however, and man did I feel good!

Each day I added something new: push-ups, dips, jumping jacks, one-legged hopping or high-knee jumps (low ceilings below deck), and began increasing the intervals to thirty and forty-five minutes. After a few days of solo exercise, I finally shared my extremely dorky workout idea with the rest of our team. As it turned out, most were suffering the same malaise, so we created a group session and made it into a game.

The game was to simulate a run on the coastal trail near our lab back in Monterey. It was tight quarters below deck, so we lined up single file facing the “leader” who would lead for ten minutes and then switch with another. We would start by jogging in place, as the leader described the scene: We’re at Cannery Row; a tourist bus is about to unload, so we have to sprint to get past the pier before the tourists hit the ground! We’d then sprint in place until the leader said we were in the clear and could resume a normal pace. Then: Okay just hitting the stretch to the aquarium, but look out! Seagulls attacking! Drop! Thus, we’d drop and do push-ups until the leader called all clear. Et cetera. The game would go on until we’d done close to an hour of exercise, often laughing in hysterics at the random antics each leader would throw into the mix.

As days turned into weeks, and the newness of our circumstances began to fade into routine, this little tradition became our daily shot of energy and renewal. We emerged refreshed and ready for whatever chaos the ocean might throw our way. Our group would sometimes double in size as the appeal of an endorphin rush seemed contagious.

I took inspiration from this memory for my off-season training this year. No, I’m not on a boat, but neither do I want to shell out big bucks for a gym membership. Recalling what intense workouts we used to do with no equipment whatsoever, I started crafting a program I could do at home. With some creative new suggestions from my coach, I’ve got a full-body strength training program that kicks my a-- at home for free. Even better? I get to play my own music and sing along at will, without offending anyone.

Don’t get me wrong; a gym membership can be fantastic. You get access to good equipment and can workout with a trainer or with friends for company. Even the membership fees can provide extra motivation and accountability. But the gym isn’t for everyone.

If you’re looking for a good way to build muscle, strength and flexibility without going to the gym, I’ve got some suggestions for you. My workouts obviously focus on cycling fitness, but they can definitely apply to general fitness or other sports (for example, my husband does the same workouts to prep for the coming ski season). In my next column, I’ll cover some of these exercises for your consideration. Perhaps you can start a fitness routine at home, or incorporate them into whatever gym work you’re already doing.

Check out the gallery below for more images from the tagging mission. Your questions and comments are most welcome!

Thanks for reading,
Amber

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos: Amber Pierce

I was recently asked to relate some little-known facts about myself, a question that led me to look up this piece, which I'd done for a blog a while ago. Just to mix things up a bit, I decided to post it here for fun.

1. I believe the universe is a friendly place. I believe in the good in people and in the world and do not care if that makes me naïve. I don’t really think it does.

2. I wish I could reasonably drink coffee all day long and have breakfast for every meal.

3. Between the ages of 10 and 22, I spent an average of almost 1,000 hours a year in swimming pools and feel grateful for every minute, even for early morning sessions. I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything.

4. In middle school, I won a hatchet-throwing contest.

5. I love cooking for other people. I once worked as a cook on a tall ship, cooking for forty people in a rocking, listing galley. It was some of the hardest work I've ever done: 18 hour days with a 20 minute break (if that), but it was also some of the most rewarding work I've ever done. Food has a great way of lifting spirits and bringing people together, and I love facilitating that.

6. I didn't know it at the time, but one of the best days of my life was the day I met the mysterious hot guy on my college cycling team in the grimy basement of Roble Gym to pack bikes. That guy turned out to be David - my rock, and now my husband.

7. I love big storms, especially thunder and lightening storms with pouring rain.

8. When I was 14, I made tips playing classical piano in a small town bar in Bryan, Texas.

9. Someday, I want to own a huge trampoline. I love trampolines and equate trampoline jumping to instant happiness.

10. I’m a fifth generation Californian, born in Berkeley.

11. I like all kinds of music, but I am not one of those people who say so to avoid naming a genre: I mean it. Back in my swim days my ‘pump up’ mix included Led Zeppelin, White Zombie, Vivaldi, Easy E, Van Halen, Sex Pistols, Tom Petty and Marilyn Manson. I love Opera and banjo and get the chills every time I hear live music.

12. I've swum with sharks in open water.

13. My most spectacular scar resulted from attempting to answer the telephone.

14. In fourth grade, I punched a fifth-grader on the school jungle gym, because he was kicking off all the smaller kids. It’s the only fist fight in which I’ve ever participated, and I threw the only punch (totally smoked him, though).

15. I have huge feet: size 42, which probably helped my swim career.

16. When I was little, I was painfully shy. My mom recognized this early and explained that I would be well-served to work on this. She explained this surprisingly well, given I was about five. I then embarked on a period of my life in which I forced myself to strike up conversations with people I didn’t know well, or didn’t know at all. I have vivid memories of the mix of angst and determination in this endeavor, but it eventually got easier and sure did the trick.

17. I learned how to drive a manual transmission on a tractor, and I’m proficient with a lasso.

18. I've surfed with dolphins and performed surgery on tuna.

19. I appreciate humor of all kinds, but especially the dry and dark varieties. I struggle in vain to suppress a compulsion for making puns.

20. I love that I grew up in Reno. I love Nevada and the beauty of the desert and mountains. I think more clearly in the mountains.

21. When I was in the fourth grade, I started a neighborhood recycling service, wheeling a red wagon from house to house collecting recyclables. I typed up pamphlets on water conservation, printed them on our dot matrix printer, and distributed them to neighbors. My dad bought me a can crusher, which increased efficiency and made me feel official.

22. While I don’t party often, when I do, I go big. I’ve thought of several examples not appropriate for this post, but which make me laugh out loud. Life is good.

23. I believe play is essential to health and a full life. Kids and animals play all the time. We forget this too often, which is why I also love swings: they’re a good reminder.

24. I believe in true love, from experience.

25. I am constantly moved by the depth and strength of all the people in my life.

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

A new use for my beer mug.

For the record, I don’t follow a specific diet. I generally believe in eating real, unprocessed foods, as opposed to substituting artificially low-cal, low-fat, low-sugar products for the real thing. I’m not an advocate for Atkins, or Paleo, or the Zone. Normally I don’t categorically eliminate anything (e.g. fat or sugar), but instead strive for a healthful balance of protein, good fats, fruits, vegetables and whole grains.

I say “normally” because I’m currently 26 days into a 30-day elimination diet: no wheat, gluten, dairy (including butter) or eggs. I’m testing for food allergies, after some late-season blood tests revealed major red flags (namely: off-the-charts oxidation levels, cellular inflammation, IgG values and a concerning cholesterol profile—yikes). These results and almost a year of nagging health problems prompted this experiment. Lucky for me, I get to work with a fantastic endocrinologist who believes we can get everything on track naturally by tweaking my diet. Sounds good to me!

Now, before I get into the nitty gritty, let me just emphasize a couple of points. First, I’m doing this with the guidance of a doctor, based on my own personal symptoms and physiology; what works for me won’t apply to everyone. Also—importantly—I’m not eliminating these foods to restrict calories or lose weight. I’m testing whether these foods cause adverse reactions that until now have gone unnoticed (because I have been eating all of these foods everyday for as long as I can remember).

From my experience and observing other athletes, I don’t recommend categorically eliminating foods from your diet just to restrict your caloric intake. If you have genuine intolerances to certain foods, then you need to avoid them. However, if you eliminate, for example, gluten or carbs* from your diet just to cut back on calories, you’re setting a powerful guilt-trap for yourself. When you do eat the food you’ve banned (whether on accident, for convenience, or a moment of weakness), you’ll feel bad and stress about it. The point of improving your diet is to nourish your body and reduce unnecessary physiological stress, and sometimes, the stress of not eating certain foods is worse than the actual food itself. If you’re trying to cut back on sugar, for example, then cut back most of the time, with an occasional sweet treat. If you’re getting it right 80% of the time, you’ll still form a new, good habit and reap all the associated health benefits. Don’t crack yourself trying to be a monk about it.

When it comes to testing for allergies, though, I knew I would need to be ultra strict for the 30-day trial (again I would not recommend this for the long-term, unless treating a true intolerance). When the doc first went over the plan with me, I half-joked that it was actually a food elimination diet, given that I eat wheat, gluten, dairy and eggs nearly everyday. My normal breakfast of yogurt and müsli went out the window, as did milk in my coffee, sandwiches, pastries of any kind (even most gluten-free muffins are made with eggs or butter), beer (hey, it is the off-season, so I’m missing this one), and—heavens above!—cheese.

I dreaded starting this diet, but as soon as I had one gluten/dairy/egg-free breakfast under my belt, I didn’t want to ruin the project or have to start all over again. Besides, looking at it as a 30-day challenge made it much easier to manage; anytime I found myself craving a pastry (we live above a bakery for crying out loud), I’d think, no big deal, it’s just a month.

Soy and almond milk made easy, accessible substitutes for my milk habit (though I now prefer to drink my coffee black). I scoured the web for gluten-free, dairy-free recipes to substitute my other staples (e.g. cereal, breads, pasta) and found plenty. For baked goods, the hitch was finding the right ingredients – almond flour, coconut oil, egg substitute. These things are not easy to find in Austria.

Discouraged by the lack of ingredients, I tried a pre-made gluten/dairy-free bread mix from the health food store. I was a few days into the diet and had found that I wasn’t really craving bread as much as the comfort of my daily rituals. I wanted a sense of normalcy, and since I was giving up all this good stuff, why shouldn’t I at least have that? I made three loaves of this stuff before I decided I didn’t actually like it. My only motivation for eating it was to enable other cravings, like jam.

So far, this kind of discovery has been the most valuable part of the experiment – reexamining my eating habits. Habits are not bad, unless they’re doing you harm. In fact, you can develop some really great, healthful habits when it comes to your nutrition. Although my habits were never particularly bad (there are worse addictions than müsli and plain yogurt), it’s been good to reexamine them and find areas for improvement. I might also find that what I thought was a healthful food is actually causing an allergic reaction in my system. So far, I haven’t noticed any major changes to how I feel physically, but I have yet to reintroduce any of the potential allergens. We’ll see!

In the meantime, I’ve received a lot of questions on what to eat, if not wheat, gluten, dairy or eggs. Truth be told, I thought I might not be able to survive without milk in my morning coffee, or (gasp) my daily yogurt and müsli fix. Other meals are a bit easier, but making breakfast without wheat, gluten, dairy OR eggs seemed like a big challenge at first. So, here are some ideas for tasty gluten/dairy/egg-free breakfasts!

Smoothies

Smoothies provide a delicious start to the day, and they meet all the criteria that make cereal so appealing – quick, easy and tasty. I use an immersion blender, which makes prep and clean-up fast and easy: toss the ingredients into the plastic cup, blend, and drink. The mixer rinses quickly and easily in the sink (even less clean-up than cereal). Cinch!

Here are a few of my favorite combinations, so far.

1 banana
½ cup fresh or frozen berries
¼ cup almond butter
¾ cup soy or almond milk
honey (to taste)
vanilla (to taste)

½ can coconut milk
1 banana
1 TBSP cocoa powder
honey (to taste)
vanilla (to taste)

½ can peaches (I do try to avoid anything with fructose syrup)
½ cup soy yogurt
½ cup fresh or frozen berries
2 TBSP almond butter
½ cup soy milk

1 cup loosely packed fresh baby spinach
½ can peach halves
¼ cup Zwetschkenrösti (cooked plums)
½ cup soy yogurt
¼ cup fresh or frozen raspberries
2 TBSP almond butter

Gluten/Dairy/Egg-Free “Cereal”

If this doesn’t quite cut it, and you’re craving a bowl full of crunchy goodness, then here is a good cereal replacement:

Combine
¼ cup hot water (I use an electric kettle for this)
1 TBSP Chia seed
2 TBSP Almond Butter
1 tsp Honey
¼ tsp Salt (less if your almond butter is already salted)

Mix until creamy and smooth; then add:

Coarsely chopped walnuts
Pumpkin seeds
Flax seeds
Dried fruit (e.g. raisins, cranberries, etc)
Fresh fruit (e.g. berries, chopped banana, grated apple)

Stir; then top with soy or almond milk.

There are some great resources on the web; here are a few of my favorites:

http://healthyblenderrecipes.com/recipes/

http://www.caneat.org/

http://www.affairsofliving.com/

http://www.elanaspantry.com/

http://smittenkitchen.com/

Questions? Comments? Please leave a message below!

Thanks for reading,
Amber

*  The term "carbs," as it is used in Atkins-type nomenclature, annoys me to no end. A carbohydrate is a macronutrient present in all fruits and vegetables, cheeses and even in lean meats (all muscle tissues store glycogen – admittedly a nutritionally negligible amount, but still carbohydrate). To say that one is not eating any “carbs” when in fact one is eating fruits, vegetables, cheese and meat is just wrong. It’s not possible to not eat “carbs” unless you are not eating; virtually every food contains some form of carbohydrate. The notion of vilifying carbohydrates is seriously misled. If you want to avoid eating processed sweets like pastries, or you want to cut back on refined breads and pasta and rice, by all means, do it. Just call it what it is.

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos: Amber Pierce

By Amber Pierce

It’s the off-season! Since I’m temporarily scaling back my training regime to normal-person hours, I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands. This extra time gets allocated to everything I don’t get to do during full-time racing and training. Some of those things are fun; for example, I get to have a social life, drink wine, play tourist, hike, run and be home. Other things, however, are necessary but not fun, like filing and doing taxes. Let’s focus on the fun stuff, shall we?

Hiking in the Austrian Alps:

A Hütte on the trail in the alps south of Salzburg

Rest stop above a glacier

Hiking toward the gipfel on the Sonnblick

An alm below the Hochkönig

Hiking through Plitvice National Park in Croatia:

The unbelievably clear water of the Plitvice Lakes

Views from the trail

Waterfalls cascade from one lake to the next along the trails in the park

Wooden boardwalks wind above the lakes and falls of Plitvice National Park in Croatia

Relaxing on the Croatian Coast:

The harbor in Selce

Beautiful blue waters of the Adriatic

Home:

View from the Schlossberg in the Altstadt Graz

The off-season is a time to target different goals than the race season, and the next couple of columns will address some ideas on nutrition and cross training. If you’ve got questions, send them my way! Please leave your feedback and questions below in the comments section.

Thanks for reading!

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos: Amber Pierce

By Amber Pierce

In the sport of cycling, there’s a saying: no one else in the picture. It’s the sweetest way to win a bike race—solo, so far off the front that you cross the line with no one else in the picture. The only way it could be sweeter? To do it in your hometown.

The Tour de Nez is Nevada’s longest-running stage race, 2011 being the 20th year of this spectacle of unabashed enthusiasm for bicycles. The party features world class hand-cycling, clunkers, kids, professionals, couriers, and showgirls (this is Reno, baby). Not only is this race ridiculously fun and cool in its own right, but it also happens to be held in my hometown.

This year, the race integrated nicely with another staple of the Truckee Meadows—Artown. For one month every summer, the community pulls out all the stops for a celebration of art and culture, in the same all-inclusive style as the Tour de Nez. The Artown festival runs the gamut of creativity and culture with visual, performance, and historical arts featuring local and visiting artists. Part of the mission of Artown is to make this festival as accessible as possible to everyone, so museums and galleries open their doors for free exhibits, public parks echo with the music of free concerts, sculptures abound in public spaces, and local businesses subsidize events to keep entry fees as low as possible.

Allow me to paint the scene of Artown in Reno. A couple nights before the race, my parents and I headed downtown for dinner (that’s yet another thing to love about this town – a smorgasbord of excellent dining experiences). As we strolled along the river (downtown has too much cool stuff to see to just go straight to the restaurant) past some impressive sculpture installations, crowds on picnic blankets and folding chairs took in a live open-air concert at Wingfield Park—the island in the Truckee River downtown. The concert provided a nice soundtrack while folks gathered on the river banks to swim, wade, tube, kayak, fish and sunbathe (for real, I saw at least one person partaking in each of these activities, all within three city blocks). Just imagine—floating on the river in the afternoon sun, enjoying live music only a few feet away from a litany of fine restaurants, microbreweries, cafés, galleries, museums, wine bars, old west saloons and casinos. Later that evening, the same open-air amphitheater would be screening the weekly free-movie-in-the-park with a public showing of Breaking Away. Seriously, how cool is this town?!

Well, it gets cooler. Sunday morning got things rolling with the annual Tour de Nez in all its unconventionally fabulous glory. The Nez is much more than a bike race. It is—and always has been—about celebrating bicycles with a big, fat party.

This year, the festivities kicked off with some of the top hand cyclists in the nation throwing down in an inspiring show of strength, followed by both Juniors and Masters categories on the same course. Couriers lined up for the N’Alley Cat race, a crazy full-speed scavenger hunt through the streets of downtown Reno, followed by the Annual Clunker Race, in which folks bring out some crazy looking bikes including everything from big old commuters to antiques and hand-made or super-modified machines. The kids’ race was led by local police on motos that blared full sirens and lights, much to the delight of all the little tykes.

Then came the women’s race: my favorite race, in my favorite town, in front of the home crowd. There was so much to be happy and grinning about that I felt more excited than nervous. I got to reconnect with a bunch of people I’d known growing up, not to mention catch up with some of my favorite bike racers I hadn’t seen since racing most of the season in Europe. It was a banner day before the race even started!

Whatever nerves I did have went away the moment the starting gun blasted. As we rounded the first few corners, I felt right at home – calm, focused and happy to be racing my bike. I think I heard at least one “Go Amber!” in every corner of the technical course, which made it hard not to grin from ear-to-ear in the middle of the race!

Without getting into the nitty-gritty of a race report, I went for a late-race prime and kept going. With a monster effort out in the wind (and some disorganization in the field behind me), I stayed away to cross the line first, with no one else in the picture. Best of all: I got huge hugs from my parents at the finish. And two Reno showgirls presented the awards on the podium, which is what happens when you win in the Biggest Little City in the World!

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos & Video: Amber Pierce (first, second); Gary Douglas (third - fifth & video)

By Amber Pierce

Earlier this month, I raced the Giro Donne, ten days of racing over some of the most beautiful (and cruel) terrain in Italy. Many racers postulated that it was perhaps the hardest Giro to date. I wouldn’t know, because this was the first year I’ve raced it.

Upon arrival to our hotel at the race start in Rome, we all received a copy of the race bible, and naturally, one wants to flip through and peruse what is to come. As one does so, however, one realizes what a very bad idea that is. It’s overwhelming. The sheer weight and thickness of the race bible speaks to the volume of racing in store, and the spiky course profiles look even worse when you squint to make out the scale. Of course, we need to prepare ourselves mentally for what is to come, and to understand the over-arching race tactics that will guide our strategy as a team on the road each day. So how do we mentally handle a big tour like this? The answer is intentional temporary amnesia.

As we line up for the start of a stage, we forget about the following seven stages, the scary-looking climb on the next day’s profile, or how shattered we might have felt at the end of the previous stage. We have to focus on the race at hand and forget everything else. Crossing the finish line of one stage becomes the start of the next. That stage is behind you, for the time being forgotten; ahead is recovery and preparation for the next stage, and nothing beyond it.

As we get into the final few stages of the race, of course, we start counting down. Stage nine was the last road stage of the tour, with the last big mountain-top finish (the final stage was a 17km individual time trial). One hundred and forty kilometers of rolling terrain led us into the final climb of the day, and of the tour. My job in the role of domestique was the same as every other day in the tour: protect our General Classification (GC) riders and get them to the base of the climb safe, fresh, and in perfect position. In other words, my job was to stay with our leader in case of a mishap or crash, chasing her back to the peloton, protecting her from wind while in the main bunch, maneuvering around the peloton to keep her in good position, and going back to the team car for bottles and food to keep everyone well-fueled. It’s a lot of work, more than enough to ensure that I wouldn’t be finishing with the front group.

That day, as was the case with most of the other big climbing days, I worked with my other teammates to get our GC leader into ideal position as we rounded the bend where the final switchbacks came into view. We had chased her back from a crash early in the race and had subsequently spent a lot of time in the wind keeping her protected as we covered the ground leading to the final ascent. So, as we rounded the first switchback and our GC leader took off with the other climbers and GC contenders, we eased off the gas and began the climb together at a pace we like to call piano.

In a tour as long and difficult as this, teamwork is absolutely essential for success. In the same way that a GC rider must conserve energy to execute her job (e.g. gain time on a big climb), a domestique must also conserve her energy to best execute her job, which may not include the big climbs. When my teammates and I ease up and settle into the grupetto pace on a final climb, it isn’t because we don’t care about the race, or because we’re giving up; quite the opposite, we’ve expended an enormous amount of energy to do our jobs during the race until then, and at that point, our responsibility is not to race for an individual result, but rather to conserve energy, so we’ll have more to give the following day when we’re going back for bottles, or riding in the wind to protect our GC leaders.

On that last road stage, the grupetto rounded the first series of switchbacks that led into a tunnel, which constituted most of that final climb. Our small group made our way up the 10 and 15% pitches under the dim orange lights that illuminated the long Galleria. The sound and smell of the follow cars filled the cavernous concrete structure, as we pushed the pedals, drinking what we had left and sharing provisions if needed.

As each meter ticked by, it seemed that our orange shadows might never again see the light of day. Suddenly, one of the follow cars had the genius idea to crank up the stereo. The music echoed through the tunnel in funky surround-sound and instantly had us all grinning, adding a little more oomph to each pedal stroke. Our little parade of cyclists and cars and music rolled thru the long tunnel, eventually back into sunlight, where the fresh air and stunning mountains further re-energized us for the last kilometers.

We rounded a corner, and as the 3km to go banner came into view, we cheered, giddy with exhaustion and the satisfaction of knowing we were on the verge of completing one of the toughest races in the world. My teammates and I grinned at each other and put our hands around one another’s shoulders, a simple, meaningful gesture containing all the emotion and effort of nine days of racing together.

Fans crowded the streets as we rolled through the small mountain villages, adorned in pink ribbons, balloons, and banners, and swelling with crowds that must have tripled their populations. The cheers and cowbells propelled us those last kilometers, a crescendo building to the finish line.

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photos: © Amber Pierce

By Amber Pierce

A race block can loosely be defined as whatever races and travel occur between when you pack your bag, and when you get home and either unpack and/or re-pack for the next block. Time between race blocks can vary from a single day to a few weeks, depending on the calendar. This most recent block began when I got re-packed at the team house after Muri Fermani… at 2am… and flew the next morning from Venice to Philadelphia.

Philly is a huge race, because a) it’s by far the most prestigious one-day race in America, and b) everything about the race is cool on a grand scale. Philly is just a cool city. It’s got a gritty, all-American-melting-pot aesthetic that charms the pants off you.

Saturday’s race prep went something like this. We ran a Q&A session with fellow Fuji Bikes teams, Geox TMC and Fly-V Australia, for the Cadence Cycling Foundation supported by Fuji Bikes. The kids had some great questions (“How are you going to be able to ride up the [Manayunk] wall so many times?”), and after the Q&A, we all rode out to Manayunk together. These kids were a lot of fun, and their enthusiasm for the sport was the perfect pre-race energizer.

After previewing most of the course, we ate, napped and headed out to dinner in Manayunk with Fuji Bikes, where we got to chat with the people who make the magic behind our bikes. The folks at Fuji are genuinely awesome people, and the party they hosted for us in Philly was just another example of the fun and thoughtful way they do business and support the sport.

Heading back to the hotel, we hitched a ride in the Geox team van and got to catch up with our men’s team. It was good practice for our broken Italian (better than our broken Spanish), but several of the guys spoke English too. The next day in the race, as the men’s and women’s pelotons passed one another going opposite directions on Kelly Drive, we waved to each other in a nice show of camaraderie. That’s another reason to like Philly – the men’s and women’s teams have a chance to show support for one another, as they race the same course on the same day. I hope we’ll have the chance to do it again before the year is out.

Post-race, our team gathered for a full-on American-style backyard barbeque, courtesy of Shelley’s family in Philly. We indulged in handmade burgers and specialty franks, fresh guacamole, salsa and tortilla chips, the likes of which we knew would not be seen again once we returned to Europe.

The following day, we flew to Minneapolis, Minnesota, where we stayed for a week leading into one of my favorite stage races in North America: the Nature Valley Grand Prix.

When my husband (who is from Minnesota) meets other people from Minnesota, he laughingly says, “You must be a good person,” but he’s not really joking. Minnesota really is good people. Our hosts, Maria and Linsey, gave up extra space in their homes for us to eat, sleep and generally invade their lives for two weeks. My in-laws and close friends threw a barbeque in honor of the team and rallied a committed group of supporters to come out and cheer for us everyday. Fellow racer Bjorn Selander (Team Radio Shack) and his dad, Dag, took us on some fantastic training rides across the St. Croix in Wisconsin (and let us use their home in Hudson as a temporary HQ after long training rides). My in-laws even made the drive out to Menomonie to surprise us with homemade muffins after the stage!

We also owe a big debt of gratitude to the folks at The Angry Catfish, a well-curated, hip-as-the-day-is-long “bike+coffee” shop in south Minneapolis. They feature excellent coffee (I recommend the Smoked Sea Salt Mocha), served by talented, friendly and efficient baristas at the front counter, which opens into a sleek, warehouse style shop and café (complete with sofas and hand-made, polished concrete countertops supported by steel road frames).

Aside from earning this shout-out by virtue of the quality of their coffee and service, the folks at Angry Catfish claim a soft spot in my heart for all they did to help us out during our stay. We showed up for coffee on our first day in town, and asked whether anyone could direct us to an easy 2 hour loop. Instead of pulling out a map, the owner, Josh, generously hopped on his own bike to guide us for 2 hours through town in 105 F heat (that’s 40 C!). They then essentially gave us full support for the whole stage race. (And yes, their coffee was a staple pre-race indulgence!)

I’d also like to give a shout to the organizers of the Nature Valley Grand Prix. This race has gets bigger and better every year, and they have always been mindful of supporting the women’s side of the sport with excellent media coverage and huge crowds. To the NVGP crew – thank you. And keep it coming! We love your race!

From Minneapolis, we flew onward to Augusta, GA for the US National Championships, leaving behind Minnesota Nice and stepping into the land of Southern Hospitality--also not just a cliché. Our hosts Hugh and Pam showed us every kindness, as did their friends at Outspoken Bicycles (please check them out if you’re ever in Augusta!). We nearly melted in the heat and humidity, with the exception of the criterium, which ended in a fury of wind, rain, thunder and lightening.

Still using the same luggage I’d packed before Muri Fermani (yes, that’s a month of the same tiny selection of clothes, which still seemed to be more than I actually needed), I then flew from Atlanta to Frankfurt to Venice, where I met up with the rest of our team to get ready for the big one: The Giro Donne.

Amber Pierce - An American expat living in Austria, Amber has made the leap across the Atlantic in pursuit of her dreams on the road. After making a name for herself as one of the top road cyclists in the US, she now faces new challenges in her life on the road in Europe.

Amber's path to full-time racing in Europe has been anything but linear. From high school valedictorian holding national swimming records, to scholarship athlete at Stanford University and researcher on the open ocean, she has found herself in countless adventures all over the globe. With 53 career victories under her belt, however, Amber appears to have found her calling on the bicycle.

Photo: Courtesy Diadora Pasta Zara/Fuji Bikes