Cheribundi Ambassador: Olympic Rower Esther Lofgren

Coming Home with Gold

by Janine Frank

Many of us dream of it, very few achieve it. But Esther Lofgren knows what it’s like to win Olympic gold.

“It’s the best feeling in the world!” she says.

Lofgren achieved that remarkable triumph at the 2012 Olympics in London last month where she competed in Women's 8 Rowing. The race itself lasted just 6 minutes and 10.59 seconds, but the sweet victory was years in the making and now a memory that will be treasured for a lifetime.

Lofgren, a 27-year-old from Newport Beach, California, first started rowing when she was in high school. She was playing volleyball at the time and needed a way to cross-train. But she got hooked on the sport and eventually switched over to rowing exclusively.

Lofgren describes rowing as an endurance power sport. “Besides balancing in a long, tippy boat, a race is equivalent to power-lifting as quickly as you can for 5 to 7 minutes.” She says a lot of the training that goes into rowing is logging miles and miles in the boat to build up the lungs and muscles for the more intense challenge of racing.

During training for London, Lofgren discovered Cheribundi, a drink that she says is ideal for those in endurance sports. “I drink Cheribundi about once a day, especially after endurance cardio workouts when I need to replenish glycogen stores and get antioxidants in my body.”

Lofgren says the Whey Cheribundi with added protein is very similar to the home-made recovery drink she used earlier in the year before she discovered Cheribundi. “But with the bonus of taking zero prep and being really easy to toss in my gym bag,” she adds.

And since she’s a national team athlete, she appreciates how wholesome Cheribundi is. “I am subject to random drug testing and it’s really nice to have a supplement that is quality tested so I don’t have to worry about contamination. It’s just a wholesome product that’s great for recovery and is what it says it is,” Lofgren explains.

Rowing may come somewhat naturally to Lofgren considering her parents were also elite U.S. rowers. She says they’ve been her biggest inspiration. “My mom was actually the last woman cut from the 1984 Olympic quadruple sculls, a boat that went on to win gold,” she explains. “I was cut from the 2008 boat that also went on to win gold.”

But she was determined to go to the Olympics and continued with the sport hoping for a 2012 opportunity. When it materialized, Lofgren felt deeply grateful to those who helped her get there. “As soon as we crossed the finish line, I was totally overcome. I thought about all of the people who’d believed in me, who’d supported me through all of the training it took to win gold.”

So what’s next for someone who finally achieved her lifelong goal?

“I’m not sure. Right now, I’m looking for a job. I’m giving the real world a shot for the next several months, but I’m leaving the door open on whether I want to keep rowing.”

With Lionel Richie in the green room of the Today Show.

Even though she’s won a gold medal, Lofgren says she still has a couple more athletic goals she would like to achieve. “I’ve just started road biking and I’m getting ready to do a century ride: 100 miles! I love running and am also working towards running my first marathon this fall.”

After winning gold it could be hard to stay motivated for new challenges, but Lofgren says that’s not the case. “In life, I go by the mantra “Trust the Journey.” All of the ups and downs I have been through in rowing and in life make the great things that happen that much more special. I don’t ever wish for things to be easy, only worth it.”

And as for 2016? “Everyone keeps asking about Rio, which is way too far away to think about…but man! Who wouldn’t want to do this again?”

Janine Frank lives in Lafayette, Colorado with her husband, two sons and golden retriever. She writes about fitness, natural products and the great outdoors.

Cycling Champion Mike Zagorski

Cheribundi Ambassador living life to the fullest

by Janine Frank

What does a two-time national cycling champion have in common with an architect, a construction engineer, a Scotsman, a surfer and a new dad? It's not the beginning of a weak joke; it's a description of Mike Zagorski. He's a very busy man who is about to become even busier.

With his first child due in September, Mike is trying to squeeze in a lot of cycling these days. The 32-year-old lives on O'ahu in Hawaii, where he's currently training and competing in BMX events. Although his national champion status comes from track racing, Mike says the BMX training this year is helping him hone specific muscles he'll need when he gets back on the track next year.

To stay in top shape and add variety to his fitness regimen, Mike also enjoys hiking and surfing. In fact, he says he finds it hard not to fall into a daily surfing habit.

When he's not outside exercising, Mike has a full-time job as an engineer for a construction company. He recently received his architect license and is now working toward a Masters degree in Construction Project Management.

Although Mike admits that it's often difficult to balance his career with such an active and demanding athletic life, he makes it work because cycling is his lifeblood. Since the age of 10, he remembers taking off on his mountain bike in the Scottish Highlands, where he was born and raised. These “epic” rides introduced him to the enduring thrill of cycling. He and a friend once rode their bikes to a World Cup event where they got to ride the course after the race and meet many of that era's top riders. After that, he was hooked.

These days, Mike shares the BMX track with many cyclists far younger than himself. He's been competitive for 17 years, which is just about as long as some of his competitors have been alive. Mike says that eating well has helped him maintain a competitive edge. Because he lives in Hawaii, fresh fruit, vegetables and seafood are plentiful. He's often able to forage wild grown strawberry guava on the roadside during training rides. 

Because it's so warm in Hawaii year-round, Mike is very conscious of staying properly hydrated. He drinks Cheribundi tart cherry juice during rides, along with a lot of water. He says the cherry juice adds variety to his fluid intake and also helps reduce muscle inflammation.  He adds that he also drinks Cheribundi on rest days to help speed up his recovery time. He says, “You don't put regular gasoline into a Ferrari and the same can be applied to athletes. Junk in = junk out.”

One of Mike's favorite sayings that helps him keep achieving his goals despite his busy life is, “Failing to plan is planning to fail.” To that end, Mike has big plans for this September. Not only will the new baby make her appearance, but he's also been invited to fly with the Blue Angels. He will be enjoying the exhilaration and some really fast-moving scenery from the back seat of the #7 jet during their performance in Kaneohe Bay.

Here at Cheribundi, we're glad that Mike is constantly challenging himself to reach higher and go farther and faster, not only on his bike but also in his professional life, home life and his spare time. Keep living the dream, Mike! Cheribundi is happy to be part of the ride.

Janine Frank lives in Lafayette, Colorado with her husband, two sons and golden retriever. She writes about fitness, natural products and the great outdoors.

Guest Blog—Picture Rock: Scenes from Life in a Colorado Mountain Town

Picture Rock: Installment Three

Spin

By EZ Ryyder

It’s going to be a long, hot day in the saddle.  My water bottles are filled, my tires are pumped up to 120 psi and my chain is freshly lubed.  I’m drinking a mixture of whey protein and tart cherry juice waiting for the group to gather at the market. 

It’s only 9 o’clock but the sun feels warm on my face.  The breeze is light and blowing out of the southwest under a big, blue Colorado sky.  The snow is still heavy on the divide and it captures most of my attention.  I’m looking for cloud plumes coming off the ridge, an indication of wind up high, but don’t see any. The first green shoots are emerging from under winter’s dead grass and before long, the straw colored carpeting will all be green.

I’m pretty content sipping my juice and waiting.  

Jeff comes roaring in from the south pulling a freight train of a peloton. Two by two, the riders peel off the shoulder, into the parking lot and dismount.  A few push their bikes over to the rack and disappear into the market while a few more just stop and lean across their top tubes.  After topping off water bottles and snacking on protein bars, we point our bikes towards the canyon and start pedaling. 

We’re flying along on Main Street as we pass Redstone Coffee.  There are more bikes out front and riders drinking espresso under umbrellas from the sidewalk tables.  We nod as we zing by. 

Six miles into the ride we enter the mouth of the canyon.  The river cascades down from the divide between sandstone cliffs the entire length of the canyon.  But we’re still at the bottom and as we begin the climb, we’re all in our big rings and chatting easily.  Passing Nelson Ranch on the right, we see a small herd of mule deer grazing on the hillside.  I always expect to see a mountain lion crouching in the bushes, stalking the deer but never do. 

As we sweep around a long, arcing, left hand turn the gradient increases and we rise out of our saddles as we power over the top only to drop back onto our saddles as the hill drops away below our skinny tires.  The pavement is buttery smooth and we pick up speed and coast down to where the canyon narrows.  That’s the last downhill.  The next 12 miles are all uphill to 9,200 feet.

Pretty soon Jeff drops the hammer and it’s on.  A gap opens up and we all pick up the cadence so we don’t get dropped.  It’s getting harder to talk and ride so the conversation tails off and is replaced with the whir of the chain and the chunky clunk of shifts from one gear to another.  No squeaky chains in this group. The smell of pine and new growth fills the air and the sound of rushing water fills our ears.

Damn that gap! I’m falling off the wheel so I pedal harder and faster.  My breathing and heart rate quicken and sweat starts to form on my forehead.  I wipe the perspiration with the soft part of my glove and try to will my bike back onto the wheel that is now about 10 feet in front of me.  Alberto Contador seems to dance lightly in his clips when climbing.  I can’t say that’s what I’m doing but I am out of the saddle and stomping on the pedals.  Within a couple of seconds I’m back on the wheel but Pete and Joey fly by me on the left. 

The walls of the canyon are closing in as the incline steepens.  On the left, raging whitewater careens over boulders in foamy chaos.  Ponderosa pine scent mixes with wildflowers growing by the side of the road.  We haven’t been passed by a car going either direction in the past 30 minutes so we are startled to hear the high rev whine of a pack of street bikes coming up quickly behind us.  As they rocket by, the piercing sound of their exhaust bounces off the rock face in the Big Narrows. And then they are gone around the next bend and I hear my own rhythmic breath going in and out.

I’m drifting to the back as we near the top and turn south on the Peak to Peak.  It’s flat for several tenths of a mile but then we hit our first downhill.  I shift into my big ring, tap-tap-tap-tap through my gears and ramp up the cadence anticipating the steep decline.  Ten more pedal strokes and I tighten into a tuck.  My hands are in the drops and I lower my back so it’s so flat that you could set a tray of wine glasses up there.  Except they would blow right off. 

The wind is howling in my ears and tears are forming in my eyes.  I blink them away and steer around Joey to the left and slide into Pete’s draft.  He is pedaling at a good clip and I’m coasting but I’m catching him.  Rather than brake, I sit up a little and that slows me enough that I can follow effortlessly. 

I zoom along like this until I feel guilty and then rise to my feet and blast by Pete as if I were shot out of a cannon.  I’m going just over 50 MPH and I see Jeff up ahead of me but I won’t catch him before the next hill.  And what a hill it is. 

At the base of the last climb, I settle into a steady rhythm and pace myself so I don’t blow up.  If I tried to catch Jeff, I would bonk for sure.  We are now 40 miles into the ride and The Wall is right in front of us.  The Wall is a section of the road that is almost a mile long with a 12% grade.  The fact that you hit it at 9,600 feet above sea level only makes it worse. 

Pete and Joey pass me for the second time and our whole group is getting stretched out and shattered by the climb. Four more riders slip by before we reach the summit.  There are six riders still in pursuit but they won't catch us.

We are just above tree line and 12,000-14,000 foot peaks stand sentry to the west. There is a bit of a Chinook crosswind pushing us from the side but it won’t be there long. 

Our reward is a 16-mile descent back into Picture Rock.  It is literally downhill all the way to the brewery.  The road is smooth, curvy and we are flying, swooping and charging our way back to town. 

I pass the four riders and only Jeff, Joey and Pete remain in front. Tradition dictates that the first one to the brewery eats and drinks for free.  The next two riders get free beer.  The rest pick up the tab. 

Jeff won’t be paying for food and if I can catch either Pete or Joey, that cold one at the end will be that much more satisfying.

© EZ Ryyder 2012

EZ Ryyder spends his time a little bit farther down the road.  Past the city limits.

Guest Blog—Picture Rock: Scenes from Life in a Colorado Mountain Town

Picture Rock, Installment Two

Jam

By EZ Ryyder

Climbing up the worn wooden stairs, we’re surrounded by promo photos of musicians from the days when bands had press kits.  I smile at Katy, and the Prophet just nods as we stroll through the front reception area.  I slip the mandolin case off my shoulder and stash it behind the Elvis statue. The Prophet hangs on to his banjo case.

The restaurant is packed with mountain bikers, kayakers, local families, tourists, climbers and an assortment of people that just can't be classified.  The wait staff is bustling around, explaining the beer selections, taking orders and carrying trays with a mixture of plates and glasses.  There doesn't seem to be an open seat and there is no hint of what's to come. 

We wander into the other room, sort of an upstairs bar with “seat yourself” tables in the center of the room, high tops along the walls and windows that look out on the hills and redstone cliffs.  There is a wrap around porch outside with more tables through the heavy glass door.  There are a couple of seats at the bar and we slide in and stake our claim.  Annie’s blue-green eyes sparkle our way from under her curly brown hair while she fills two pints and talks to an older gentleman with a fishing cap and a scraggly beard, and before you know it, she asks us what we’ll have.  I order a Devious Ale and the Prophet gets a whiskey and a glass of water.

We wait for the other musicians to show, sip our drinks and talk about how quickly the trails are drying out. 

Kasey and Erik host the weekly bluegrass jam at the brewery.  Most of the time, at least one of them is off touring with a band. Tonight, they are both in town and there is a buzz of anticipation as a few more folks carrying instruments walk into the bar and tuck their instrument cases out of the way.  Or try to.  The cases are always in the way. 

Around eight o’clock, the last guests finish their dinner and as soon as they get up, people start clearing the tables and carrying them out to the porch and stack them on the outside tables.  Next, the chairs are dragged across the wooden floor and arranged in a circle.  The instruments come out and banjos, fiddles, mandolins and guitars somehow get spaced out so there aren’t too many in a row. 

Erik kicks off the jam with a John Hartford tune, “Here I Am In Love Again.”  After the first verse, the solos start snaking their way around the circle.  When it gets to me, I do my best to play crisp notes that project across the room and don’t get lost in the volume of the jam. Then it’s back to the next verse and the solos pick up at the spot in the circle where they left off.

Most of the pickers are quite competent.  Some are spectacular. 

After the song finishes, the next person in the circle selects the next song and around it goes.  By now, there are 15 people in the main circle and there is barely room to stand in the bar.  Soon, additional circles begin to split off in other parts of the building and as the evening rolls along, the real pros start to show up. 

There is a jam circle in the front lobby, two in the main dining room and one on the back porch.  That’s not counting the main jam that got things going.  The place is mobbed.  The Tuesday night ride from the Cyclery has occupied the large, Viking-length table in the back—which seems fitting as this group has been pillaging the most technical terrain above town for the past few hours wearing headlamps. 

Clusters of people fill the open space between the jams.  It’s hard to tell the musicians from the fans or the random folk that stumbled into something real and alive, ebbing and flowing with notes flying through the air and bouncing off the walls.

I wander into the other room to check out another circle and see the Prophet tearing it up with Kasey, Joseph, Topher and some fiddle player that I’ve never met.  Kasey is singing “I’ve Endured” and it strikes me that this is probably one of the most enduring jams anywhere. 

As on most Tuesdays, I feel lucky to be here.


Next: Installment Three, Spin

© EZ Ryyder 2012

EZ Ryyder spends his time a little bit farther down the road.  Past the city limits.