This past weekend I planned to double up on the bike racing Saturday and Sunday while mixing in family activities all over IL. Saturday I took the wife and kids up to Chicago to visit one of Michele’s good friends from college. They’re expecting their first child and so there was lots of excitement with that - and the world cup. After a leisurely lunch at a café in downtown we headed to Kankakee for the Cobb Park Criterium. This is Michele’s favorite race of the year. The shaded park along the Kankakee river provides a very comfortable location for family viewing. Furthermore, the short laps taken at (relatively) high speed make it more fun to watch than say, Hillsboro.
Burnham lined up 6 guys in a 30 man field. I think XXX did the same. Needless to say, these teams have been having their way with the cat 3 races lately. An early move went and so did Nick. It got brought back and Jason (Burnham) went again. The move had a XXX racer in it and Nick took off to catch this one, too. He took a Psimet rider with him and they were out of sight for a long time. Eventually, John (Tati) decided it was time and went, and that was the cue for those in the know to not miss out. The rest of the field was split and I was the last man in this group on the road. I shouted that we had a gap, but John realized he was pulling the field and sat up. The split ended and XXX and Burnham went back to blocking. In the hours since I consider this moment a mistake on my part. After John’s big pull and subsequent field split (though it only lasted about a lap) I should have countered and taken whoever was hungry with me. We could have had 4-5 guys in a chase group. However, Nick was up the road and I thought I should sit in. I’ve still got a lot to learn!
Nick eventually made it up to the break with psimet, but popped. This is a familiar scene in the 3’s this year. One of us will get to the move of the day and then blow up. Leaving the other to counter or chase. But, Nick lasted until 7 to go. His fitness is right there. One of these races he’ll connect, I’m sure. Anyway, Nick comes back. ½ lap later I go. I get a gap but as it turns out, we’re at 5 or 6 to go. I don’t have the juice to go the distance, and the pack is not interested in letting me go at this late hour. Alas. I did get a “pizza prime” while off the front, but with a 50 second gap to bridge, well, it didn’t happen. After getting unceremoniously caught, a lap or 2 went by and I started telling myself that I “needed to check the lap count”. 2 to go. At this point I am SO glad I burned a couple matches off the front for nothing! I start thinking about how I can move up but we’re on the last lap. Going into turn 2 I’m on John’s (Tati) wheel. John is a big rider and I watched him win the drag race at the Urbana Grand Prix, so I figure he’ll move up and I’ll have a great leadout. John rubs the wheel in front of him coming out of turn 2 and sits up. He kept it up but I moved ahead for another wheel. I see Chris (Burnham) who I know has a good sprint, but he’s 4 riders ahead of me and I do not want to chop the last turn. Some other dude decides that IS a good idea and he proceeds to clip a pedal coming out of the turn, sending his rear wheel into a little slide in one of those slow-motion moments. I was looking through the turn so I was essentially watching it happen. Homeboy kept it up, but it was pretty harry for a moment. Newt (Ritte v Vlaanderen) checked up a bit to avoid homeslice’s powerslide – not something he was pleased about after the race. Well, if you’ve raced or seen Cobb Park before, you know that at this point it’s full gas for the last 200 meters around a gentle left hand bend. Everybody was up out of the saddle, but I was able to move through the group “easily.” I say “easily” but my HR was above 180, so that should be put into perspective. I saw Chris (Burnham) ahead of me move up the left side, and seperated by about 3 bikes I followed his line. He then cut right to the outside and I began going in that direction, too. I kept the gas on to the line but he still had some distance on me. Probably a bike length or two. I honestly think I was gaining on him, but not enough to matter without another 50 meters. He crossed the line having just overtaken the first two who took the last corner (we had started from outside the top 10 around the last corner). I came out of it 4th in the field sprint and 7th overall. It was a fun sprint but there was a lot to (re-) learn.
First, I was not in the correct position for the sprint. I knew this and had hoped to get a “leadout” from other racers, but still, I should have been 4th or 5th wheel around the last turn, not 12th. Second, while shifting down the cassette in the finishing stretch I was ready for one more shift but decided not to hit it. Why, you might ask? Well, on the previous Wednesday I had shifted into my 11 while sprinting for the Urbana town sign (at approx. 37mph on flat ground) and my chain began jumping. Being the fastidious bike mechanic that I am I neglected to do anything about it between the training ride and the race. In the finish I didn’t want my chain to start jumping, so I was “only” in my 12 tooth cog. I realize that I am entering an entire new world of whiney-bitchdom by saying I would have done better in an 11 tooth cog…but I would have. Having clocked 39 mph in the sprint in the 12, I’m confident I would have gone a little bit faster had I shifted into a reliable 11. Needless to say, I will get this fixed before the state criterium this weekend. New chain? Clean chain? Cabling? It’ll get sorted tonight!
After the top ten finish at Cobb Park, Sunday brought new challenges. My brother, who had been visiting for the week, needed to be sent by rail back to KS. I found the Gateway GI Babler Extreme Circuit Race flyer earlier in the week and thought I could put him on Amtrak in the morning and then do the race in the afternoon. Perfect, eh? There were 2 problems with this plan: first was the 4AM departure from the house that would deliver my bro to StL., secondly, I try to avoid close associations of the words “gastrointerology” (a.k.a GI) and “extreme”. Weighed in the balance I thought it was worth it for another race start, and frankly, racing in Missouri has been very very good to me this year.
After my bro was on his way and I had passed a few hours of work time at Panera, I showed up at Babler State Park. There were no signs of bike racing. Zero. I drove around, reread the flyer, and drove around some more. Nothing. The park ranger confirmed: race cancelled. The explaination was the lamest in cycling history: recent rains made the field planned for use as a PARKING LOT un-usable and therefore the race was cancelled. Beautiful pavement: check. Secluded, closed roads: check. Great course with a monster hill: check. Bike racers: check. All the essentials were present for a great race. For crying out loud, I will park 5 miles away and ride to the start if I must. Regardless, the race was cancelled. So I made the best of it and rode 6 laps around the park while thoroughly enjoying the terrain. The big hill would be difficult to get up in less than 2 min (I climbed avg 400W for 2:15 and ~10mph, to give you an idea; and I weigh about 190 w/ bike + bottles + etc). I imagine in a race scenario I could give a little more to hold a wheel while jamming out of the saddle (and weigh a little less – frame pump, spare tube, multi-tool, extra food), but it would still be a brutal climb at race pace. Most trips up I was riding in the saddle in a 39x21 or 39x23. I don’t think a 25 or 27 would be necessary unless the group is crawling (sub 8mph avg), you were doing 10 laps, or you just love to spin spin spin. On one of the downhills I clocked 47mph. I wasn’t “trying” to go fast by sprinting into it and then tucking, I was just in the drops. Yeah, fun times in a pack of 40 of your best friends, right? Well, it would have been good racing, but I got some good training in anyway. According to the StL forum (which I didn’t check before the race – doh!) they are trying to reschedule. A BIG thanks to my wife who gave me the Father’s day present of time – time to go play bikes in StL.
Next up: State Criterium Championships in Peoria, IL. THE race of the year.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
O'Fallon Grand Prix 2010
I’ve started 4 races now as a category 3 racer. I’ve learned a few things. Here are the highlights in bullet format:
• Cat 3 races are tougher than Cat 4 races.
• Cat 3 racers are MUCH cooler than you. Especially if you wish to speak to another cat 3 racer during a race.
• You (ok, I) can’t win a cat 3 race while making stupid mistakes (unlike in a cat 4 race, when you – I – can kind of come back from them).
So how did the race go? Let me tell you.
Stage:
O’Fallon hosted the state championship road race. Typically, this has been my worst race of the year. I say typically because I’ve only raced the state RR twice previously, and I’ve crashed once and almost quit once. My first attempt at State road racing glory was way way back in 2007 – my first race ever. I finished 13th in fact. Out of 17. I got dropped at the end of the first of 2 laps, turned around, and headed for the car until a friend who got dropped before me, found me and talked me into riding it out. I passed 2 more guys to get that 13th finish. Maybe it wasn’t that bad then. In 2008 I returned to the road race, this time in Oak Brook, but unlike the late gain in placements from 2007, I was sitting 2nd wheel about 300-500 meters from the line. The rider in front of me pulled off to the right, taking out my front wheel, and about 10 of us hit the deck. My first crash in a race. Sadly, my teamates and I were stacked 3 or 4 deep in the top 10 going into that crash. None of us came out of it in the top ten. With the background out of the way…
The O’Fallon course was a 22.5 mile loop over a mix of terrain. I wouldn’t call it rolling, nor flat, just a hodgepodge. There were some headwind sections, but the wind was pretty tame at a sub 10mph breeze. There were (if memory serves) 3 climbs of note on the course, each taking between 10 and 40 seconds to complete. Clearly, sprinter’s climbs. However, this course was to be run 3 times in the cat 3 race. At 67 miles, it is the longest race of the season for me (by 9 miles!). And we all know what happened last time I was in a long, semi-hilly road race.
The Race:
We rolled out with about 50 combatants under hot and humid conditions. The pace was pedestrian, and it was clear a lot of guys were thinking something similar to me: 67 miles - 3 laps – is a long way, better sit in for a while. That’s just what I did. Sit in the top 20 or so guys and keep an eye up the road for trouble. Trouble found me anyway on that first lap, at about 30 minutes in. Going into a sharp left hander, I felt my front tire give. I was about to lean into the turn fully when this sensation registered, so I immediately yelled “flat!” and went straight through the turn into a gravel shoulder. By the time the pack had passed me, I had already taken the front wheel out and was waving it franticly at the wheel truck. Hooray for spare wheels. I fished my spare out of the truck, and asked for a free lap. After a small push from the driver (on foot) I was chasing the pack. Free lap denied. So much for saving energy the first two laps! I was pretty fresh at this point, but in the heat and starting from a dead stop at the base of the 2nd longest climb - I was pegged pretty quick. I just held a hard pace until I could see the back of the pack. As I got closer I could see my teamate Nick tailgunning it, waiting for me to get close enough and then he’d lend a hand. There was no sense in him taking himself out of the race if I wasn’t strong enough to get back in it, yet he was ready to help me out. Quite the class move. After about 10 minutes of hard riding I got a break in his draft and we traded pulls for a few more minutes until we were back on. I immediately began working my way forward as the accordian effect would surely sap all ability to recover.
It turns out that Nick wasn’t as fresh as I thought. He told me later that he had crashed in a corner after I had the flat and was forced to chase back on himself. He was at the back because he had just made the catch! Clearly he was strong that day.
With our first lap plan of resting in the pack completely shot, we hit the “big” climb of the lap. Pushing the little ring I spun up it and advanced several places. I was very pleased with the ease with which I moved up considering I had prepared myself mentally for sag climbing the hill. This would continue to be the case with the climbs on the next 2 laps – each time I would advance positions without much “work” beyond what I felt was keeping pace. Now I am no grimpeur, but this is a massive change from a year ago when any pitch up in a course meant I was sailing out the back of a group – and that in the cat 4’s!
The second lap saw some serious attacking from the bunch as the race was officially on. I went with a promising looking one, which got brought back pretty quick. Nick bridged to the next big move (which included Joe of Verizon) and it stuck. 8 guys were soon up the road with a big gap. Like 30 seconds big. I was pleased with the situation, as Burnham, Bloomington, WCC, and Verizon all had a guy in the move, with ample bodies to block. I was trying to keep cool and eat as appropriate, but in the heat, my stomach did not feel comfortable at all. Even drinking regularly was upsetting me.
After several miles of block and chase (most with me sitting in the top 15, only occasionally directly blocking), I saw a couple riders coming back from the break. Sadly, one of them was Nick. The group had stopped working together and Nick got popped after a pull. It was a shame as he was away for a good 20 miles – 1/3 of the race! As I saw him up the road I moved next to Scott (ISCorp) who is a big young motor. I asked him if he had anything left (since he had been animating the race a fair bit) and he said he did if I had a jump. I of course answered “that’s the only thing I’ve got man.” Since it’s true. I started tempoing up to the front with designs of countering Nick’s move before he got caught. The idea being that I would go “up over the top” of Nick and hopefully take a TT monster like Scott with me to the break and keep that funk alive. As I approached the front I heard guys calling me out, but I jumped anyway. I got a gap but after a few seconds of hard pedaling I checked my six to see Scott pulling the whole field up to me. I sat up at that point, and we soon caught Nick. Lame. I just didn’t have the legs to go all out for 2-3 more min. to try to shake the pack. Nick slotted back in the bunch and looked comfy while I was a few wheels hinter. It turns out my little flail began to exact a cost I couldn’t pay.
I began throwing up. It’s never happened in a race before. Actually, it’s never happened on a bike ride before of any kind. But it happened. Did I eat too much? With 1 gel down after 60+ miles, I doubt it. I think I was succoming to the heat again. You can guess what happened next …I started loosing positions in the pack faster than I could spew excuses or stomach fluids. On my way out Nick (WCC) and Keith (Unattached) shouted encouragement to “hang in there”, “dig deep”, and all of that. At mile 63, I was dropped. Now, it wasn’t just my tummy troubles which sent me out the back, though I think that was a primary cause. At the front of the race things were heating up as the break had completely shattered by then and the pack was greedily reeling riders in one by one. Attacks were flying (I would guess) and the race was getting tougher. What surprised me most though was how quickly I lost myself. From top 15 to out the back was less than 3 minutes. It was there one minute and gone the next. Slowing down to 15 mph and turning the pedals at 60 rpm helped me begin to recover. Getting some water made a huge difference. I tempoed up the final climb noting that I still had decent legs but sheepishly crossed the line alone in 37th.
Epilogue:
This summer has not been the cycling-results-love-fest the spring often was. Since upgrading I’ve had a flat, a crash, a heat wimp-out DNF, and been dropped in a RR. Woohoo. The cat 3 races are more demanding and punish weakness. And as I’m sure you know – I have a lot of weakness(es). However, I have to say it was my best state road race attempt yet. I had hoped for a lot more, and frankly, the flat tire definitely reduced my chances. Therein lies a major difference of cat 3 and cat 4 races (for me at least) – if you make a big mistake, you won’t have enough juice to recover. When I dropped my chain at the base of the big climb, also on the first lap, of the cat 4 Springvalley RR, I caught on after some hard riding and still finished 4th – despite attacking the field another 4+ times. At O’Fallon I attacked the field 2 more times yet couldn’t finish with the pack. L’Ouch. I know I’m a strong rider (my powertap and my mommy tell me so), but I need to take the game to the next level between the ears if I’m going to be standing on a podium any time soon. Until I have fistfulls of increased fitness, the margins are just that tight.
• Cat 3 races are tougher than Cat 4 races.
• Cat 3 racers are MUCH cooler than you. Especially if you wish to speak to another cat 3 racer during a race.
• You (ok, I) can’t win a cat 3 race while making stupid mistakes (unlike in a cat 4 race, when you – I – can kind of come back from them).
So how did the race go? Let me tell you.
Stage:
O’Fallon hosted the state championship road race. Typically, this has been my worst race of the year. I say typically because I’ve only raced the state RR twice previously, and I’ve crashed once and almost quit once. My first attempt at State road racing glory was way way back in 2007 – my first race ever. I finished 13th in fact. Out of 17. I got dropped at the end of the first of 2 laps, turned around, and headed for the car until a friend who got dropped before me, found me and talked me into riding it out. I passed 2 more guys to get that 13th finish. Maybe it wasn’t that bad then. In 2008 I returned to the road race, this time in Oak Brook, but unlike the late gain in placements from 2007, I was sitting 2nd wheel about 300-500 meters from the line. The rider in front of me pulled off to the right, taking out my front wheel, and about 10 of us hit the deck. My first crash in a race. Sadly, my teamates and I were stacked 3 or 4 deep in the top 10 going into that crash. None of us came out of it in the top ten. With the background out of the way…
The O’Fallon course was a 22.5 mile loop over a mix of terrain. I wouldn’t call it rolling, nor flat, just a hodgepodge. There were some headwind sections, but the wind was pretty tame at a sub 10mph breeze. There were (if memory serves) 3 climbs of note on the course, each taking between 10 and 40 seconds to complete. Clearly, sprinter’s climbs. However, this course was to be run 3 times in the cat 3 race. At 67 miles, it is the longest race of the season for me (by 9 miles!). And we all know what happened last time I was in a long, semi-hilly road race.
The Race:
We rolled out with about 50 combatants under hot and humid conditions. The pace was pedestrian, and it was clear a lot of guys were thinking something similar to me: 67 miles - 3 laps – is a long way, better sit in for a while. That’s just what I did. Sit in the top 20 or so guys and keep an eye up the road for trouble. Trouble found me anyway on that first lap, at about 30 minutes in. Going into a sharp left hander, I felt my front tire give. I was about to lean into the turn fully when this sensation registered, so I immediately yelled “flat!” and went straight through the turn into a gravel shoulder. By the time the pack had passed me, I had already taken the front wheel out and was waving it franticly at the wheel truck. Hooray for spare wheels. I fished my spare out of the truck, and asked for a free lap. After a small push from the driver (on foot) I was chasing the pack. Free lap denied. So much for saving energy the first two laps! I was pretty fresh at this point, but in the heat and starting from a dead stop at the base of the 2nd longest climb - I was pegged pretty quick. I just held a hard pace until I could see the back of the pack. As I got closer I could see my teamate Nick tailgunning it, waiting for me to get close enough and then he’d lend a hand. There was no sense in him taking himself out of the race if I wasn’t strong enough to get back in it, yet he was ready to help me out. Quite the class move. After about 10 minutes of hard riding I got a break in his draft and we traded pulls for a few more minutes until we were back on. I immediately began working my way forward as the accordian effect would surely sap all ability to recover.
It turns out that Nick wasn’t as fresh as I thought. He told me later that he had crashed in a corner after I had the flat and was forced to chase back on himself. He was at the back because he had just made the catch! Clearly he was strong that day.
With our first lap plan of resting in the pack completely shot, we hit the “big” climb of the lap. Pushing the little ring I spun up it and advanced several places. I was very pleased with the ease with which I moved up considering I had prepared myself mentally for sag climbing the hill. This would continue to be the case with the climbs on the next 2 laps – each time I would advance positions without much “work” beyond what I felt was keeping pace. Now I am no grimpeur, but this is a massive change from a year ago when any pitch up in a course meant I was sailing out the back of a group – and that in the cat 4’s!
The second lap saw some serious attacking from the bunch as the race was officially on. I went with a promising looking one, which got brought back pretty quick. Nick bridged to the next big move (which included Joe of Verizon) and it stuck. 8 guys were soon up the road with a big gap. Like 30 seconds big. I was pleased with the situation, as Burnham, Bloomington, WCC, and Verizon all had a guy in the move, with ample bodies to block. I was trying to keep cool and eat as appropriate, but in the heat, my stomach did not feel comfortable at all. Even drinking regularly was upsetting me.
After several miles of block and chase (most with me sitting in the top 15, only occasionally directly blocking), I saw a couple riders coming back from the break. Sadly, one of them was Nick. The group had stopped working together and Nick got popped after a pull. It was a shame as he was away for a good 20 miles – 1/3 of the race! As I saw him up the road I moved next to Scott (ISCorp) who is a big young motor. I asked him if he had anything left (since he had been animating the race a fair bit) and he said he did if I had a jump. I of course answered “that’s the only thing I’ve got man.” Since it’s true. I started tempoing up to the front with designs of countering Nick’s move before he got caught. The idea being that I would go “up over the top” of Nick and hopefully take a TT monster like Scott with me to the break and keep that funk alive. As I approached the front I heard guys calling me out, but I jumped anyway. I got a gap but after a few seconds of hard pedaling I checked my six to see Scott pulling the whole field up to me. I sat up at that point, and we soon caught Nick. Lame. I just didn’t have the legs to go all out for 2-3 more min. to try to shake the pack. Nick slotted back in the bunch and looked comfy while I was a few wheels hinter. It turns out my little flail began to exact a cost I couldn’t pay.
I began throwing up. It’s never happened in a race before. Actually, it’s never happened on a bike ride before of any kind. But it happened. Did I eat too much? With 1 gel down after 60+ miles, I doubt it. I think I was succoming to the heat again. You can guess what happened next …I started loosing positions in the pack faster than I could spew excuses or stomach fluids. On my way out Nick (WCC) and Keith (Unattached) shouted encouragement to “hang in there”, “dig deep”, and all of that. At mile 63, I was dropped. Now, it wasn’t just my tummy troubles which sent me out the back, though I think that was a primary cause. At the front of the race things were heating up as the break had completely shattered by then and the pack was greedily reeling riders in one by one. Attacks were flying (I would guess) and the race was getting tougher. What surprised me most though was how quickly I lost myself. From top 15 to out the back was less than 3 minutes. It was there one minute and gone the next. Slowing down to 15 mph and turning the pedals at 60 rpm helped me begin to recover. Getting some water made a huge difference. I tempoed up the final climb noting that I still had decent legs but sheepishly crossed the line alone in 37th.
Epilogue:
This summer has not been the cycling-results-love-fest the spring often was. Since upgrading I’ve had a flat, a crash, a heat wimp-out DNF, and been dropped in a RR. Woohoo. The cat 3 races are more demanding and punish weakness. And as I’m sure you know – I have a lot of weakness(es). However, I have to say it was my best state road race attempt yet. I had hoped for a lot more, and frankly, the flat tire definitely reduced my chances. Therein lies a major difference of cat 3 and cat 4 races (for me at least) – if you make a big mistake, you won’t have enough juice to recover. When I dropped my chain at the base of the big climb, also on the first lap, of the cat 4 Springvalley RR, I caught on after some hard riding and still finished 4th – despite attacking the field another 4+ times. At O’Fallon I attacked the field 2 more times yet couldn’t finish with the pack. L’Ouch. I know I’m a strong rider (my powertap and my mommy tell me so), but I need to take the game to the next level between the ears if I’m going to be standing on a podium any time soon. Until I have fistfulls of increased fitness, the margins are just that tight.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Tour de CU
This past weekend was the highly anticipated (by me) Tour de CU in Champaign-Urbana. The Champaign course was the same as last year’s research park crit (a fast rectangle with a slight rise through the start/finish) while the Urbana course was a giant bubble letter “L” when viewed from above. A box with a long straight ending in a 180deg turn, then back into the box. Needless to say, fun fun fun.
Setting:
The conditions were harsh. Not by absolute standards (80 deg. Sat. and 90 deg. Sun.) but when one considers that we’ve been racing in 60deg F temps, a sudden 20-30 degree increase really raises the workload on the body. It seemed very few were ready for the heat. Otherwise the wind wasn’t bad, and the roads were ok.
The Field:
The Cat 3 field had about 40 guys both days. Plenty of fast guys were there. Of particular note for me was one John Whipple (Tati) who drove the break that popped me at Hillsboro-Roubaix earlier this season.
Nick and I were racing for WCC and it was quite a comfort to have a teamate in the races – knowing I could cover a move and he would get the next one. Plus, I lean on his experience a lot. The Verizon guys were familiar faces and their friendship out there was cool, too. The big surprise at the start line was Dan Penner (of Portland, OR) who was in town for a wedding.
Saturday’s Tour de Champaign:
Nick went with the first move or two while the pace was pretty quick. Joe (Verizon) and I found ourselves on the front blocking for Nick (WCC) and Mark Sills (or Ethan Stone?) (Verizon). That move got brought back and an ISCorp rider (Scott, orange Madone) went off the front. He was looking good up there with Joe (Verizon) and another couple guys for company. I was riding next to Nick at the time and he said “that looks good” or “we need to be in that”. I don’t really remember, but I took off and bridged to the move. I took some hard pulls to help establish the break and we seemed to have a decent gap. Unfortunately that’s about all I could do and I started to get fatigued.
Eventually I got popped out of the breakaway. That’s twice, I want some butts! (Film quote.) I had this moment of indecision in the finishing straight, as the group rode away, but as Don Hiles, John, and John (WCC) yelled at me to keep going I jumped on it and chased for half a lap and caught back on. Needless to say, I was gassed. Perhaps the same was true for the other guys (save Scott) as it became the Scott show: him dragging us around. Every once in a while one of us would pull through, but it was not enough to keep the field at bay.
After about 5 laps, on the headwind stretch, the field was within 5 seconds of our break and Ryan Zook (Start 2 Finish) attacked out of the pack and while flying past our disintigrating party shouted: “You boys done racing?!” Scott answered his acceleration and they were off. As 3 of us were absorbed into the pack Nick went across and the 3 of them were away. Turns out, that was the break of the day.
Nick dropped out of that break (I think) and I tried to bridge up to it later and popped in the headwind section halfway across (which was a pretty crappy thing, let me tell you!), so Nick went again and I think that finished him off. I sat in for a few laps to recover. I maintained good position but got swarmed with 2 to go. Sprinting out of 15th, the long false flat tired many a rider, as most did not have a 300 meter sprint left in the legs, so I was able to come around 9 guys and take 6th. Not bad for my first full fledged 3’s race.
The heat was definitely a factor; I could not go hard for that 3-5 minute duration as I was already panting and feeling like garbage. C’est la vie.
Lessons (I should have) Learned:
-Early breaks usually die.
-The heat kills early breaks (if nobody is acclimated).
-Don’t bridge unless you’re going to make it. And you best make it!
-You MUST be in the RIGHT position for a sprint. It’s worth it – move up!
-Don’t kill yourself with hard pulls in the break.
-If other guys aren’t pulling, you shouldn’t pull either. One man can’t make an early/mid race break unless he’s a monster. And monsters are rare.
Sunday’s IL Cup Urbana Grand Prix:
Same players, new board. The figure 8 was edited in a last minute change to avoid some unpatched pot-holes, with a longer straight and a 180 deg turn added (a nice touch), the figure 8 became a “bubble letter ‘L’.” Also, the temps were another 10 degrees hotter. I was sipping water all day, but 2 laps in I was parched. Yikes.
Nick covered the first few moves as I didn’t feel great during the warmup. Not sure if it was the heat or Saturday’s racing in the legs. All eyes were on Scott (ISCorp w/ the orange Madone, who pulled out the win the previous day).
In a repeat of Saturday I found myself bridging with Joe (Verizon) up to Scott and another rider (or 2/3/4?) in an early move. We knew Scott could ride away with the race and even more than the previous day, the course, with it’s 5 corners and short straights, favored a breakaway. Not surprisingly, Scott powered the break, doin his thang. The pack was strung out in chase and eventually our group ballooned to 15 (?) or so as I think a field split was occuring. I watched as out of turn 3, John Whipple (Tati) accelerated to catch 2 who had just attacked our group. Thus, the break du jour.
Scott, Joe, myself, and one other guy chased for several laps in a replay of the previous day’s break. We were all very tired in the heat and Scott was getting fed up with pulling our lazy butts around – for the second day in a row no less. He would holler for someone to pull through, and I think I was the only one to oblige him. Granted, my pulls were short and sweet (1/4 lap? ½ lap?) but I figured if I could give him a little rest, it would go a long way for our group. Besides, everybody feels like poo currently, right? Well, Scott eventually had enough and the field caught us while Whipple was pushing the break to an insurmountable lead.
I remember bridging solo to a move later in the race (halfway?) but the details are blurry in my mind. It wasn’t pleasant, but I made it across, unlike on Saturday. +1. Like every break prior, we got caught after not working well together.
I sat in and noticed I was drifting further and further back in the field. Efforts to move up brought cold chills and I started to think about pulling the plug. After a few more laps I decide I had enough and I let the group ride ahead. After the 180, off the back, the breakaway lapped me. Within 5 laps they would lap the field. Whipple ended up winning the sprint and the race by a millimeter (NOT an exageration – Rob took some slow-motion footage at the line, and it was too tight to call after 3 viewings!).
Epilogue:
The Sunday Pro/1/2 race followed the 3’s in more ways than one - more than 50% of their field dropped out, just like the 3’s. After my race I felt like crying. I haven’t cried about a sporting event since middle school soccer (as a player – not a coach!). I didn’t, but that’s probably since my body knew it needed the water elsewhere. The words of a certain narrator keep coming to mind: “Sometimes you eat the bar (bear), and sometimes, the bar eats you.”
Bike racing is fun but hard. I’m happy with my result from Saturday and I’m glad I rode hard in the Sunday race and helped animate it while I was in it. I certainly have a lot to learn in this game and can’t bank on superior fitness to make up for naïve tactical decisions. Frankly, I’m brand new at this breakaway stuff as I don’t think I was ever in a break that lasted very long in the 4’s. The heat was a factor all weekend long and I hope my body has begun acclimating to it as the June races aren’t going to be any easier. A further positive is the fact that I’m active in these races and see the winning moves happening. As Joe (Verizon) commented after Sunday’s race: “We were too early in the race for the breakaway.” And he’s exactly right. The next step is moving from the 2nd best move of the day to the winning move. This incremental increase I doubt is easy to attain. Yet, I feel I was on the cusp of the fitness and tactics necessary to be in that elusive right place and right time. I hope I can continue to get fitter and smarter here in the cat 3’s, and for crying out loud – it’s only my second weekend in this category.
Finally, my wife was super patient letting me participate in the crits, help out here and there, and cheer on my teamates in other categories.
Setting:
The conditions were harsh. Not by absolute standards (80 deg. Sat. and 90 deg. Sun.) but when one considers that we’ve been racing in 60deg F temps, a sudden 20-30 degree increase really raises the workload on the body. It seemed very few were ready for the heat. Otherwise the wind wasn’t bad, and the roads were ok.
The Field:
The Cat 3 field had about 40 guys both days. Plenty of fast guys were there. Of particular note for me was one John Whipple (Tati) who drove the break that popped me at Hillsboro-Roubaix earlier this season.
Nick and I were racing for WCC and it was quite a comfort to have a teamate in the races – knowing I could cover a move and he would get the next one. Plus, I lean on his experience a lot. The Verizon guys were familiar faces and their friendship out there was cool, too. The big surprise at the start line was Dan Penner (of Portland, OR) who was in town for a wedding.
Saturday’s Tour de Champaign:
Nick went with the first move or two while the pace was pretty quick. Joe (Verizon) and I found ourselves on the front blocking for Nick (WCC) and Mark Sills (or Ethan Stone?) (Verizon). That move got brought back and an ISCorp rider (Scott, orange Madone) went off the front. He was looking good up there with Joe (Verizon) and another couple guys for company. I was riding next to Nick at the time and he said “that looks good” or “we need to be in that”. I don’t really remember, but I took off and bridged to the move. I took some hard pulls to help establish the break and we seemed to have a decent gap. Unfortunately that’s about all I could do and I started to get fatigued.
Eventually I got popped out of the breakaway. That’s twice, I want some butts! (Film quote.) I had this moment of indecision in the finishing straight, as the group rode away, but as Don Hiles, John, and John (WCC) yelled at me to keep going I jumped on it and chased for half a lap and caught back on. Needless to say, I was gassed. Perhaps the same was true for the other guys (save Scott) as it became the Scott show: him dragging us around. Every once in a while one of us would pull through, but it was not enough to keep the field at bay.
After about 5 laps, on the headwind stretch, the field was within 5 seconds of our break and Ryan Zook (Start 2 Finish) attacked out of the pack and while flying past our disintigrating party shouted: “You boys done racing?!” Scott answered his acceleration and they were off. As 3 of us were absorbed into the pack Nick went across and the 3 of them were away. Turns out, that was the break of the day.
Nick dropped out of that break (I think) and I tried to bridge up to it later and popped in the headwind section halfway across (which was a pretty crappy thing, let me tell you!), so Nick went again and I think that finished him off. I sat in for a few laps to recover. I maintained good position but got swarmed with 2 to go. Sprinting out of 15th, the long false flat tired many a rider, as most did not have a 300 meter sprint left in the legs, so I was able to come around 9 guys and take 6th. Not bad for my first full fledged 3’s race.
The heat was definitely a factor; I could not go hard for that 3-5 minute duration as I was already panting and feeling like garbage. C’est la vie.
Lessons (I should have) Learned:
-Early breaks usually die.
-The heat kills early breaks (if nobody is acclimated).
-Don’t bridge unless you’re going to make it. And you best make it!
-You MUST be in the RIGHT position for a sprint. It’s worth it – move up!
-Don’t kill yourself with hard pulls in the break.
-If other guys aren’t pulling, you shouldn’t pull either. One man can’t make an early/mid race break unless he’s a monster. And monsters are rare.
Sunday’s IL Cup Urbana Grand Prix:
Same players, new board. The figure 8 was edited in a last minute change to avoid some unpatched pot-holes, with a longer straight and a 180 deg turn added (a nice touch), the figure 8 became a “bubble letter ‘L’.” Also, the temps were another 10 degrees hotter. I was sipping water all day, but 2 laps in I was parched. Yikes.
Nick covered the first few moves as I didn’t feel great during the warmup. Not sure if it was the heat or Saturday’s racing in the legs. All eyes were on Scott (ISCorp w/ the orange Madone, who pulled out the win the previous day).
In a repeat of Saturday I found myself bridging with Joe (Verizon) up to Scott and another rider (or 2/3/4?) in an early move. We knew Scott could ride away with the race and even more than the previous day, the course, with it’s 5 corners and short straights, favored a breakaway. Not surprisingly, Scott powered the break, doin his thang. The pack was strung out in chase and eventually our group ballooned to 15 (?) or so as I think a field split was occuring. I watched as out of turn 3, John Whipple (Tati) accelerated to catch 2 who had just attacked our group. Thus, the break du jour.
Scott, Joe, myself, and one other guy chased for several laps in a replay of the previous day’s break. We were all very tired in the heat and Scott was getting fed up with pulling our lazy butts around – for the second day in a row no less. He would holler for someone to pull through, and I think I was the only one to oblige him. Granted, my pulls were short and sweet (1/4 lap? ½ lap?) but I figured if I could give him a little rest, it would go a long way for our group. Besides, everybody feels like poo currently, right? Well, Scott eventually had enough and the field caught us while Whipple was pushing the break to an insurmountable lead.
I remember bridging solo to a move later in the race (halfway?) but the details are blurry in my mind. It wasn’t pleasant, but I made it across, unlike on Saturday. +1. Like every break prior, we got caught after not working well together.
I sat in and noticed I was drifting further and further back in the field. Efforts to move up brought cold chills and I started to think about pulling the plug. After a few more laps I decide I had enough and I let the group ride ahead. After the 180, off the back, the breakaway lapped me. Within 5 laps they would lap the field. Whipple ended up winning the sprint and the race by a millimeter (NOT an exageration – Rob took some slow-motion footage at the line, and it was too tight to call after 3 viewings!).
Epilogue:
The Sunday Pro/1/2 race followed the 3’s in more ways than one - more than 50% of their field dropped out, just like the 3’s. After my race I felt like crying. I haven’t cried about a sporting event since middle school soccer (as a player – not a coach!). I didn’t, but that’s probably since my body knew it needed the water elsewhere. The words of a certain narrator keep coming to mind: “Sometimes you eat the bar (bear), and sometimes, the bar eats you.”
Bike racing is fun but hard. I’m happy with my result from Saturday and I’m glad I rode hard in the Sunday race and helped animate it while I was in it. I certainly have a lot to learn in this game and can’t bank on superior fitness to make up for naïve tactical decisions. Frankly, I’m brand new at this breakaway stuff as I don’t think I was ever in a break that lasted very long in the 4’s. The heat was a factor all weekend long and I hope my body has begun acclimating to it as the June races aren’t going to be any easier. A further positive is the fact that I’m active in these races and see the winning moves happening. As Joe (Verizon) commented after Sunday’s race: “We were too early in the race for the breakaway.” And he’s exactly right. The next step is moving from the 2nd best move of the day to the winning move. This incremental increase I doubt is easy to attain. Yet, I feel I was on the cusp of the fitness and tactics necessary to be in that elusive right place and right time. I hope I can continue to get fitter and smarter here in the cat 3’s, and for crying out loud – it’s only my second weekend in this category.
Finally, my wife was super patient letting me participate in the crits, help out here and there, and cheer on my teamates in other categories.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Planet Adventure CMT Brookside Park Crit
Since the race I’ve learned that this bit of pavement is fairly famous for local racers. It is said that one Greg Lemond once raced there. This past Saturday I did my part to add to the history of the course. By crashing out. But first the “rest” of the story.
Luke, Nick D. and I piled into Nick’s car early Saturday morning to head over to Indy. We were in good spirits and chatted about racing and cycling culture for the ride over. Nick is already eager for cyclocross season.
The temps were colder than expected, and the conditions were not met with joy from our lot as Luke had forgotten his knee warmers. Fortunately, in a last minute addition to the gear bag, I had added my red tights and could therefore loan out those precious knee accoutrements. (As a double backup, I had also brought a light embrocation. No, I was/am not a boyscout.)
The race start was unnecessarily hurried as we were beckoned to the line for some 10 minutes and then had to wait 2 more for no apparent reason. Normally this would not be a problem, except that in my rush to empty my bladder and get to the start, I had soiled my beautiful, red, specialized tights. Little did I know to what extent I would soil them that day.
After missing my pedal with my left cleat (when was the last time I did that?!) I was under way and slotted into the top 10-15 wheels. My mishaps continued as my shifting was terrible. Like, constant shifting even though I didn’t press the lever, terrible. I decided on lap 2 that I had to make a wheel change and moved to the front. Coming into the straight-away, I hollered at the guys that I was going to the pit, and with a raised hand, accelerated off the front towards the pit. It must have been a sight. I quickly began removing my rear wheel and a guy (never got his name) helped me with my spare. Even more helpful, he lied to the official for me, saying I had a flat. I was prepared to chase down the field (since the shifting issue is NOT worthy of a free lap), but the official told me to take it easy, and that I would enter on the next lap. How fortunate. A small break was off the front as the field came through and I jumped up to speed fairly quickly (it is, after all, what I *do*.) So now I’m in a breakaway. How delightful. Perhaps the bull of the peloton saw the red pants dancing ahead and accelerated? Perhaps we didn’t work well together. Regardless, it was all together within a lap or two.
With nearly 60 minutes of lactic acid delight ahead of us, the team’s goal was to keep the powder dry early. That didn’t really happen (see above) and all of us were in early moves in the first 15 minutes. Oh well. The race went on with futile moves going and coming. Luke was off the front solo for a few laps and Nick took a group with him later, but it was not to be.
The most interesting part of the course was the extremely bumpy uphill section going into the 2nd (and final) turn each lap. Many riders found it difficult to keep the pace up the hill, while the WCC boys powered up it. This is not just hubris here. Every lap I either maintained or gained positions here – even the time I was pushed into the grass. In such ways the bunch was pretty squirly and with only 2 turns it was easy to sit in. This contributed to a larger field jostling for position later in the race.
With about 5 or 6 laps to go, Luke bridged to a move off the front. It was his turn after I had been reeled in last (or was it Nick?). When he got up to the break, the dudes popped, and Luke started his TT thing. Basically, this was a perfect position for us as a team. Luke can time trial 2 categories above his license, so I slotted onto Nick’s wheel and the two of us patrolled the front. I will admit, I was thinking that if it came back together, I was perfectly situated for a sprint. Nick is a bad dude on a bike, and he would provide a smoking leadout. Further, he has good sprint legs himself. I dreamt of going 1-2.
A group of 3 went off the front with 3 or 4 to go and Nick and I let them be. Luke looked secure and it might be the case that if they catch him, he can draft, recover, and then beat them for first. It was looking more and more likely that Luke was going to raise his hands shortly. And a win for one is a win for all.
Luke continued to hold off the chase as the laps slipped down to 1 to go. Coming through the start/finish, the pace was quick but not hot. The pack usually slowed going into the downhill left hand bend, just as the road narrows. Entering this section, I called to Nick that we were getting swarmed. What I should have said was: up up! Meaning, increase your pace, we’re loosing positions. Soon enough the group was swarming us as we set up for the turn. At that moment a gentlemen to my right decided he should occupy the space that I was riding in, and we began to bump shoulders. Usually I do not “freak out” during these circumstances – I have even been racing up a climb and bumped shoulders and bars with another racer, and both of us just soldiered on – but this was different. A rider on my left moved right (to set up for the left hand turn) and clipped my front wheel. This is a gauranteed way to meet the pavement. And that’s what I did. Skidding on the ground a gentleman behind me ran into me and went flying over the bars.
Coming out of the fetal position after a crash, your senses come back one by one – they were there all along, but you were in the midst of the matrix-esque slow-motion-survival-pacing of reality – and you weren’t watching or listening. You are reacting. I began testing my limbs and checking myself for injuries. After spouting some upset words I realized my bike was nowhere to be found. “Where’s my bike?!” As I got to my feet I saw a rider splayed across it 10 feet away. Oh joy. It’s not ridable, but everything is fixable. What may not be fixable are those beautiful red tights. Alas.
At the business end of the race Luke got caught on that little rise before the final turn. He smartly got in the draft and came out of the group (of 4) with 2nd place. A great result. Nick kept his nose clean and powered out of the last turn to handily win the field sprint for 5th. Not bad for a team of 3.
Nick then lent me his Madone for a cool-down spin (a class gesture, as I was bleeding in several places) and I had the kind nurse clean up my road rash while I nursed my recoverite.
A highlight of the day was seeing Axel line it up with the big boys for 75 min of pleasure spiked with pain. Riding solo he put in a good effort and took 10th. Not bad on a 2000g wheelset.
As a result of the crash, unexpected expenses (bike fixing stuff), and a couple of emergency room visits for my son that night (he’s doing great btw.) we (the wife and I) decided to skip Monsters of the Midway last weekend. I am very eager for the CU crits this weekend and hope I can pull out another hometown win. I know, a big ask indeed!
Luke, Nick D. and I piled into Nick’s car early Saturday morning to head over to Indy. We were in good spirits and chatted about racing and cycling culture for the ride over. Nick is already eager for cyclocross season.
The temps were colder than expected, and the conditions were not met with joy from our lot as Luke had forgotten his knee warmers. Fortunately, in a last minute addition to the gear bag, I had added my red tights and could therefore loan out those precious knee accoutrements. (As a double backup, I had also brought a light embrocation. No, I was/am not a boyscout.)
The race start was unnecessarily hurried as we were beckoned to the line for some 10 minutes and then had to wait 2 more for no apparent reason. Normally this would not be a problem, except that in my rush to empty my bladder and get to the start, I had soiled my beautiful, red, specialized tights. Little did I know to what extent I would soil them that day.
After missing my pedal with my left cleat (when was the last time I did that?!) I was under way and slotted into the top 10-15 wheels. My mishaps continued as my shifting was terrible. Like, constant shifting even though I didn’t press the lever, terrible. I decided on lap 2 that I had to make a wheel change and moved to the front. Coming into the straight-away, I hollered at the guys that I was going to the pit, and with a raised hand, accelerated off the front towards the pit. It must have been a sight. I quickly began removing my rear wheel and a guy (never got his name) helped me with my spare. Even more helpful, he lied to the official for me, saying I had a flat. I was prepared to chase down the field (since the shifting issue is NOT worthy of a free lap), but the official told me to take it easy, and that I would enter on the next lap. How fortunate. A small break was off the front as the field came through and I jumped up to speed fairly quickly (it is, after all, what I *do*.) So now I’m in a breakaway. How delightful. Perhaps the bull of the peloton saw the red pants dancing ahead and accelerated? Perhaps we didn’t work well together. Regardless, it was all together within a lap or two.
With nearly 60 minutes of lactic acid delight ahead of us, the team’s goal was to keep the powder dry early. That didn’t really happen (see above) and all of us were in early moves in the first 15 minutes. Oh well. The race went on with futile moves going and coming. Luke was off the front solo for a few laps and Nick took a group with him later, but it was not to be.
The most interesting part of the course was the extremely bumpy uphill section going into the 2nd (and final) turn each lap. Many riders found it difficult to keep the pace up the hill, while the WCC boys powered up it. This is not just hubris here. Every lap I either maintained or gained positions here – even the time I was pushed into the grass. In such ways the bunch was pretty squirly and with only 2 turns it was easy to sit in. This contributed to a larger field jostling for position later in the race.
With about 5 or 6 laps to go, Luke bridged to a move off the front. It was his turn after I had been reeled in last (or was it Nick?). When he got up to the break, the dudes popped, and Luke started his TT thing. Basically, this was a perfect position for us as a team. Luke can time trial 2 categories above his license, so I slotted onto Nick’s wheel and the two of us patrolled the front. I will admit, I was thinking that if it came back together, I was perfectly situated for a sprint. Nick is a bad dude on a bike, and he would provide a smoking leadout. Further, he has good sprint legs himself. I dreamt of going 1-2.
A group of 3 went off the front with 3 or 4 to go and Nick and I let them be. Luke looked secure and it might be the case that if they catch him, he can draft, recover, and then beat them for first. It was looking more and more likely that Luke was going to raise his hands shortly. And a win for one is a win for all.
Luke continued to hold off the chase as the laps slipped down to 1 to go. Coming through the start/finish, the pace was quick but not hot. The pack usually slowed going into the downhill left hand bend, just as the road narrows. Entering this section, I called to Nick that we were getting swarmed. What I should have said was: up up! Meaning, increase your pace, we’re loosing positions. Soon enough the group was swarming us as we set up for the turn. At that moment a gentlemen to my right decided he should occupy the space that I was riding in, and we began to bump shoulders. Usually I do not “freak out” during these circumstances – I have even been racing up a climb and bumped shoulders and bars with another racer, and both of us just soldiered on – but this was different. A rider on my left moved right (to set up for the left hand turn) and clipped my front wheel. This is a gauranteed way to meet the pavement. And that’s what I did. Skidding on the ground a gentleman behind me ran into me and went flying over the bars.
Coming out of the fetal position after a crash, your senses come back one by one – they were there all along, but you were in the midst of the matrix-esque slow-motion-survival-pacing of reality – and you weren’t watching or listening. You are reacting. I began testing my limbs and checking myself for injuries. After spouting some upset words I realized my bike was nowhere to be found. “Where’s my bike?!” As I got to my feet I saw a rider splayed across it 10 feet away. Oh joy. It’s not ridable, but everything is fixable. What may not be fixable are those beautiful red tights. Alas.
At the business end of the race Luke got caught on that little rise before the final turn. He smartly got in the draft and came out of the group (of 4) with 2nd place. A great result. Nick kept his nose clean and powered out of the last turn to handily win the field sprint for 5th. Not bad for a team of 3.
Nick then lent me his Madone for a cool-down spin (a class gesture, as I was bleeding in several places) and I had the kind nurse clean up my road rash while I nursed my recoverite.
A highlight of the day was seeing Axel line it up with the big boys for 75 min of pleasure spiked with pain. Riding solo he put in a good effort and took 10th. Not bad on a 2000g wheelset.
As a result of the crash, unexpected expenses (bike fixing stuff), and a couple of emergency room visits for my son that night (he’s doing great btw.) we (the wife and I) decided to skip Monsters of the Midway last weekend. I am very eager for the CU crits this weekend and hope I can pull out another hometown win. I know, a big ask indeed!
Monday, April 26, 2010
THe Spring Valley Road Race
The Spring Valley Road Race
The wife and I were in Ohio for a wedding, and the icing on the cake (pour moi) was the road race the next day. The Spring Valley RR was only 30 minutes outside of Dayton, a 9 mile loop, run 5 times (for the cat 4’s) with some small rollers, a little wind, a few turns, forecast of thunderstorms, and a ½ mile climb that could be taken in the big ring – but you had to be Mr. Big Watts (or not carrying the 10 extra pounds I am) for that.
We showed up 2 hrs early to give me plenty of time for race day reg. and bike assembly (post and wheels were off, since it rode in the trunk). Since the race organizers were still getting reg. up and running, I started in on the bike. “Crunch!” The first thing I did was strip my seat post collar threading! I had this Zen moment – no part of the bike is superflous – and then began to panic. No seatpost collar means no bike riding, and therefore NO RACING. I began introducing myself to people and pandering for spare parts. 45 min. go by before Paul (Team Dayton/Michelob Ultra), an older cat 3 dude, saves my bacon. He was the only guy with a spare seat post collar at the race, because really, who carrys an extra seat post collar? [NOTE: As of today, I now carry a spare in my tool box!] So with Paul’s collar, I register and get dressed with 25 min for a warm-up, plenty of time.
The cat 4’s rolled out a hair shy of 40 combatants as the road dried from the first t-storm cell. A rider from University of Cincinnatti was clearly itching to get off the front, and after my result at Hillsboro, I was daydreaming of winning solo out of a long break. Perhaps today would be my day? Cinci’s move went clear and teammates of the break riders started blocking. I decided (foolishly?) that this was therefore a serious enough move and bridged. The pack decided 3 was too many and soon pulled us back. A few miles later, Cinci went and took another rider with him. Shortly enough 3 teamates of those riders were on the front blocking. I decide again that this looked serious enough and bridged. Nobody came with (I sprinted hard out of the first 5 wheels, setting a new 1 sec and 5 sec power PR), and proceeded straight to the front to take a pull. We had a decent gap going into the ½ mile climb, but it looked long and steep so I decide to shift into the little ring..and droped my chain. The 15 seconds in hand were soon gone as I was stopped on the roadside and the pack flew by to the tune of my cursing. I was only angry with myself for being so stupid. I know how to shift even on a climb, and I was being stupid. I then began to chase, and caught the pack in the next 3 (4?) miles. That chase, from a dead stop on that 10% grade was ZERO fun. I knew I was burning energy for stupidity, energy I would need in a breakaway for some solo win which was getting further and further from happening.
Once I caught on I sat in for a while before moving back up into the top 15 wheels. Several riders commented on my reappearing act. It seems that after being aggressive early on the front, getting dropped with a mechanical, and catching back on, I was now a marked man. Perhaps it was my bright red aero booties that tipped them off? Or was it the frame pump I forgot to remove before the race? I guess we’ll never know.
At this point I told myself to be patient and not get all Jens! out there. Needless to say, I was in at least 1 break per lap for the rest of the race. The only move I didn’t get to was the pair that rolled off the front on the last lap. (I had recently been reeled in. Again.) Those 2 stayed away, and though I later bridged to a pair behind them on the road, I was caught on the last hill by a few other riders. 4 of us crested the final climb together, and coming out of 4th position I took 4th overall (2nd from my bunch). What can I say, I was racing in the 4’s?! I definitely made a mistake going into the sprint, though. I was boxed in against the centerline (which the guy who took 3rd completely ignored), and was forced to slow-down and then re-accelerate around the other riders on the right side. I should have been smart enough to just open it up down the right side to begin with, but I waited. Glad it’s a training race and not O’Fallon!
Speaking of “training races,” my only complaint was the $32 day-of entry. A little steep, but hey, it’s their party. Regardless, I’d be happy to pay it if my next race report is about a cat 3 race!
The wife and I were in Ohio for a wedding, and the icing on the cake (pour moi) was the road race the next day. The Spring Valley RR was only 30 minutes outside of Dayton, a 9 mile loop, run 5 times (for the cat 4’s) with some small rollers, a little wind, a few turns, forecast of thunderstorms, and a ½ mile climb that could be taken in the big ring – but you had to be Mr. Big Watts (or not carrying the 10 extra pounds I am) for that.
We showed up 2 hrs early to give me plenty of time for race day reg. and bike assembly (post and wheels were off, since it rode in the trunk). Since the race organizers were still getting reg. up and running, I started in on the bike. “Crunch!” The first thing I did was strip my seat post collar threading! I had this Zen moment – no part of the bike is superflous – and then began to panic. No seatpost collar means no bike riding, and therefore NO RACING. I began introducing myself to people and pandering for spare parts. 45 min. go by before Paul (Team Dayton/Michelob Ultra), an older cat 3 dude, saves my bacon. He was the only guy with a spare seat post collar at the race, because really, who carrys an extra seat post collar? [NOTE: As of today, I now carry a spare in my tool box!] So with Paul’s collar, I register and get dressed with 25 min for a warm-up, plenty of time.
The cat 4’s rolled out a hair shy of 40 combatants as the road dried from the first t-storm cell. A rider from University of Cincinnatti was clearly itching to get off the front, and after my result at Hillsboro, I was daydreaming of winning solo out of a long break. Perhaps today would be my day? Cinci’s move went clear and teammates of the break riders started blocking. I decided (foolishly?) that this was therefore a serious enough move and bridged. The pack decided 3 was too many and soon pulled us back. A few miles later, Cinci went and took another rider with him. Shortly enough 3 teamates of those riders were on the front blocking. I decide again that this looked serious enough and bridged. Nobody came with (I sprinted hard out of the first 5 wheels, setting a new 1 sec and 5 sec power PR), and proceeded straight to the front to take a pull. We had a decent gap going into the ½ mile climb, but it looked long and steep so I decide to shift into the little ring..and droped my chain. The 15 seconds in hand were soon gone as I was stopped on the roadside and the pack flew by to the tune of my cursing. I was only angry with myself for being so stupid. I know how to shift even on a climb, and I was being stupid. I then began to chase, and caught the pack in the next 3 (4?) miles. That chase, from a dead stop on that 10% grade was ZERO fun. I knew I was burning energy for stupidity, energy I would need in a breakaway for some solo win which was getting further and further from happening.
Once I caught on I sat in for a while before moving back up into the top 15 wheels. Several riders commented on my reappearing act. It seems that after being aggressive early on the front, getting dropped with a mechanical, and catching back on, I was now a marked man. Perhaps it was my bright red aero booties that tipped them off? Or was it the frame pump I forgot to remove before the race? I guess we’ll never know.
At this point I told myself to be patient and not get all Jens! out there. Needless to say, I was in at least 1 break per lap for the rest of the race. The only move I didn’t get to was the pair that rolled off the front on the last lap. (I had recently been reeled in. Again.) Those 2 stayed away, and though I later bridged to a pair behind them on the road, I was caught on the last hill by a few other riders. 4 of us crested the final climb together, and coming out of 4th position I took 4th overall (2nd from my bunch). What can I say, I was racing in the 4’s?! I definitely made a mistake going into the sprint, though. I was boxed in against the centerline (which the guy who took 3rd completely ignored), and was forced to slow-down and then re-accelerate around the other riders on the right side. I should have been smart enough to just open it up down the right side to begin with, but I waited. Glad it’s a training race and not O’Fallon!
Speaking of “training races,” my only complaint was the $32 day-of entry. A little steep, but hey, it’s their party. Regardless, I’d be happy to pay it if my next race report is about a cat 3 race!
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Tour of Hermann
This weekend past was the Tour of Hermann in lovely Hermann, MO. You should go to Hermann, and I should go back. The people were nice, the hills were plentiful, the views picturesque, the B&B’s ubiquitous. Did I mention there are wineries every 5 miles? Besides the obvious “cycling destination” places I’ve ridden (Germany’s Rhine river valley; Tucson, AZ) Hermann is someplace I’d like to go back and train, race, or cyclotour.
The Tour of Hermann Omnium Stage Race had 3 stages: time trial, criterium, and road race, in that order. The TT and crit were on Saturday, with a nervous, recovery intensive overnight before the Sunday RR.
The TT
First, I hate TT’s. Steady state, solo, self regulated pain ain’t my bag, baby. If you want to torture yourself, go ahead. Me, I like the path of least resistance. I must say though that as I punish myself with interval training, TT’s are becoming a little more understandable, even acceptable. Even still, going into them I feel like Gandalf the Grey in that scene from “The Two Towers” LotR film, where Sauruman says: “You have chosen the way of PAIN!” Yeah, that’s pretty much what I picture before a TT.
The upshot of the TT’s is all the “bells and whistles” I borrowed from friends for the event. Larry graciously lent me his super pro Zipp 1080’s for the occasion, and Shunk lent me his carbon Easton clip on aero bars. I also acquired my own “go-fast” equipment in the way of a TT helmet, aero booties, and a short sleeve skinsuit.
I was not very organized for the TT (I’ve only done a couple) and my buffer of prep time soon slipped away. My warm-up, which I had hoped would be 30-45 minutes, was barely 15 on the trainer. And my powertap head unit battery decided to die on me at that moment. As I quickly rolled to the start, I was concerned about my brakes rubbing the braking surface of the wheels (I had shaved the pads down to avoid this and remove metal bits which would harm the borrowed carbon.) As I was called into the start order I realized I hadn’t pumped up my rear tire. I frantically ran to the mechanics station and filled it to 120psi. I checked the front at 115, NOT the 112/115 front/rear pressures Larry recommended for optimum performance. I then realized (as I was next in line for the start station) that I hadn’t put on my aero booties. I tossed them to the mechanic, and asked him to hold onto them till I came back. I jogged back in line, hopped up on the ramp, realizing that I was in the little ring, I shifted up, now with less than 20 seconds to start. I look down and I’m not in the right gear – my derailleur and chain are not lined up on the same cog – my first several pedal strokes will be wasted. I resign myself to start easy as the official counts down from ten. I look down at my Timex ironman watch, and realize it’s not there. I’m wearing my work watch, which although VERY nice is analog and not conducive to timing one’s splits.
GO!
As I roll down the ramp and push the pedals a huge “KLANK!” echoes in the morning stillness of Hermann. I’ve now found the right gear. How embarrassing. I pump it down the initial straight and then point to the right to the volunteer and begin my turn. He (and several spectators) yell(s): “LEFT!” I retort: “SH!T!” as I screech to a halt and turn around, and sprint in the correct direction. I hate TT’s.
At this point I tell myself not to blow up and curse TT’s as the stoopidest kind of bike racing. It wasn’t Frank Schleck or Michael Rasmussen TT bad, but it was bad. It can’t be that bad, right? Remember, borrowed 1080’s! At the 2 mile mark, it was that bad. A dude passed me. He started 30 seconds behind me, and no doubt my PERFECT start gave him some help in the task of passing me. He was a master’s racer, and I just told myself to hold him at 50 meters and that he was probably some super TT state champ type. The games we play. Soon I hit the turn, and after checking my brake pad clearance, accelerated back up to speed. Very soon I began passing folks. I think I passed between 5 and 7 people. Memory beyond threshold is questionable. I KNOW I passed 4, but I think it was more. This was my favorite part of the race as each person was a new target. I started saying things like “You’re mine!” as I rolled up (internal monologue, of course).
The TT ended with leg burning and heavy breathing and a 6th place finish in the Cat 4’s. My time over 11 miles was 27:19. Disappointing, but still nabbing Omnium points, and best on Wild Card.
Omnium points: 19.
The Crit
I like crits. They are my favorite type of bike racing. Fast, turny, accelerations, open aggression! I likes them a lot. However, the crits that have big hills each lap, not so much. Hermann was like that. Big BIG uphill (like 10mph at race pace), false flat, bomber downhill over crappy pavement (like 45mph coasting!), several 90 deg turns, and surprise surprise, BIG HILL again!
The group lined up with 50 guys and Mike Rickey of Wild Card St. Louis (the sister team of WCC) lined it out from the start, busting it the entire first lap, leading up the opening hill. Mike is an experienced racer who catted *down* recently after several years away. So he was testing his legs, and sadly, they didn’t answer. He was quite fatigued from training, and popped. I however felt ok and stayed in the top 10 through those first few laps. Soon enough the group was strung out and the selection had been made – 6 of us at the front and everybody else behind shattered into smaller groups.
We tested each other up the climb and saw who could handle a bike on the downhill and turns. Nobody was much interested in pulling through the wind-protected flats as that was the perfect time to rest before the kicker each lap.
It was in this section with 4 to go that Ian of BMC/Walmart (not that BMC, another BMC. But yes, that Walmart.) said adieu and rolled off the front of our group. He kept the heat on up the climb and soon had a 20 second gap. The rest of us looked around at each other as if to say: “why don’t you chase that down and haul our sorry butts up to him?!” He had chosen the perfect moment, when everyone was tired and not eager to chase. (Note to self: attack at this time in the future.)
Our group of five watched him and continued in our pattern of quick climbing, but not balls out, and two of us found ourselves regularly going around the rest on the downhill. Homeboy (I forgot his name!) was an unattached rider on a Lynskey Helix with Zipp 1080’s. (Yes, it was a 1080 weekend! EDIT: after looking at some race pics, they might be 808’s. Jury is still out.) He was the only dude who was faster than me on the descent. Noted. Though he had a PRO setup, I had something better, a little tip from Dave Stone on the climb. You know that false flat after the hill? Yeah, save a little for it, and drop fools there. Well, I exercised that and started testing the breakmates there. Sure enough, they were gassed after the climb and started getting gapped on the teasers through the false flat. On the last lap I knew what I had to do, I ramped it up on the false flat, stringing out our group. I bombed the downhill, pedalling it for the first time during the race. Fla-hi-ing. Homeboy passed me and I locked on his wheel. He towed me through the first 2 turns as I told him we had a gap (which we did). I jumped him on the inside of the 3rd to last turn, kept the gas on through the last 2 turns and started the climb with several seconds in hand. 1/3 of the way up the hill I look back and a slighter guy is gaining ground on me. His name is Walker, and he rides for Michelob/Big Shark out of St. Louis. Darn climbers! His teamates (from other catagories) start cheering for him. I hear the announcer congratulating Ian for winning (by 8 seconds!) and begin commentating our duel for the rest of the podium spots. I decide I will NOT cede a spot to this guy. I glance down and see 750 watts sustained on the power tap. Keep the cadence up, I think, and throw the bike at the line. I had him by at least a bike length. So I wound up with second place in the crit, and my last lap attack produced the fastest lap time of the cat 4 race (Hooray chip timing ego boosts!) of 3:15. (FWIW, the fastest P/1/2 lap time was 2:59!! Smokin! Cat 3’s were a little more realistic with 3:09, if memory serves.)
Omnium points: 31. Total: 50 (Leader, Ian: 57)
Intermission
Saturday had been tumultuous and I now needed rest. Scott and I grabbed food with the St. Louis crew (talking training the WHOLE time – Nick’s poor wife!) and then drove the RR course. The hills scared me. Could I hang on with these guys through ALL these rollers? I mean, they didn’t seem to end. Up and down and up and up and up. I was starting to think about how it had already been a good weekend, and two top tens was great, don’t get greedy, etc. Scott and I discussed the road conditions (90% of it was great, with a few potholes being the exception) along with tactics as I nodded off a few times. I don’t think he noticed though. We drove back to his folks house in western St. Louis and got to bed early.
The Road Race
Would I have the legs? That was the question du jour. I honestly didn’t know. I had a decent night’s sleep and I did all the recovery tricks I know of (aside from spending the night drunk/applying testosterone patches, Floyd). I got up early and had a light breakfast, and got my kit ready. Pinning the numbers on in the car, I was determined to have a better warm-up than the TT!
We arrived 2 hours before the race and I went to work on the leaderboard writing down anybody within possible striking distance of my omnium position. It was here that I struck up a very fortitous conversation with Steve, the injured P/1/2 rider from the Tyson U23 team. It started with Steve’s PRO Cervelo SLC-SL w/ SRAM Red and Zipp 404’s. Yes, a PRO bike. I was staring. And drooling. He let me ride it, and although he had MEGA seat-to-handlebar drop (PRO!) it was a pretty good fit for me. Hmmm…. We talked about our races thus far and he asked me how I was going in the GC. When he heard I was in second place, he took a personal interest in the situation, as he had been in second, while a cat 4, going into the last stage of the Joe Martin Stage Race in AR several years prior. (For the record, he pulled out the V in the stage and the overall!) He counseled me to have Nick Hand (WCCStL), my teamate, mark the guy behind me on GC and I would mark the top guy. He then gave me some confidence by sharing that “after the KOM, if you come over the top solo, go for the win in a solo break if the pack is 10 guys or less. Go for it, you can hold off 10 guys. 20 guys will reel you in, but 10 or less, you can do it!” While I favored a sprint, I agreed and bouyed by his words I wrote down the bib numbers of the marks on my wrist, ready to spread the strategy to the boys and prep the bikes.
The 30 mile RR started with a 1 mile neutral start through town. That quickly ended and a HUGE, 3 tiered hill greeted us. Heart rate went up like a rocket as I was on Ian’s (Omnium leader by 7 points) wheel like white on rice. I noticed he spun faster than me on the climbs, but no matter, I’m not Lance – 90 rpm would do. Mixing it up between saddle and standing, I got myself over the top in the first 5 wheels. It was intense. Like a circus. Every time I looked at the powertap it said something above 400watts. I haven’t analyzed the data yet, but it was serious climbing. We then hit the biggest downhill of the race, and the only one that might have asked for a touch of the brakes. I decided the best place was off the front and allowed my fat, tucked body to roll off the front and hold an inside line. I even got down into the PRO italian descender position with hands together on the tops, knees together, nose on the stem, and butt low. I was flying. After a little while I looked back and I had a big gap, but it was too early for an attack to last so I climbed easily until back on Ian’s wheel.
The group was mainly intact through this stretch, and Mark (South Chicago Wheelmen) took a flyer and had a decent gap, but we would reel him in little by little on the climbs, so we didn’t worry too much.
During this time I felt pretty good. My confidence was soaring. I looked around and all the top GC guys were together at the front. I felt like I was one of the “Heads of State” in the Tour de France, as the top dogs take the climbs at the front and test each other while trying to look relaxed. “What? This Cat 1 climb, it is, how you say, nah-zing.” The height of the machismo was while riding next to Ian, about 5th wheel on a climb, he decided to take a drink. Now, you don’t take your hands off the bars while climbing, it’s inefficient, and the climb is tougher as a result. But not to be out-done I did the same. “This is easy,” I tried to exude.
Every once in a while someone would roll off the front and Ian tried to bridge to them and I think, test my legs. During these times I was determined to prove I had legs. Instant gap closing sprint. I even took a few digs myself but either the bunch would chase or Ian would come across and I would sit up. A rider from Momentum Racing named Nick paid me the complement of saying “Frenchy, you’ve got a target on your back today, man.” I’m not gonna lie, that was better than Hammer Gel.
My scheming continued through the rollers and a few opportunities presented themselves that almost changed the race. On one climb, while riding next to Ian, I watched him drop his chain. “ATTACK ATTACK!” surged through my little brain. I didn’t wish him ill, but if an opportunity presents itself, why not? I watched as he got it back on with some quick shifting, and the moment was gone. On another occasion, BJ (Momentum Racing, who took 3rd at Hillsboro in the 4’s) had a small gap through a roller and was leading us up over a hill. His teamate (Nick, who made the comment earlier) charged up the grade to get on his wheel. Meanwhile I notice Ian drifting back on the right side of the road. “ATTACK ATTACK!” I jump on the gear and grab Nick’s wheel shouting “There’s 2 of you and 1 of me, we have a gap! GOOO!” They held a steady pace. Soon enough, here comes Ian charging across with the peleton in tow. And so it was that the group stayed intact as we marked each other and the miles wound down.
I was getting apprehensive as the KOM drew near. It was at about this time that Nick (WCCStL) and Mike (WCCStL) came to the front, flanking Ian and I. The contrast of their dark jerseys blazed in my periforal vision. I was Air Force One with full fighter escort off the wings. People were getting nervous. The St. Louis teams had witnessed the Wild Card teamwork at Hillsboro the week before when I forged the race winning break. Some dudes told me they still remembered the cat. 5 Hillsboro “carpet bombing” we laid down 2 years prior which resulted in a 1-2 placing for the team. Regardless, at the KOM a little flag and line awaited a man with 2 Omnium points. I did NOT want to be 9 points down to Ian going into the finish. What if he did have a sprint? Fortunately, Homeboy was on a 2 mile flyer and he looked secure up the road to take the KOM bonus points. The group began to surge on the lower slopes and I stayed on Ian’s wheel. Open aggression hadn’t started – no ‘Berto like accelerations, just a ramping up of the pace. Seeing guys digging for the KOM 2nd place (and single bonus point) ahead of Ian, I sagged just a hair and crested top 15.
The adrenaline was flowing. You could smell it waft from the pack. 35+mph on the decent and a big selection (30?) was rolling into the finish. Can you say bunch sprint? Guys were getting twitching. I shouted the cliché – “Easy boys! You can’t win it here, but you can loose it.” I was following wheels to stay near the front, but out of the wind. I found BJ’s wheel, then a St. John’s Mercy Hospital rider, and so on. “Conserve,” I thought. “Keep an eye on Ian. Stay near the front.” The bunch was doing the rolling boil at the front as everyone jockeyed for position. Suddenly, streaking up the right side was Ian, and we were just inside 1 Kilometer. I look again and Nick Hand (WCCStL) is all over his rear wheel. I know this is my chance, if the leadout is going to happen, I need to be on the other side of the peleton. I drop the hammer and fly ahead, out into the wind, from the left side (I did NOT cross the centerline, BTW.) and swung across the front of the peleton to snatch the draft behind Nick. Textbook. I don’t think anyone was on his wheel, or perhaps Mike Rickey (WCCStL) opened a gap for me. Either way, I was ready to get argy-bargy with anyone on that wheel. Elbows out and all that.
The finish was a tough little chicane – 90deg left, ½ block and a 90deg slightly off-camber right, and finally a 90deg left with 75 meters to the line. The finishing straight was so short, you really wanted to be first or second around the final turn. Ideal position going into the chicane would be 3rd or 4th wheel in a leadout train. Nick, Mike, and I discussed our sprint tactics before the race: Nick and Mike would drop me off at the final turn after sprinting their hearts out. Nick, after escorting me to the drop off, would take the inside line and sit up, blocking anyone trying to come around me on the inside. I would stand and power through the turn and, hopefully, win the day.
Sitting 3rd wheel into the first turn I almost watched our plans fall apart. The pace car for our race was (nearly? Fully?) stopped before the right hand bender. Brakes squeal, yelling – no, SCREAMING - ensued. Ian and I brake hard. The pack swarms us and Nick tries to go wide - AROUND the far side of the pace car – a VERY dangerous move. The pace car peels out. Two guys pass me on the right after the turn and I try to grab a wheel. Nick opens up his sprint, full on Grand Tour stage bike rocking sprint action. I loose Ian from sight. Into the last corner, Nick sits up on the inside line, Rock (The Hub Racing) is first around the bend and opens up his sprint, I follow a GP Velotek rider and kick it, passing him on the right with a bike throw, maybe by ½ a wheel. 2nd in the RR. I already knew Velotek finished 3rd. I had won the Omnium. Fist pumps and shouts.
Omnium points: 31. Total: 81, and the overall victory.
Epilogue
As of this writing I’m preparing my cat. 3 upgrade request. May the paperwork flow quickly. I feel this race affirms my desire to race at the next level.
The boys laid it on the line for me in the road race, and to them I am grateful. I hope they will be up for racing for me again someday – I know I owe them a leadout or two in the meantime. The team function was impressive and the envy of the other squads – and that with guys I don’t see more than quarterly.
As I mentioned above, thanks are due to several people, including Larry for loaning me some PRO wheels (I “need” a pair for mass starts!), Dan for the TT bars, Scott for driving and his folks for putting me up for the weekend, Steve L. for the race tactics, The Stone Poney for giving me tips and his spare power tap head unit battery, and my wife for letting me play bikes all weekend long.
The Tour of Hermann Omnium Stage Race had 3 stages: time trial, criterium, and road race, in that order. The TT and crit were on Saturday, with a nervous, recovery intensive overnight before the Sunday RR.
The TT
First, I hate TT’s. Steady state, solo, self regulated pain ain’t my bag, baby. If you want to torture yourself, go ahead. Me, I like the path of least resistance. I must say though that as I punish myself with interval training, TT’s are becoming a little more understandable, even acceptable. Even still, going into them I feel like Gandalf the Grey in that scene from “The Two Towers” LotR film, where Sauruman says: “You have chosen the way of PAIN!” Yeah, that’s pretty much what I picture before a TT.
The upshot of the TT’s is all the “bells and whistles” I borrowed from friends for the event. Larry graciously lent me his super pro Zipp 1080’s for the occasion, and Shunk lent me his carbon Easton clip on aero bars. I also acquired my own “go-fast” equipment in the way of a TT helmet, aero booties, and a short sleeve skinsuit.
I was not very organized for the TT (I’ve only done a couple) and my buffer of prep time soon slipped away. My warm-up, which I had hoped would be 30-45 minutes, was barely 15 on the trainer. And my powertap head unit battery decided to die on me at that moment. As I quickly rolled to the start, I was concerned about my brakes rubbing the braking surface of the wheels (I had shaved the pads down to avoid this and remove metal bits which would harm the borrowed carbon.) As I was called into the start order I realized I hadn’t pumped up my rear tire. I frantically ran to the mechanics station and filled it to 120psi. I checked the front at 115, NOT the 112/115 front/rear pressures Larry recommended for optimum performance. I then realized (as I was next in line for the start station) that I hadn’t put on my aero booties. I tossed them to the mechanic, and asked him to hold onto them till I came back. I jogged back in line, hopped up on the ramp, realizing that I was in the little ring, I shifted up, now with less than 20 seconds to start. I look down and I’m not in the right gear – my derailleur and chain are not lined up on the same cog – my first several pedal strokes will be wasted. I resign myself to start easy as the official counts down from ten. I look down at my Timex ironman watch, and realize it’s not there. I’m wearing my work watch, which although VERY nice is analog and not conducive to timing one’s splits.
GO!
As I roll down the ramp and push the pedals a huge “KLANK!” echoes in the morning stillness of Hermann. I’ve now found the right gear. How embarrassing. I pump it down the initial straight and then point to the right to the volunteer and begin my turn. He (and several spectators) yell(s): “LEFT!” I retort: “SH!T!” as I screech to a halt and turn around, and sprint in the correct direction. I hate TT’s.
At this point I tell myself not to blow up and curse TT’s as the stoopidest kind of bike racing. It wasn’t Frank Schleck or Michael Rasmussen TT bad, but it was bad. It can’t be that bad, right? Remember, borrowed 1080’s! At the 2 mile mark, it was that bad. A dude passed me. He started 30 seconds behind me, and no doubt my PERFECT start gave him some help in the task of passing me. He was a master’s racer, and I just told myself to hold him at 50 meters and that he was probably some super TT state champ type. The games we play. Soon I hit the turn, and after checking my brake pad clearance, accelerated back up to speed. Very soon I began passing folks. I think I passed between 5 and 7 people. Memory beyond threshold is questionable. I KNOW I passed 4, but I think it was more. This was my favorite part of the race as each person was a new target. I started saying things like “You’re mine!” as I rolled up (internal monologue, of course).
The TT ended with leg burning and heavy breathing and a 6th place finish in the Cat 4’s. My time over 11 miles was 27:19. Disappointing, but still nabbing Omnium points, and best on Wild Card.
Omnium points: 19.
The Crit
I like crits. They are my favorite type of bike racing. Fast, turny, accelerations, open aggression! I likes them a lot. However, the crits that have big hills each lap, not so much. Hermann was like that. Big BIG uphill (like 10mph at race pace), false flat, bomber downhill over crappy pavement (like 45mph coasting!), several 90 deg turns, and surprise surprise, BIG HILL again!
The group lined up with 50 guys and Mike Rickey of Wild Card St. Louis (the sister team of WCC) lined it out from the start, busting it the entire first lap, leading up the opening hill. Mike is an experienced racer who catted *down* recently after several years away. So he was testing his legs, and sadly, they didn’t answer. He was quite fatigued from training, and popped. I however felt ok and stayed in the top 10 through those first few laps. Soon enough the group was strung out and the selection had been made – 6 of us at the front and everybody else behind shattered into smaller groups.
We tested each other up the climb and saw who could handle a bike on the downhill and turns. Nobody was much interested in pulling through the wind-protected flats as that was the perfect time to rest before the kicker each lap.
It was in this section with 4 to go that Ian of BMC/Walmart (not that BMC, another BMC. But yes, that Walmart.) said adieu and rolled off the front of our group. He kept the heat on up the climb and soon had a 20 second gap. The rest of us looked around at each other as if to say: “why don’t you chase that down and haul our sorry butts up to him?!” He had chosen the perfect moment, when everyone was tired and not eager to chase. (Note to self: attack at this time in the future.)
Our group of five watched him and continued in our pattern of quick climbing, but not balls out, and two of us found ourselves regularly going around the rest on the downhill. Homeboy (I forgot his name!) was an unattached rider on a Lynskey Helix with Zipp 1080’s. (Yes, it was a 1080 weekend! EDIT: after looking at some race pics, they might be 808’s. Jury is still out.) He was the only dude who was faster than me on the descent. Noted. Though he had a PRO setup, I had something better, a little tip from Dave Stone on the climb. You know that false flat after the hill? Yeah, save a little for it, and drop fools there. Well, I exercised that and started testing the breakmates there. Sure enough, they were gassed after the climb and started getting gapped on the teasers through the false flat. On the last lap I knew what I had to do, I ramped it up on the false flat, stringing out our group. I bombed the downhill, pedalling it for the first time during the race. Fla-hi-ing. Homeboy passed me and I locked on his wheel. He towed me through the first 2 turns as I told him we had a gap (which we did). I jumped him on the inside of the 3rd to last turn, kept the gas on through the last 2 turns and started the climb with several seconds in hand. 1/3 of the way up the hill I look back and a slighter guy is gaining ground on me. His name is Walker, and he rides for Michelob/Big Shark out of St. Louis. Darn climbers! His teamates (from other catagories) start cheering for him. I hear the announcer congratulating Ian for winning (by 8 seconds!) and begin commentating our duel for the rest of the podium spots. I decide I will NOT cede a spot to this guy. I glance down and see 750 watts sustained on the power tap. Keep the cadence up, I think, and throw the bike at the line. I had him by at least a bike length. So I wound up with second place in the crit, and my last lap attack produced the fastest lap time of the cat 4 race (Hooray chip timing ego boosts!) of 3:15. (FWIW, the fastest P/1/2 lap time was 2:59!! Smokin! Cat 3’s were a little more realistic with 3:09, if memory serves.)
Omnium points: 31. Total: 50 (Leader, Ian: 57)
Intermission
Saturday had been tumultuous and I now needed rest. Scott and I grabbed food with the St. Louis crew (talking training the WHOLE time – Nick’s poor wife!) and then drove the RR course. The hills scared me. Could I hang on with these guys through ALL these rollers? I mean, they didn’t seem to end. Up and down and up and up and up. I was starting to think about how it had already been a good weekend, and two top tens was great, don’t get greedy, etc. Scott and I discussed the road conditions (90% of it was great, with a few potholes being the exception) along with tactics as I nodded off a few times. I don’t think he noticed though. We drove back to his folks house in western St. Louis and got to bed early.
The Road Race
Would I have the legs? That was the question du jour. I honestly didn’t know. I had a decent night’s sleep and I did all the recovery tricks I know of (aside from spending the night drunk/applying testosterone patches, Floyd). I got up early and had a light breakfast, and got my kit ready. Pinning the numbers on in the car, I was determined to have a better warm-up than the TT!
We arrived 2 hours before the race and I went to work on the leaderboard writing down anybody within possible striking distance of my omnium position. It was here that I struck up a very fortitous conversation with Steve, the injured P/1/2 rider from the Tyson U23 team. It started with Steve’s PRO Cervelo SLC-SL w/ SRAM Red and Zipp 404’s. Yes, a PRO bike. I was staring. And drooling. He let me ride it, and although he had MEGA seat-to-handlebar drop (PRO!) it was a pretty good fit for me. Hmmm…. We talked about our races thus far and he asked me how I was going in the GC. When he heard I was in second place, he took a personal interest in the situation, as he had been in second, while a cat 4, going into the last stage of the Joe Martin Stage Race in AR several years prior. (For the record, he pulled out the V in the stage and the overall!) He counseled me to have Nick Hand (WCCStL), my teamate, mark the guy behind me on GC and I would mark the top guy. He then gave me some confidence by sharing that “after the KOM, if you come over the top solo, go for the win in a solo break if the pack is 10 guys or less. Go for it, you can hold off 10 guys. 20 guys will reel you in, but 10 or less, you can do it!” While I favored a sprint, I agreed and bouyed by his words I wrote down the bib numbers of the marks on my wrist, ready to spread the strategy to the boys and prep the bikes.
The 30 mile RR started with a 1 mile neutral start through town. That quickly ended and a HUGE, 3 tiered hill greeted us. Heart rate went up like a rocket as I was on Ian’s (Omnium leader by 7 points) wheel like white on rice. I noticed he spun faster than me on the climbs, but no matter, I’m not Lance – 90 rpm would do. Mixing it up between saddle and standing, I got myself over the top in the first 5 wheels. It was intense. Like a circus. Every time I looked at the powertap it said something above 400watts. I haven’t analyzed the data yet, but it was serious climbing. We then hit the biggest downhill of the race, and the only one that might have asked for a touch of the brakes. I decided the best place was off the front and allowed my fat, tucked body to roll off the front and hold an inside line. I even got down into the PRO italian descender position with hands together on the tops, knees together, nose on the stem, and butt low. I was flying. After a little while I looked back and I had a big gap, but it was too early for an attack to last so I climbed easily until back on Ian’s wheel.
The group was mainly intact through this stretch, and Mark (South Chicago Wheelmen) took a flyer and had a decent gap, but we would reel him in little by little on the climbs, so we didn’t worry too much.
During this time I felt pretty good. My confidence was soaring. I looked around and all the top GC guys were together at the front. I felt like I was one of the “Heads of State” in the Tour de France, as the top dogs take the climbs at the front and test each other while trying to look relaxed. “What? This Cat 1 climb, it is, how you say, nah-zing.” The height of the machismo was while riding next to Ian, about 5th wheel on a climb, he decided to take a drink. Now, you don’t take your hands off the bars while climbing, it’s inefficient, and the climb is tougher as a result. But not to be out-done I did the same. “This is easy,” I tried to exude.
Every once in a while someone would roll off the front and Ian tried to bridge to them and I think, test my legs. During these times I was determined to prove I had legs. Instant gap closing sprint. I even took a few digs myself but either the bunch would chase or Ian would come across and I would sit up. A rider from Momentum Racing named Nick paid me the complement of saying “Frenchy, you’ve got a target on your back today, man.” I’m not gonna lie, that was better than Hammer Gel.
My scheming continued through the rollers and a few opportunities presented themselves that almost changed the race. On one climb, while riding next to Ian, I watched him drop his chain. “ATTACK ATTACK!” surged through my little brain. I didn’t wish him ill, but if an opportunity presents itself, why not? I watched as he got it back on with some quick shifting, and the moment was gone. On another occasion, BJ (Momentum Racing, who took 3rd at Hillsboro in the 4’s) had a small gap through a roller and was leading us up over a hill. His teamate (Nick, who made the comment earlier) charged up the grade to get on his wheel. Meanwhile I notice Ian drifting back on the right side of the road. “ATTACK ATTACK!” I jump on the gear and grab Nick’s wheel shouting “There’s 2 of you and 1 of me, we have a gap! GOOO!” They held a steady pace. Soon enough, here comes Ian charging across with the peleton in tow. And so it was that the group stayed intact as we marked each other and the miles wound down.
I was getting apprehensive as the KOM drew near. It was at about this time that Nick (WCCStL) and Mike (WCCStL) came to the front, flanking Ian and I. The contrast of their dark jerseys blazed in my periforal vision. I was Air Force One with full fighter escort off the wings. People were getting nervous. The St. Louis teams had witnessed the Wild Card teamwork at Hillsboro the week before when I forged the race winning break. Some dudes told me they still remembered the cat. 5 Hillsboro “carpet bombing” we laid down 2 years prior which resulted in a 1-2 placing for the team. Regardless, at the KOM a little flag and line awaited a man with 2 Omnium points. I did NOT want to be 9 points down to Ian going into the finish. What if he did have a sprint? Fortunately, Homeboy was on a 2 mile flyer and he looked secure up the road to take the KOM bonus points. The group began to surge on the lower slopes and I stayed on Ian’s wheel. Open aggression hadn’t started – no ‘Berto like accelerations, just a ramping up of the pace. Seeing guys digging for the KOM 2nd place (and single bonus point) ahead of Ian, I sagged just a hair and crested top 15.
The adrenaline was flowing. You could smell it waft from the pack. 35+mph on the decent and a big selection (30?) was rolling into the finish. Can you say bunch sprint? Guys were getting twitching. I shouted the cliché – “Easy boys! You can’t win it here, but you can loose it.” I was following wheels to stay near the front, but out of the wind. I found BJ’s wheel, then a St. John’s Mercy Hospital rider, and so on. “Conserve,” I thought. “Keep an eye on Ian. Stay near the front.” The bunch was doing the rolling boil at the front as everyone jockeyed for position. Suddenly, streaking up the right side was Ian, and we were just inside 1 Kilometer. I look again and Nick Hand (WCCStL) is all over his rear wheel. I know this is my chance, if the leadout is going to happen, I need to be on the other side of the peleton. I drop the hammer and fly ahead, out into the wind, from the left side (I did NOT cross the centerline, BTW.) and swung across the front of the peleton to snatch the draft behind Nick. Textbook. I don’t think anyone was on his wheel, or perhaps Mike Rickey (WCCStL) opened a gap for me. Either way, I was ready to get argy-bargy with anyone on that wheel. Elbows out and all that.
The finish was a tough little chicane – 90deg left, ½ block and a 90deg slightly off-camber right, and finally a 90deg left with 75 meters to the line. The finishing straight was so short, you really wanted to be first or second around the final turn. Ideal position going into the chicane would be 3rd or 4th wheel in a leadout train. Nick, Mike, and I discussed our sprint tactics before the race: Nick and Mike would drop me off at the final turn after sprinting their hearts out. Nick, after escorting me to the drop off, would take the inside line and sit up, blocking anyone trying to come around me on the inside. I would stand and power through the turn and, hopefully, win the day.
Sitting 3rd wheel into the first turn I almost watched our plans fall apart. The pace car for our race was (nearly? Fully?) stopped before the right hand bender. Brakes squeal, yelling – no, SCREAMING - ensued. Ian and I brake hard. The pack swarms us and Nick tries to go wide - AROUND the far side of the pace car – a VERY dangerous move. The pace car peels out. Two guys pass me on the right after the turn and I try to grab a wheel. Nick opens up his sprint, full on Grand Tour stage bike rocking sprint action. I loose Ian from sight. Into the last corner, Nick sits up on the inside line, Rock (The Hub Racing) is first around the bend and opens up his sprint, I follow a GP Velotek rider and kick it, passing him on the right with a bike throw, maybe by ½ a wheel. 2nd in the RR. I already knew Velotek finished 3rd. I had won the Omnium. Fist pumps and shouts.
Omnium points: 31. Total: 81, and the overall victory.
Epilogue
As of this writing I’m preparing my cat. 3 upgrade request. May the paperwork flow quickly. I feel this race affirms my desire to race at the next level.
The boys laid it on the line for me in the road race, and to them I am grateful. I hope they will be up for racing for me again someday – I know I owe them a leadout or two in the meantime. The team function was impressive and the envy of the other squads – and that with guys I don’t see more than quarterly.
As I mentioned above, thanks are due to several people, including Larry for loaning me some PRO wheels (I “need” a pair for mass starts!), Dan for the TT bars, Scott for driving and his folks for putting me up for the weekend, Steve L. for the race tactics, The Stone Poney for giving me tips and his spare power tap head unit battery, and my wife for letting me play bikes all weekend long.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Hillsboro (or 58 Miles is enough to find your weaknesses)
58 Miles is Enough to Find Weakness
Provenance:
Hillsboro is a hard race. For the last 2 seasons (as long as I've been racing), it's been my worst finish each year. May it be so this year.
Prologue:
Larry, the Patron, drove his race wagon down with 5 of us scheming and snacking for 2 hours. It was a fun time and part of what makes racing on a team enjoyable.
The conditions were very nice, with temps in the 70's and a 10+ mph wind out of the south.
The course was elongated from the previous year, adding about 6 miles per lap. The 4's race then, at 2 laps and 58 miles, is by far the longest race of the season for me. This will come into play below.
The Field:
120 guys. Wow. It was the biggest field I've raced in. XXX lined up with 16 or so guys. Unfortunately all the XXX guys I know are 3's now, and these boys were not at thier level (yet). The usual Chicago based teams were there (Tati, Beverly, Cuttin Crew, Psimet, etc). I don't really know the St. Louis based teams but they had to have been there to get 120 cat 4's.
We had 6 guys toeing the line for Wild Card: Razzle Dazzle (in white shorts no less!), Tom, Sweet Pea, Ragfield, Luke, and myself. Dazzle and Tom were rolling well last week and after a team vote, they'd be protected riders. Luke, Sweet P, and I would chase breaks and initiate moves on the second lap. Ragfield would babysit and leadout.
The Plan:
With the crosswinds and narrow roads shaping the race, we decided to give it some gas as a team after the first climb, thereby giving us about a mile till the first turn, into a tailwind section. If we could safely get through that tailwind/roller section, we would evaluate the damage after the next turn, in a tree protected crosswind. If we had a gap, TTT time. (That would be TTTT, I suppose.) If the bunch was together, we would stay to the front, protect the protected ones, and on the second lap start relay attacking. If that didn't work, we would line it out about 4 miles out and let the protected riders duke it out with whomever was left.
The Race:
[Caution, pedal stroke by pedal stroke commentary. You shouldn't care enough to read this, but here you are.]
We rode according to plan, getting a second row start position, and staying in the top 20 wheels as a team for the first couple of miles. We pushed the pace through the crosswind section after the first hill, per our plan, and then kept it hot during the tailwind section. As we turned the corner, I swung wide and looked back to see a VERY long line of riders. We had not split the group. Or if we had it was only momentarily. I had definitely burned a match during this time, so I was glad we relinquished the front and kept ourselves near the pointy end, should crosswinds come into play.
With frequent peeks over my shoulder I knew the protected riders were in good position. Although, at one point, we looked around and didn't see Razzle Dazzle. After querying the boys, nobody knew where he was. I asked Sweet Pea to drop back, find him, and tow him up. I was very glad to see him do just that. At that moment I decided I would work for that kid in a race this season. If he's willing to do what the "road captains" say, bravo boy. You've earned my respect.
The rest of the first lap was uneventful in this way, no serious moves rolled off the front and though I had to work to do so, I stayed in the top 10 wheels. I was very relieved when we came into the penultimate climb for the lap, which was "neutral" for the feed. I was feeling the effort of the climb, and I expected the pace to stay high through the zone. My thinking was: no "attacking" but my tempo doesn't have to be slow! However, everyone around me took it down a notch. Whew. Being the fat kid I am, I was glad to not climb at race pace. Things ramped up on the next hill however, but I was close enough to the front, and worked hard enough, I crossed the start finish (yay, just 29 miles to go!) in fourth position. This is in marked contrast to last year when I was suffering terribly at this point, and got dropped from the group 2 miles later.
Per our team plan, Luke attacked in the first crosswind section after the turn. However everyone was thinking the same thing: "it's lap 2, don't let anyone go." Furthermore, Luke had demonstrated during the first lap shake-down that he could hold a high pace at the front. Maybe it was the aero-booties that tipped them off. Regardless, the group surged and caught him. The pre-race plan said that Sweet Pea would attack next, but as I looked around from 10th wheel, I didn't see him. I didn't feel great but I knew I had to counter-attack to make Luke's attack worthwhile. Such are the indellible laws of cycling: you always counter your team's marked moves! So I jumped hard, and we happened to be starting the first hill out of town. The effort was the same as a jump for a townline sprint, and as I gasped for breath I looked back to see if anybody came with me. I was crushed to see I was by myself but with a decent gap (100 meters?). I had a moment where I considered slinking back to the pack. In that moment I actually thought of other riders laughing at me, as I just burned a match in vain. Vain is the key word, as I'm such an approval junkie that I was actually thinking of how I'd be welcomed into the peloton. I turned back to the crest of the hill and crosswind, and began to stomp out a rythm. If they wanted me, they'd have to work to get me.
Well, somebody wanted to join the party, as soon enough a shorter chap on a Scott in a red and blue kit (team/sponsor MEC?) rolled up beside me. We exchanged no words, just pulls at about 18-20 mph. I could tell he wasn't feeling great as he would let it drop down to 17-18 mph, and I encouraged him to keep the pace high, relatively speaking. At around this time we must have looked convincing enough as a viable breakaway (I am shocked, really!) but 3 more guys (a big Tati rider on a Storck, a shorter guy from Psimet, and a taller guy from Momentum Racing) bridged up and we turned the corner into the tailwind section.
The Tati rider (John) helped the pace immediately and provided a better draft. We were talking at the front just before the turn and he almost missed it! With the tailwind I put down a long hard pull, thinking we should exagerate the gap as much as possible while the going was easy. (In retrospect, this might have been a mistake. I think it helped our gap on the field at that point, but perhaps I went too deep into the red as you'll soon read.) After my pull I went to the back, but 2 of the riders couldn't decide if they should get on the wheel or not. By the time I found a wheel, a gap had opened and we were chasing back on. My original break companion was dropped in this mix. It sure would have been nice to have another rider to share the load with. Soon after the turn the Momentum rider was dropped as well. I don't remember this specifically, but it was quickly just the three of us: John Whipple (Tati), Tim Speciale (Psimet) and your's truly (Wild Card).
John was driving the break and coaching us all the while: "keep it smooth guys, we need a steady pace; c'mon guys, we need to go faster - they're chasing back there!; let's keep it up, they're hurting too!" Not only was he taking longer pulls than Tim and I, he was giving us positive thoughts.
Tim at this point was swerving a little. It was clear he was digging deep. I was starting to have lower back pain followed by spasms. This is the same thing that happened to me 13 miles into my first road race and at Hillsboro last year. It is my weakness. I came off the back of the group twice and the guys waited for me. That's right, my competitors waited for me in the break. I couldn't believe these guys. Then again, another body to block the wind is priceless when you're on the rivet late in the race, so it wasn't altruism. I took it as a class jesture though, and thanked them when I rejoined, saying: "If I'm at the finish, I won't contest the sprint." And in saying this I resigned myself to 3rd place - or worse.
Perhaps this was my undoing as soon my back attacked me again and I fell off the pace. Into the headwind I pushed, stretched, and worked some more. I watched as John and Tim rode away. They soon realized my absence (after John had taken yet another 3 min. pull) and as I found out afterwards, they considered waiting YET AGAIN, but didn't. I can't blame them, I'm just frustrated with myself that I couldn't push that last percent to maintain contact. In the hours since I linger on the thought that I gave up and called it quits. Did I? Did I have more and just say: "This isn't worth it?" At some level I have to admit that I did. I was measured in that moment and found wanting - I didn't have it. Whether it was the core strength, the aerobic stamina, or the mental durability, or all three - I didn't have it. This is eating at me. Was it because I no longer had my sights on first place? Who get's motivated to race for third?
I continued on at a pace that allowed some recovery but kept me rolling. As I looked back I saw the peloton get closer and bigger. Despite this, the startling thing was how small it had become actually. Trimmed down from the same wind and hills that had wracked me, the chase group was less than 30 strong.
I started waving at the group in hopes that my team would recognize my colors and initiate the chase (rather than continue blocking) but it was not the case. Luke greeted me with: "I blew myself up blocking for you!" And that was it. Not only had I failed myself, I had burned my teamates up. Like a town drunk I began ranting about how John was the only one doing work in the break and his teamate is softpedaling on the front, and he's only 1 minute up the road. Nobody upped the pace, they were content to sit in, they were racing for third. Could I blame them?
Sweet Pea had popped a tire soon after I attacked (18-22 miles ago) and Rob had popped physically during the course of the race. Tom and Razzle looked good, aparently still waiting to pounce.
If there was a time to kick off the chase, it was then, while there was still time I assumed, so I went to the front. As I came up the right side I heard someone say: "He's blown." No matter, I thought, I'll give what I've got since Tati is doing his job of blocking. In the Druber style I took a glory pull. The pace went up and when I flicked the elbow, Tati pulled through with a big grin and the pace wound down at the base of a small hill. On that knoll I popped again and sat up for the remainder of the race, finishing in 30th place. Which, out of 120 isn't so bad. But oh, what could have been.
Epilogue:
As a team we worked very well the first lap and great until I was caught on the second lap. No doubt the blocking that Wild Card and Tati foisted upon the bunch allowed such a large gap for the breakaway. We still have some work to do in communicating position (so as to avoid my near-constant rearward glancing), and I need to have a lot more sense about what kind of pulling to do both early and late in the race.
Razzle Dazzle managed a sixth place finish, and Tom rolled in 11th. The pace was hot up the final hills I'm told, and the remaining bunch was properly shattered. I'm happy I could work for team-mates and in the process have a go at the podium myself. The thing that is most startling is that Frenchy, the fat sprinter type, had a viable shot in a long, hilly, road race - his weak event. Next time guys! Next time!
Larry continued to sheppard us while listening to our whining and showered us with encouragement as he packed up our bikes and shewed us towards recovery drinks.
My big consolation is the faith that once given enough recovery, hard efforts only make you stronger. To that end I smile, and look forward to the Tour of Hermann.
Provenance:
Hillsboro is a hard race. For the last 2 seasons (as long as I've been racing), it's been my worst finish each year. May it be so this year.
Prologue:
Larry, the Patron, drove his race wagon down with 5 of us scheming and snacking for 2 hours. It was a fun time and part of what makes racing on a team enjoyable.
The conditions were very nice, with temps in the 70's and a 10+ mph wind out of the south.
The course was elongated from the previous year, adding about 6 miles per lap. The 4's race then, at 2 laps and 58 miles, is by far the longest race of the season for me. This will come into play below.
The Field:
120 guys. Wow. It was the biggest field I've raced in. XXX lined up with 16 or so guys. Unfortunately all the XXX guys I know are 3's now, and these boys were not at thier level (yet). The usual Chicago based teams were there (Tati, Beverly, Cuttin Crew, Psimet, etc). I don't really know the St. Louis based teams but they had to have been there to get 120 cat 4's.
We had 6 guys toeing the line for Wild Card: Razzle Dazzle (in white shorts no less!), Tom, Sweet Pea, Ragfield, Luke, and myself. Dazzle and Tom were rolling well last week and after a team vote, they'd be protected riders. Luke, Sweet P, and I would chase breaks and initiate moves on the second lap. Ragfield would babysit and leadout.
The Plan:
With the crosswinds and narrow roads shaping the race, we decided to give it some gas as a team after the first climb, thereby giving us about a mile till the first turn, into a tailwind section. If we could safely get through that tailwind/roller section, we would evaluate the damage after the next turn, in a tree protected crosswind. If we had a gap, TTT time. (That would be TTTT, I suppose.) If the bunch was together, we would stay to the front, protect the protected ones, and on the second lap start relay attacking. If that didn't work, we would line it out about 4 miles out and let the protected riders duke it out with whomever was left.
The Race:
[Caution, pedal stroke by pedal stroke commentary. You shouldn't care enough to read this, but here you are.]
We rode according to plan, getting a second row start position, and staying in the top 20 wheels as a team for the first couple of miles. We pushed the pace through the crosswind section after the first hill, per our plan, and then kept it hot during the tailwind section. As we turned the corner, I swung wide and looked back to see a VERY long line of riders. We had not split the group. Or if we had it was only momentarily. I had definitely burned a match during this time, so I was glad we relinquished the front and kept ourselves near the pointy end, should crosswinds come into play.
With frequent peeks over my shoulder I knew the protected riders were in good position. Although, at one point, we looked around and didn't see Razzle Dazzle. After querying the boys, nobody knew where he was. I asked Sweet Pea to drop back, find him, and tow him up. I was very glad to see him do just that. At that moment I decided I would work for that kid in a race this season. If he's willing to do what the "road captains" say, bravo boy. You've earned my respect.
The rest of the first lap was uneventful in this way, no serious moves rolled off the front and though I had to work to do so, I stayed in the top 10 wheels. I was very relieved when we came into the penultimate climb for the lap, which was "neutral" for the feed. I was feeling the effort of the climb, and I expected the pace to stay high through the zone. My thinking was: no "attacking" but my tempo doesn't have to be slow! However, everyone around me took it down a notch. Whew. Being the fat kid I am, I was glad to not climb at race pace. Things ramped up on the next hill however, but I was close enough to the front, and worked hard enough, I crossed the start finish (yay, just 29 miles to go!) in fourth position. This is in marked contrast to last year when I was suffering terribly at this point, and got dropped from the group 2 miles later.
Per our team plan, Luke attacked in the first crosswind section after the turn. However everyone was thinking the same thing: "it's lap 2, don't let anyone go." Furthermore, Luke had demonstrated during the first lap shake-down that he could hold a high pace at the front. Maybe it was the aero-booties that tipped them off. Regardless, the group surged and caught him. The pre-race plan said that Sweet Pea would attack next, but as I looked around from 10th wheel, I didn't see him. I didn't feel great but I knew I had to counter-attack to make Luke's attack worthwhile. Such are the indellible laws of cycling: you always counter your team's marked moves! So I jumped hard, and we happened to be starting the first hill out of town. The effort was the same as a jump for a townline sprint, and as I gasped for breath I looked back to see if anybody came with me. I was crushed to see I was by myself but with a decent gap (100 meters?). I had a moment where I considered slinking back to the pack. In that moment I actually thought of other riders laughing at me, as I just burned a match in vain. Vain is the key word, as I'm such an approval junkie that I was actually thinking of how I'd be welcomed into the peloton. I turned back to the crest of the hill and crosswind, and began to stomp out a rythm. If they wanted me, they'd have to work to get me.
Well, somebody wanted to join the party, as soon enough a shorter chap on a Scott in a red and blue kit (team/sponsor MEC?) rolled up beside me. We exchanged no words, just pulls at about 18-20 mph. I could tell he wasn't feeling great as he would let it drop down to 17-18 mph, and I encouraged him to keep the pace high, relatively speaking. At around this time we must have looked convincing enough as a viable breakaway (I am shocked, really!) but 3 more guys (a big Tati rider on a Storck, a shorter guy from Psimet, and a taller guy from Momentum Racing) bridged up and we turned the corner into the tailwind section.
The Tati rider (John) helped the pace immediately and provided a better draft. We were talking at the front just before the turn and he almost missed it! With the tailwind I put down a long hard pull, thinking we should exagerate the gap as much as possible while the going was easy. (In retrospect, this might have been a mistake. I think it helped our gap on the field at that point, but perhaps I went too deep into the red as you'll soon read.) After my pull I went to the back, but 2 of the riders couldn't decide if they should get on the wheel or not. By the time I found a wheel, a gap had opened and we were chasing back on. My original break companion was dropped in this mix. It sure would have been nice to have another rider to share the load with. Soon after the turn the Momentum rider was dropped as well. I don't remember this specifically, but it was quickly just the three of us: John Whipple (Tati), Tim Speciale (Psimet) and your's truly (Wild Card).
John was driving the break and coaching us all the while: "keep it smooth guys, we need a steady pace; c'mon guys, we need to go faster - they're chasing back there!; let's keep it up, they're hurting too!" Not only was he taking longer pulls than Tim and I, he was giving us positive thoughts.
Tim at this point was swerving a little. It was clear he was digging deep. I was starting to have lower back pain followed by spasms. This is the same thing that happened to me 13 miles into my first road race and at Hillsboro last year. It is my weakness. I came off the back of the group twice and the guys waited for me. That's right, my competitors waited for me in the break. I couldn't believe these guys. Then again, another body to block the wind is priceless when you're on the rivet late in the race, so it wasn't altruism. I took it as a class jesture though, and thanked them when I rejoined, saying: "If I'm at the finish, I won't contest the sprint." And in saying this I resigned myself to 3rd place - or worse.
Perhaps this was my undoing as soon my back attacked me again and I fell off the pace. Into the headwind I pushed, stretched, and worked some more. I watched as John and Tim rode away. They soon realized my absence (after John had taken yet another 3 min. pull) and as I found out afterwards, they considered waiting YET AGAIN, but didn't. I can't blame them, I'm just frustrated with myself that I couldn't push that last percent to maintain contact. In the hours since I linger on the thought that I gave up and called it quits. Did I? Did I have more and just say: "This isn't worth it?" At some level I have to admit that I did. I was measured in that moment and found wanting - I didn't have it. Whether it was the core strength, the aerobic stamina, or the mental durability, or all three - I didn't have it. This is eating at me. Was it because I no longer had my sights on first place? Who get's motivated to race for third?
I continued on at a pace that allowed some recovery but kept me rolling. As I looked back I saw the peloton get closer and bigger. Despite this, the startling thing was how small it had become actually. Trimmed down from the same wind and hills that had wracked me, the chase group was less than 30 strong.
I started waving at the group in hopes that my team would recognize my colors and initiate the chase (rather than continue blocking) but it was not the case. Luke greeted me with: "I blew myself up blocking for you!" And that was it. Not only had I failed myself, I had burned my teamates up. Like a town drunk I began ranting about how John was the only one doing work in the break and his teamate is softpedaling on the front, and he's only 1 minute up the road. Nobody upped the pace, they were content to sit in, they were racing for third. Could I blame them?
Sweet Pea had popped a tire soon after I attacked (18-22 miles ago) and Rob had popped physically during the course of the race. Tom and Razzle looked good, aparently still waiting to pounce.
If there was a time to kick off the chase, it was then, while there was still time I assumed, so I went to the front. As I came up the right side I heard someone say: "He's blown." No matter, I thought, I'll give what I've got since Tati is doing his job of blocking. In the Druber style I took a glory pull. The pace went up and when I flicked the elbow, Tati pulled through with a big grin and the pace wound down at the base of a small hill. On that knoll I popped again and sat up for the remainder of the race, finishing in 30th place. Which, out of 120 isn't so bad. But oh, what could have been.
Epilogue:
As a team we worked very well the first lap and great until I was caught on the second lap. No doubt the blocking that Wild Card and Tati foisted upon the bunch allowed such a large gap for the breakaway. We still have some work to do in communicating position (so as to avoid my near-constant rearward glancing), and I need to have a lot more sense about what kind of pulling to do both early and late in the race.
Razzle Dazzle managed a sixth place finish, and Tom rolled in 11th. The pace was hot up the final hills I'm told, and the remaining bunch was properly shattered. I'm happy I could work for team-mates and in the process have a go at the podium myself. The thing that is most startling is that Frenchy, the fat sprinter type, had a viable shot in a long, hilly, road race - his weak event. Next time guys! Next time!
Larry continued to sheppard us while listening to our whining and showered us with encouragement as he packed up our bikes and shewed us towards recovery drinks.
My big consolation is the faith that once given enough recovery, hard efforts only make you stronger. To that end I smile, and look forward to the Tour of Hermann.
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