The Quick Step April

[Tour of Hermann Cat 3, 2011; Tour of St. Louis Cat 3, 2011]

Last December I decided I would pursue spring race plans akin to Patrick Lefarve’s: win everything in April.  The Quick Step April*.  It would start with Hillsboro, proceed to Hermann, perhaps include the Tour of St. Louis, and be crowned with the SRAM Tour of the Gila.  Hillsboro and Hermann would be warm-ups for the feast of suffering in the mountains of New Mexico over five days.  It would be a month of racing that would transform my body into a juggernaut or burn me to a crisp.  Either way, I was going to have a go.

Life changed course.  A new job opportunity that I had long hoped for came open; the door to the Gila closed.  New challenges presented themselves (moving, finding a place to live, integrating at the new job, learning the ins-and-outs of a new industry).  While much of that is still in process, cycling’s part is now done.  I’m pleased with the Quick Step April.  Here are some highlights.

Hillsboro

I’ve already written a race report, but this will remain a highlight for the foreseeable future.  Season highlight?  Most def.  Career highlight?  Probably.

Tour of Hermann

This is a fantastic race.  The wife and I stayed in town this year and had a good time between the racing, dining, and hanging out.  We needed it after moving all our junk down to StL the three days prior.  My results weren’t great (between the heat and moving, I was toast!), but I did roll a good TT, which I’m proud of.  Furthermore, I didn’t quit, which is important.

The Guttenberg climb was awesome.  I’m glad I got to ride it in a race this year.  It hurt, but it was cool to do.  Thanks again to Jeff Yeilding (and friends) and Stone Hill Winery (I recommend the fillet at the Vintage Restaurant) for a great weekend of racing.

I watched during the RR as Mr. Nick Ramirez shifted gears and I knew in that moment that he would attack.  I was hurting on the climbs and reticent to go but I pointed to him and Schilling said: “Go” in my ear.  My cadence went unchanged.  Mr. Ramirez went on to catch the solo leader up the road and smash the field by minutes.  It was a display that was very impressive.  Next time you see him at a race, shake his hand.

Tour of St. Louis

Circuit Race:

708 Racing p/b Dressel’s Public Ale House lined up to work for Keith, as several other members have already scored victories this season (it’s good to be a multi-threat outfit!).  Mike and I shepherded Keith until he made a nice solo bridge to what we thought was the move of the day.  As I blocked on the front it was clear that everyone else thought the same thing.  (Schilling was drilling it on the front, so everybody wanted to ride the Garmin train!)  So the move came back and another promising group got off, but Keith wasn’t ready to go, so I bridged up to Schilling and Leibowitz past a small group of chasers in “no man’s land.”  For the next two laps I was dangerously close to blowing up.  Between blocking, bridging, and trying to stay away, I was hurting.  Fortunately for me the guys took really smooth pulls and I was able to recover a bit.  All three of us constantly checked our six for the pack.  Nobody was giving us splits!  I tapped on my wrist making the universal “watch” gesture and the next lap we’d only hear “Go go go!”  Yes.  I understand I am in a bike race.  Generally I try to “go”.  Well, we wouldn’t see the pack again, so the podium would be decided between the three of us.  Having come into the race to work for Keith (he was doing the omnium, and I wasn’t), I thought about dropping back or just sitting in to kill the break.  But I considered the best thing for the team was to seal the deal, so that’s what I set about doing.  Before the final “s” turn Joshua attacked from third position.  I was ruthless and made Schilling chase even though he had been on the front.  When I could tell he was done I jumped and kept the throttle open all the way to the line, winning by a few bike lengths.  

Keith and Mike got to the line in the top ten during a dicey field sprint.  I don’t think anyone went down, but there were a lot of people and it was a twisty road with wind gusts.  I’m glad I was in a small group.  Thanks to Mike and Keith for blocking and playing the field smartly.

TT:

I didn’t do it, but instead caught a nap.  Keith had a strong ride in the wind for another solid top ten, keeping him in the fight for the omnium.

Crit:

I was not planning on completing the criterium as we (my family) were going to visit a local church.  But when the church I found to visit had an evening service, well… sometimes things just work out!  So I threw a clean kit in the bag and the bike in the car and hauled over to Delmar for a big open crit.  We (708 cat 3’s) were excited to have an embarrassment of riches at the start: Chris, Matt, Mike, Keith, and myself.  We were missing a captain in Nick, but this was the largest group assembled at one race thus far.

While the plan was to get Keith across the line first for the omnium, he got caught up in a crash about half way through the race and broke a shifter.  DNF.  I informed the boys and we set about a new plan: get Mike the win.  708 was always around the front, we followed and initiated moves but nothing was sticking in the stiff headwind on the back stretch.  I rolled the dice on a break but probably didn’t have it in the legs after Saturday’s exploits.  With three to go, Chris took a flyer on a lull and powered away from the field.  Another rider bridged and I went to the front to block.  The move kept other teams working and the pace high so Mike and I maintained position near the front.  Entering the final laps Mike was on my wheel ready for a leadout.  I was surfing the front not too eager to blow up early.  (To be honest, I have little leadout experience.  Usually I’ve been sprinting up through the field instead of being at the front where I should be.)  On the backstretch, streaking up the right side was Aaron of Team Veda (can we call him Darth?) going all in for the V on a last lap flyer.  I was maybe 5 wheels back and hoping that the others would chase.  Nada.  One by one the guys went into “saving it for the sprint” mode.  Lame.  I ramped it up into the wind.  Frankly, the first 30 seconds doesn’t hurt.  But the last 30 seconds doesn’t tickle!  Mike was on my wheel and we took the last two corners hot.  I shifted twice more (12? 11?) and gave everything I had.  Aaron had timed it right and I had failed  – I didn’t catch him (he had the field by 20 meters easy!)  In the heat of battle Mike thought that the red tent (wheel pit) was the line, so when he stood to go he was already at the finish line.  We had finished as we started the leadout: 2^nd and 3^rd.  It was a painful mistake for both of us as Mike had fresh legs at the end.  However, the day is coming when we get the timing dialed!

Epilogue:

Without races on the calendar for the next two weeks, the Quick Step April has ended.  Two wins, a second place, and a lot of great memories.  The racing helped me get through the stress of the move as anger and anxiety need an outlet somewhere.  I’d bet that the “pain face” you see in those finishing photos has more to do with internal struggles than the electro-chemical cries of sinew.  Just a thought.

The next chapter of the season is about to begin.  708 Racing is just getting started.

*For the last two years it could be called the Cancellara April.  However, Quick Step has been targeting it for longer!

Hillsboro Roubaix 2011 (Cat 3) Race Report

Hillsboro Roubaix is a race with several traditions (from the 4 editions I’ve ridden): crosswinds, shattered packs, crappy roads, whining about the yellow line, strong words and grandstanding from officials about said yellow line, the first sunburn of the season, and getting dropped.  Most of these traditions were carried forward, but yesterday I set a new precedent for that last one.

Three 708 racing p/b Dressel’s Public Ale House riders lined up for the cat 3 race.  Nick and Keith graciously agreed to work for me in the race.  Our team was prepared as best we could be and we were hoping for a good result.

At the start Jerry (I’m terrible with names, I doubt this is his real name, but let’s go with it) of the Livestrong-kitted-team started up a dialogue…

Jerry: Were you in that break last week?

Me: What are you talking about?

Jerry: At Forest Park?

Me: What are you talking about?

Jerry: Weren’t we in that break together two weeks ago?

Me: What are you talking about? (I grin.)

Jerry: Ok, that WAS you…

My cover was blown and we hadn’t even started.  I looked around and found some of my “marks” in the 100 man field.  We soon pushed off under sunny skies in brisk winds.  The blue shirts decided that the neutral start should extend down the first hill, which is fine.  However the pace care maintained 17mph of neutrality down the hill.  I considered abandoning the race as I quickly emptied not my legs but my store of g-rated exasperation phrases.  “Gosh! Well I’ll be! C’mon!”  It was an episode of the Andy Griffith show but we were only 3 miles in.  I didn’t want to go HBO on the field but that is how it was looking.  Why did I sign up for this?

We eventually got underway but most of the race suffered from our bunch being afraid to really go hard at or off the front.  Hard surges would be followed with long periods sitting up.  During the slow times I would sing and chat with my neighbors.  I’m sure not a few racers wanted to shut me up but the way to do that was attack and only a handful of guys really gave it a go.

The big drama on the first lap came when the moto ref neutralized the field and told us to quit breaking the centerline rule.  He was right for calling us out.  I watched as a rider dodged an oncoming car while rounding a blind left hander (if you raced, it’s that down and up one – can’t forget it!!).  We barely escaped a tragedy beyond speaking.  While we were getting our lecture and being threatened with a mass DQ (not an offer for “Blizzards on Me!”, either) a rider behind me asked a confrontational question.  I don’t even remember what it was.  The ref responded to the group yet more agitated.  I was incredulous and told the kid to shut up.  It reminded me of my freshman speech class in college…

A young PhD candidate Sherlene (I don’t actually remember her name) was our instructor and also the course admin (organizing the course and curriculum for the department that year).  Unfortunately for her, she had a room full of cocky engineers-to-be on her hands – not the easiest clay to mold.  Sherlene asked the class: “What have you heard about this course?”  And genius of geniuses, Rufus T. Barleysheath (not real name) is the first row pushes back on the bridge of his spectacles, raises his hand, and utters the words “blowoff class”.  My forehead hits the desk.  To Rufus and his kin in the peloton: learn to keep your mouth shut!

Meanwhile, in Hillsboro…we ended the first lap quickly as Nick (Burnham) and Tim (Psimet) showed themselves in the top 20 for the first times.  Both are strong riders who are close to upgrading, so I had my eye on them as main competition.

With the wind speed and direction it seemed that for anything to stick it had to get away around the halfway point on the 2nd lap.  Tim, Jason (Wild Card) and a few others had a go in the crosswinds but cooperation never developed at the front.  I foolishly thought I could force a move by 1) Broadcasting it (“Go! Go! Go!”) and 2) Jumping away myself.  I was looking at the prospect of hanging myself out front 8 miles out of town.  Instead of accepting the likely death this would render, I resolved to win the bunch sprint.

Nick (708) had sheltered me from the wind throughout the race and kept me near the front.  In the run-in to town we stayed in the top 20.  I slipped into the top 15 before the hills and we separated the men from the boys as guys started blowing up.  I’m told we gapped the pack on the first hill, they caught us on the flat run in to hill two, and things shattered again.  Descending into the moonscape of tarmac, cement, and brick I was sitting top 5.  I think I bunnyhopped four pieces of “road” that would have eaten my Honda.  I followed wheels until Jonathan (Chipotle Junior Development) came by on my left and I returned the favor by the line, winning Hillsboro Roubaix by a small margin (a wheel? – someone post some pics!).

My heart exploded in emotion as I screamed “yes”.  Not sure to whom.  I probably scared some kids.  I hope the good people of Hillsboro didn’t mind too much.  I could have yelled other things I guess…

The moment was surprising for me.  Public displays of emotion – are they anyone’s forte?  But there’s no hiding how you feel at max heart rate.  I was naked.   My goal was before me and I answered the challenge.  I did it.  I had redemption from the 2010 edition.

A pleasant surprise was the congratulations I received from my peers.  Several competitors were genuinely happy for me.  One even hugged me.  We all know classy riders and well, other riders.  I enjoy competing with friends, the guys with class. 

Epilogue:

Last year’s race ended in disappointment but with good signs of early season fitness.  The race became a psychological watershed for my own racing and later, a goad through winter training.  This year it’s a little bit different as my goals are to survive the next week of moving my household before defending at the Tour of Hermann.

Forest Park Criterium (2011 Cat 3 Men)

Great Forest Park Bicycle Race Report (2011 Cat 3 Men)


Big Shark hosted the StL racers for the opening criterium of the season. The weather was perfect for bike racing: high 60’s and sun. There was wind out of the south which gave certain legs of the course a head/cross/tail wind respectively. The finishing stretch had a bit of a cross wind to make it interesting.

The field was of good size, I’d say at least 50 riders, perhaps 75 in the 3’s. My new team, 708 Racing p/b Dressel’s Public House lined up with 4 cat 3’s. Chris, Matt, Nick, and I were outfitted in our new team kits and racing together for the first time. (One of our captains, Mike, was busy winning the Lake Perry Road Race out in KS…) The other StL teams were out in force with 35 Dogfish and 47 Michelob/Big Shark riders. For someone used to racing in the Chicago area, I’ve merely exchanged xXx-Athletico and Burnham for these other mega-teams. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Momentum had a strong contingent, with Hub, Off the Front, and Livestrong-looking-kitted team also ready to dance.

I usually have power and speed numbers from my handy-dandy powertap, but with a winter’s worth of riding on that rear hub the bearings sound like corn-nuts. So I borrowed a spare set of wheels from my good friend Dan (EA70s, which feel like butter!) and threw some race rubber on. The result? No data beside percieved exertion. But we’ll get to that in a moment. FYI, those wheels were great.

With the wind in play and the fact that it was an early season race with variable fitness/motivation/skills in the field, we elected to try to get a breakaway up the road. If that didn’t work out, we would try to get Nick to the front in the finale for a sprint win. Nick didn’t feel like going off the front all day (having done a hard day’s training on Saturday) and Matt was unsure of his early season form. So Chris and I were looking to cover moves and get off the front when the race got hard. Nick, Chris, and I all got in some early moves and it was clear that Momentum had a few riders also hungry for some suffering off the front. Dogfish and Michelob would get a guy up the road and then one of their other million riders would get greedy and the pack would chase. Matches were burned and smiles were shared.

About halfway through our 60 min + 5 lap affair (is it just me or was that a long race?! Ok, I made it long for myself…) a Momentum racer and Michelob (or was it Dogfish?) guy was off the front. The pack was looking tired so I thought this could be a good time to go. I jumped to the wheel of a guy bridging and he started to stall out in the headwind. I pulled through and finished the job, going to the front and trading pulls with Momentum. At this point we had 5 or 6 dudes in the group: a Hub, Livestrong-like-kit, Michelob, Momentum, and your’s truly. Having already driven previous breaks that got caught when dudes didn’t rotate through, I was hollering (no sailor talk) for smooth, fast turns. Sure enough the guys were working together well, and after burning off Hub and Michelob, there were 3 of us with about 25min and 5 laps (another 10 min) to race. Oh joy.

We were rotating through well and starting to get splits from spectators. A HUGE thank-you to Katie Hand, the SLGC girls, Jason, and Kurt who cheered for me. I definitely needed that help to keep rolling. Our gap topped out around 30 sec but then started to come down with the clock. Sure enough, as the board went from minutes to laps the gap was shrinking and my companions in the break were starting to fatigue. Livestrong-like-kit was skipping pulls and Momentum (who did a heck of a lot of work) was looking rough. Spectators were telling us to “keep-it-up” but they also informed us that our 25sec gap was now 15sec…now 10sec! Surely our teamates had blocked for us but the chase was finally getting organized. As Momentum pulled off early in the finishing straight we had just over 4 laps to go. I glanced over my shoulder to see the pack strung out on the previous stretch – a false flat with a tailwind. It was now or never. I punched it to strike out on my own.

Spinning out I shifted while giving a little “shake and bake” to ensure it was all 708 off the front. It was showtime. That first 30 seconds was exhilarating. Spectators cheering and I was flying through the crosswind with adrenaline pumping. However, once I turned into the headwind I regretted my decision. My legs began to tell me how much of a fool I was for choosing this route. My coaches words rang in my head: “if you aren’t hurting, you’re not racing.” I guess I was racing.

My friends who cheered for me in the three man break now got loud as I passed by. Thanks guys! It hurt but I pressed on. During the tailwind stretch I kept looking back and I still didn’t see the pack. A Mesa Masters rider rebuked me: “Quit looking back!” Indeed, the race was ahead. Pedaling through the corners and hugging the sides to hide from view I pressed on to the final lap. Having emptied my bottles and my legs I stood on the false flat to give my last effort. I died in the final cross wind. Power gone, oxygen deprived, I saw a line of sprinters fly past in the closing meters. I sat up. I had emptied myself for the win, not a middling place, but now it was all gone.

Thinking about it on the ride home three seconds would have made the difference. With three more seconds in hand, mine would have been raised. Cest la vie. Until next time I’m looking for those three seconds and I think I know where to find them – up the road!

As my first race of the season Sunday’s outing answered some questions about my fitness and how the winter training went. Early indications are good. It reminds me of the near constant whining to my coach that was the month of January. “Does everybody train this much? Do I have to torture myself like this? I hate the trainer!” “Everybody who will be fast this year is putting in the time.” Thank you coach.

Finally, it was great to see some of our sponsors out in attendance (which isn’t surprising because they are supporters of bike racing in StL), Russ from Mesa Cycles (our sponsoring shop) and Ben of Dressel’s Public House. Check ‘em out! I think we flew the flag for them bravely today, from Jason in the 4’s to Kurt in the P/1/2’s. And there will be more excitement to come!

708 Team Ride

On Sunday I drove down to Clayton to meet up with my new teammates from the 708 Racing p/b Dressel’s Public House cat 3 squad. The wife gave me leave to play bikes with these guys for a get-to-know-you group ride. Such rides are critical before the racing season starts. Although with any team you hope the ethos is “tous pour un, un pour tous”, can you really expect guys to mentally and physically push the limits for strangers? Eight of us set out in mild temps under clear skies to initiate such bonds.


Joining us on the ride was Justin, another new face for me, who is the area Specialized rep. (though not racing w/ 708). We talked bikes and cranks a little bit while his Tarmac SL3 produced not a little bit of bike lust. At a coffee stop I got to talk shoes with him as I was wearing my old Specialized road shoes – I’ve kept my S-Works inside for fear of ruining them in early season slop. He assured me that they clean up very easily which was music to my ears. Another concern I’ve had with my new shoes was addressed by teammate Chris who works at our sponsoring shop Mesa Cycles. I haven’t been able to get comfortable with the cleat placement despite some tinkering (to be fair, this has less to do with the shoes and more to do with the nature of Shimano pedals). Chris filled me in on the BG fit services at Mesa. The promise of more comfort and power is always attractive!

After the last several months of trainer rides I must have looked like a clown on the road. Hooting and hollering and swerving all over the place – I was ecstatic to be outside and with friends. Oh, and they actually have hills down there in STL, so I was constantly engaged with climbing and descending. It was great. The goal for the ride technically was to cruise at endurance pace for 4+ hours. It takes a very disciplined group to ride a steady pace in rolling terrain for that kind of duration. Allow me to be the first to admit that I was undisciplined. I surged on every damn hill. Hi, I’m a jerk. I couldn’t help myself; it just felt so good (in a cycling stress sort of way). The upshot of all these competitive dudes on a ride was that we could see the strength of the team. Power meters don’t lie (if they’re calibrated) and this is one strong group. Personally and corporately, it was encouraging to see that winter training is starting to produce some fitness. Several times I heard what every preening cat 3 ego longs to hear: “Guys, back it off a bit.”

The ride wasn’t all smiles and giggles. After the winter’s harsh treatment, the roads had some nasty potholes, seams, and cracks. Justin smacked one such seam at full speed producing a horrendous “clank” - momentarily turning stomachs at the thought of several $K in ruined carbon fiber. Surprisingly he didn’t even get a pinch flat! Another foul moment came about when a small minded dork in a pickup threw an empty bottle at our paceline, striking Mike in the head. Nick, Mike, and I chased after the truck but they made it through the next light while we didn’t. I’m not sure what we would have done, but it would have been good to get the license plate of the offender. Speaking of license plates, I think it was “SHOGIE” who decided that honking at us repeatedly would enhance her driving experience. I felt I had to oblige her, so I rode alongside waving and blowing kisses. I hope she felt the love during those moments - though she appeared to need something more, perhaps a glass of Metamucil? The few d-bags aside, the thousands of other drivers we encountered were polite and shared the road.

All told we had a good ride and got to know each other better. In those moments of shared suffering we initiated a trust that will be called upon in the months ahead. With racing soon upon us gaps will need closing, brakes shut-down or initiated, and lead-outs performed. These men will band together to find the line first. Tous pour un, un pour tous!

War Book: The Forgotten Soldier

I recently finished reading Guy Sajer’s account of fighting for the Wehrmacht on the eastern front from 1942 through 1945. I have not read many war stories so I feel somewhat unburdened by the overuse of language to describe the endless suffering and privations of a soldier. The account was enthralling and written in a style that chilled your bones during the Russian winter yet (thankfully) showed some restraint in repainting the full horror of battle.


Sajer’s experience informs me of the tragedy of war. Between the German/Prussian/Polish/Russian towns razed and the slaughter of civilians fleeing before the Russian horde, Forgotten Soldier impresses the obvious fact that war is costly and never bloodless. In what little I’ve read of Ralph Peters’ work, this theme - war is “war” - kept coming to mind from Sajer. Expectations of bloodless conflict and “clean” victory are foolhardy. It causes me to have at once a greater respect and fear (how they are bedfellows!) of armed conflict.

Guy’s character appears neutral to the reader and as a Franco-German he seems helplessly pulled into this conflict. I don’t hate him as a Nazi. I found myself rooting for him and his comrades against the Russians, who appear truly wicked. One has to remind oneself who the original aggressors were despite the brutality of the Russian reprisals. The entire ordeal smacks of the biblical scale of retribution poured out by one nation onto another. The cold irony of the Russian advance is that the people who supported the army/regime which massacred the Jews received similar treatment from the East. The Jews were handed over to the SS and then the Germans, Poles, and Prussians were handed over to Ivan. The entire ordeal is unthinkably horrible.

It is tempting to think of that time as simpler: Axis = bad, Allies = good. Sajer doesn’t allow such simplification. His humanity is magnified in each conflict and “right” and “wrong” are no longer appropriate labels for Germans or Americans. Such is war it seems.

My favorite moment from the book was the lone glimpse of humanity in the Russian soldiers. Sajer and his unit were defending a line against several oncoming enemy tanks. Their minefield had been removed either by artillery or a previous wave of attack. Firing machine guns and anti-tank weapons of every sort Sajer’s unit destroyed 2 tanks while a third was critically damaged. Unable to fight with their armor, the tankers exit and draw pistols. The heroism of the two is rewarded by the Germans not with execution (which was the custom practiced by Ivan) but by capture and a round of Schnapps after such displays of valor. For a moment I felt as if I was reading about some embellished aristocratic bond between fighter pilots of the previous Great War.

The denouement was startling in its emotion and brevity. A return to normal life after his war experience seems impossible. I do hope writing his book was cathartic. It goes without saying that I greatly recommend the book.

Cycling - Season End Journal 2010

Well, the 2010 "season" is done and dusted. The 14 road races and 7 cyclocross races made up the busiest racing season of my cycling "career" (ha!) and more than doubled my experience in the sport. It's funny that in some respects I feel I'm a seasoned racer but put in those terms (30 races over 3 years) - I'm still pretty green! I suppose this is the attitude to have: there's more to learn than I already know.




Besides showing myself how much is left to learn, this year has been a good one for accomplishing goals, sort-of. Coming into the season as a strong cat 4 (ha!) I was eager to win the state championship crit and help teammates win at important races like Hillsboro, O'Fallon, or Hermann. Well, I didn't win the cat 4 state crit and my team didn't place better than top 10 at Hillsboro, but I still feel the season was a big success. Why? After a strong string of results in the early spring (nothing outside of top 5) I went to Hillsboro to work for the team.



Hillsboro is always a beast of a race and in a power test at the shop the week before I put out poor numbers (11% drop from my previous test! Yikes!). Hillsboro is not a race to reward anything less than your best effort so 2 other teammates were chosen as the protected riders. I was happy to work for Jason and Tom. The race went according to plan except my counterattack of Luke's 2nd lap move (both intended to soften the field for our teammates) stuck and became the winning break. Sadly, "Papa John" Whipple (Tati) rode me off his wheel in the break, taking Tim Speciale (Psimet) with him to secure the top 2 podium steps. Great stuff: a great victory for John and a hard-earned podium for Tim. For me, it was a bitter pill to self-destruct (multiple times) a few minutes up the road of the pack.



From the disgrace of Hillsboro I took courage for the next weekend of racing down at the Tour of Hermann. After a mediocre timetrial (6th) I finished 2nd in the crit and 2nd in the road race. I had been humbled at Hillsboro but put together a great ride in MO winning the cat 4 omnium! The weekend's racing introduced me to a new teammate in Mike who along with Nick and Kurt have formed the core of 708 Racing presented by Dressel's Public House – my new team for 2011. Their (Nick and Mike's) selfless racing to support me in the omnium was a huge boon and I owe them big-time! It turns out that perhaps my pre-Hillsboro power test was the result of being pretty fatigued and all I needed was some rest and motivation - a good breakaway effort at Hillsboro and a great weekend at Hermann were huge confidence boosters.



Following the elation of winning in Hermann (including 3 bottles of wine!) I applied for my cat 3 upgrade. While I hadn't yet won an individual race in 2010 (3 2nd places at that point!), the omnium result convinced me it was time to race at the next level. USA cycling agreed. With that change my shot at the cat 4 state crit vanished and the competition was only stiffer for the title in the 3's. Before the paperwork went through I hopped in a cat 4 road race in Ohio while in town for a wedding. I finished fourth despite dropping a chain on the first of 7(or was it 9?) laps and covering about every move. Still riding high on confidence.



Both state championship races ended poorly for me however, with mis-timed efforts and/or complete breakdowns. But from these races I take away valuable lessons on when and how to go. Like I said, I have a lot to learn.



Two other setbacks included mechanical issues. A flat tire during the first of three laps at the state RR caused me to burn several matches chasing back on when I should have been conserving in the bunch. A flat tire during the Winfield crit cost me a chance at the win - another occasion when Tim (Psimet) rode away, but this time not due to my fitness. I have since sold the wheelset that produced both flats. It has been banished from the service course!



The road season ended as it began for me: on a high note. After taking July off from racing (not something to repeat!) I ramped up through August regaining form and confidence. A podium finish on the first day of the THF Realty Gateway Cup, followed by 3 more days in the money confirmed that I should be racing in the cat 3's and that I am close to winning at that level. This last result requires I credit my coach Sean. We started working together mid-season and it has been a big help to me as he focuses on my weaknesses. As we continue training, 2011 will only be better.



The cyclocross season was a fun change of pace. After coaching soccer during and following the Gateway Cup I had been off the bike a fair bit and running a lot more. Cyclocross has been something I've been interested in but never really able to dive into and indulge. The wife let me do so for 7 races this year and I'm glad I did. The highlight of the season was winning my second race - the cat 4 B's. I was sandbagging heavily but it was fun to do it once. It seemed like the rest of the time I just plain sucked out there but [insert excuses + whining]. You have to kick back and laugh at yourself with cyclocross though!



That was the 2010 bicycle racing season for me. Lots of highs and lows to remember fondly. For 2011 I'd like to do what I did in 2010: double my annual race starts (and finishes) while taking my racing to a higher level. The foundation is being laid now and I am putting in the work to contribute to the success of my new team: 708 Racing presented by Dressel's Public House. I'm pretty excited about the adventure as we will have a solid team of cat 3's who will all be able to win races. Add to that the pointy end of the organization in the cat 1&2's on the squad and we should have a nice elite team in the next year or two.

The façade of immortality crumbles

I’ve pontificated before on this blog about the spectre of death and my children’s conciousness. My wife and I sidestepped (a nice way of saying changed or lied about) death in several Bible stories read to our eldest. But what started a week ago as sighting a dead bird has snowballed in my daughter’s mind to questions of human mortality. “Who will care for my stuffed animals when I die?"


The event is more beautiful and horrifying than I anticipated. With death on the horizon we live life more ardently but seeing the mind opened to The Fall is enough to make one tremble. I encounter news of tragedy every day, however it’s a slow harvest of bad news (most of the time). For the first time vistas of pain and suffering are now clear to my daughter. Everything tragic introduced at once: all things decay and die. 3 weeks ago all animals were happy and likely people’s ages were fairly static for her. The world has changed. I’m sure she doesn’t fully comprehend our collective mortality (do any of us?), but real fear is evident.

My beautiful wife briefly explained the narrative of redemptive history to my daughter when she started asking questions about death. I thank God that my daughter was not in a daycare when these questions surfaced. I struggle imagining what response she’d hear or what uncomfortable brush-off she would receive. Label: morbid child.

As a coincidence (is there such a thing?) we’ve recently started reading a pericope or two a night in the gospel accounts. With each reading the Gospel is explained in part and the wife and I pray for this little one to take hold of it.

Chesterton pointed out that the attraction of children’s stories lies in the secret magic behind the ordinary. “These every-day beans grow a stalk tall enough to reach the giant’s castle.” OR: “At the stroke of midnight the carriage and men will return to a pumpkin and mice.” But there IS magic behind the ordinary (see: post-synapse protiens resistent to change). And so as terrifying as is death stalking us, her eyes will grow to see the beauty of this fallen world, still laden with magic…a man and woman reached for an apple and destroyed the world. The Man took Adam’s place dying on a tree, but lives.