Super Duper Crit

Race blogs, lol. I'm so 2008. May as well put one in the ledger for 2013:

No 50 mile CX races this offseason, just some good old fashioned roller time (a lot of it), rounded off with a little Florida vakay to get some sun and dust off the pack skills. Enter race kickoff day 2013, Burnham's Super Crit, on a killer motorcycle/midget car race track called Blackhawk Farms.

Race 1: 30+ 4/5
They said 40 minutes at the start, but I should have known better. They rang the bell at 30, and I assumed it was a prime, and by the time I figured out otherwise, I recovered for 12th. whatev.

Race 2: 30+ Open
This was a big boy race, and I planned to play it safe and not be lunchmeat for the 1s and 2s. Teammie JFerg followed Zens on an early solo flyer so I sat around at the front. A couple guys went off to bridge, and I let them, though I remember thinking, dammit, I should be up there, he's the sprinter between us, and I go long. Soon enough, I saw him get dropped, and took it up. A couple guys used me up, then jumped to join the other bridgers, who formed a six man break for good.

I chased and chased and chased. A Wisco masters' rider (that's code for 'older than me') couldn't put in much, nor could Zens, who'd initiated the break, and been dropped from it. Nate from Burnham sat on our wheels as we would expect, since he had two guys up ahead.

I was doing the big turns after a while, so I knew I had to thin the group of four before the finish. I attacked after Zens' turn and only Nate could follow. I figured I'd just hold off those two to the finish, and get pipped by Nate in the end. Lo and behold, I was surprised to see the leaders in sight with half a lap to go. Nate had to finally take it up if he wanted to be any use to his guys up there, so I got a break and sucked wheel.

We approached them and two guys had just taken off at blitzkrieg speed to contest the win, leaving these guys eyeballing one another for 3rd. They weren't happy to see two more faces in the mix, so somebody jumped and the drag race was on. I was toast but happy to say I technically completed the bridge, then I noticed Nate fading slightly.

Final turn: me in the back, in our new low profile kit. Photo sorta borrowed from Ali Engin.

It's a deceptively long stretch after the turn, so I had time to run through his sprint and get him in the end. 8th of 31, just behind Chad Hartley, HAAAAY. Not bad for a cat 4 for lyfe. Other than wussing out on establishing the break, and just missing the move that became the break, I was pretty happy with the legs.

Race 3: cat 4
I was toast. I tried to protect teammies when I saw them exposed in the windy section, or drag them to the front, or just put in a hard turn on point when I got tired of the sketchfest in the pack. Somehow finished 18th/65, and Roadhouse got 2nd. Squirelliest race ever. MUST UPGRADE. At least I know I won't be the slowest cat 3.

2011 rebounds

Not much action here anymore, but I figured, what the hell, a little summer wrap-up:

2011 didn't look to be too promising, what with a torn rotator cuff and surgery keeping me untrained for 10 weeks. I played it by ear this year, doing long solo rides, hella intervals, fartlek-on-a-bike, some swimming, and a new one for me: rest and recovery between hard workouts. I guess it worked: I only raced 8 times this year, but the results were pretty good:

-Gravel Metric - win (tie)

-Glencoe - Cat 4 sprint points competition (yeah, it was only a couple of primes, but damn it's a fancy watch)

-Cat 4 State Champ - Points race. That's *my race* and I wanted it more than anything since the SSCX in 2009. I was marked but I took the last 3 sprints FTW. I won both cat 4 races that night, and was the top 4 in the 3/4s race. That's when I started to notice my form was coming on...

-Cat 3 State Champ - Scratch. My first night as a 3 and I won both 3s races! I came looking to work for Jeff, but he ordered me to go for the win myself. He worked them over and made it look easy for me. No disrespect to my fellow racers but the 3s field isn't too deep right now. A couple big dogs have upgraded, and one of the strongest 3s doesn't have a teammate, so Jeff's attacks were particularly effective. Just to bring me down to earth: In the 1/2/3s Points race, I thought I was the baller, getting on Moyer/JT/Whiteman as they established their break...I lasted about 20 seconds.

Felt ok on my first CX race, but I haven't touched the CX bike in 8 months and apparently I've forgotten how to corner in the dirt. I blame all those laps on 20 mm tires at 145 psi.

Onward!

da Tour

I'm easing out of my self-imposed embargo on race blogging, on account of all the thoughts swimming in my head. There's only so much you can explain to a patient wife; the rest has to go somewhere. Why not here?

It only took a few years longer than expected, but we finally got around to doing a proper stage race, the first Tour of Galena. My fitness is off this year on account of my off season injury and surgery, but I managed to get some miles in, so I was looking forward to it. I fancy myself more of an all rounder, so I thought it would be interesting to see how I stacked up in the omnium. Plus, Brian's white hot right now, so we had a real contender to look after.

Things that went right:
I headed out early, pre-rode the TT course, drove the RR course, and built up a tent for the bus dwellers, since I had a feeling they would surface well after dark. My aero wheels were undergeared for the climb, so I was happy to find that out ahead of time and rolled with a mixed pair.



First thing to go wrong:
I drilled the first half of the TT, but at the turnaround, I made a mistake (apparently the kind that triathletes rake each other for!) I came around the barrel nicely, and using every inch of the road, I bore down for a standing start at the edge. A little sandy gravel was hidden on the surface and my rear wheel went sideways under the power stroke. I hit the dirt, and recovered quickly, but it killed my time. I finished 24th of 42. Not too bad considering, but about 23 seconds out of the top ten (and the points that came with it). I have a surprisingly bleedy scalped knee.

An Iron Cycles guy noted the irony that that a couple weeks ago I did 65 miles flawlessly in the gravel (and won), and this weekend, I did a couple seconds and hit the deck. C'est la vie.

Brian killed it and Al Pearson, fresh off a year of grad school, finished with him in 4th and 5th. A genetically gifted Toftoy brother killed us all, but I take some solace in the fact that he beat all of the P/1/2s field as well.

I didn't have high hopes for the RR, but I hoped to hang on to the main field longer than I did. The kickers were ok but the steep climbs got me. To think I used to sprint up rollers all day on a 53x16 back in Atlanta. That was 25 pounds ago (on a good day) but hey, I probably couldn't crack 600 watts back then, right? I fell in with a strong dude from Bellum and before long, two teammates in Al and Josh. The four of us hit lap two with a few xxx'ers and independents chasing.

We had a solid rotation going with Bellum outclassing us a bit in the power department, but we all worked our asses off. We spent a little too much time re-carbing and got caught by 4-5 chasers. This killed the collegial vibe, as not one of the newcomers would take a quality pull.

For some reason, I had discovered that I could hold a solid pace in the 27 on the steep hills, then miraculously around the midpoint, just take off. Great, NOW I find climbing power? I did this once to see if we could shed the wheelsuckers, but no one came with me. I went with it and solo'ed for a few miles, but got caught. I did it again on another hill and got caught after a few miles. My teammate joked about me going for a solo breakaway and I replied "I have to do what the legs tell me to do." I'm not settling in for comfy ride to the line.

I decided to make the last attack count, and just past the vineyard, I found my magical climbing power halfway up the hill. My breakmates inadvertently fueled it, as they settled into 'this sucks, are we there yet' kind of chatter. That shit makes me crazy in races, when people get into a group ride 'just get home' mentality. Frankly it makes me want to attack, so I did, and it stuck for a good long time.

A few miles later I was caught by a xxx'er and a Rhythm guy. 2-3 miles from the finish, I just decided to take soft pulls and watch the distance. xxx was in front and as soon as he figured out that no one was pulling through, we came to a little hill. He motioned for someone to pull through and I attacked. A little digger and I look back to see Rhythm on my wheel and no one else.

We slow rolled it a bit, sizing up the match sprint plan, and passed inside the 1000m mark. He coasted a bit and started stretching his glutes and calves out of the saddle. It was a little earlier than I wanted to jump but I couldn't let the opportunity pass. I went full gas and caught him off guard. It wasn't a huge gap, but it was enough. Up, down, left, right, and held it to the line.

Man I miss road racing. Battling for 30th feels great, until you realize...that it was a battle for 30th.

Brian got a flat, found no Campy 10 speed in the neutral wheel truck, and ended up taking Andrew's shoes and bike. He held on for 25th, his shot at the W and the Omnium were gone. Mike held on for 13th and Max for 18th or so.

My legs were trashed for the crit but I kept telling myself 'so are everyone else's.' Apparently that was not too true as the pace was a solid 27-28 in both stretches for most of the race. My long slow training plan showed and I was out of jumps after a dozen laps. I managed to stay in the pack and dodged crashes to finish 21st. Meh. Brian got second and after being in the top ten all race, Josh went down and killed his frame in the process. Double Meh.

I figure I finished around 31/42 in the Omnium but if I pretend I didn't crash in the TT I could have finished 26th if I'd gotten a single omnium point. Not too bad considering my fitness, but man, exhausting and taxing to say the least.

The ladies pretty much rocked it. Daph got 2nd in the TT, did the road race on a frickin' 23 toother in the back, and then she and Marie pushed the pace relentlessly in the crit to hurt the field. Daph got 3rd in the crit and 3rd in the omnium. I almost forgot that they were doing their 2nd and 3rd road races, but they have a lot of track experience. Jannette wasn't feeling it, but she's still sort of recovering from last year's crash, having just gotten a dental implant last week. She felt like her body was trying to generate bone, not race bikes.

The crew was in prime heckling mode, we didn't get ticketed for open containers, Jeff killed it in a Karaoke duet with Newt (then raced the crit the next day), and in general, a good time was had by all. Can't wait to do it again, just not any time soon.

My team is made of awesome

I'm taking a break from the self-imposed 'blog-about-every-race-experience' blackout (easy when you're dropped from the lead pack at Glencoe), but all racing should be as fun as last night at Soldier Field.

The cuttin' crew was rollin' deep, and we did one by the books in the first race. The players:
Andrew - Mechanical issues kept him from racing, so he drove the rickshaw down, with an injured Jannette and her sister on board.
Bradley - Flat in the first lap
RoadHouse - Crampy legs when he tried to move up. He just got into grad school yesterday, so one can't expect everything to go right.
Maxwell - Everyone could see cuttin' crew had the numbers in the race, so our attacks had to be taken seriously. Max and I led a few early to push the pace and soften the field.
Mike - Shows up out of nowhere with 2 to go, straight to the front, to pick up the pace and stretch out the field.
Me - With one to go, I take over and Jeff's yelling GO GO GO GO GO. I get 2/3 of a lap in, at the best pace I could manage.
Jeff - Jumps off my wheel and takes it home for the win.

I took a prime and Jeff took the other two. That's James Brown Tight.

Race #2 was a whatever, but with free entry for any repeat offenders, a bunch of people jumped in ass-dragging. Andrew managed to play a part in this race by offering a $5 prime on the 5th lap and the field imploded. Jeff took it, and I confess I let him stay up there, thinking he could repeat his last performance at Soldier, where he sat 3rd wheel in the break until unceremoniously stealing the win. I made a bunch of folks chase around me and didn't help anything. Pockets of 2, 3 riders everywhere and...oops, I see Heffy coming back. Time to make the donuts.

We get going again and we're in this little packlet of 4-5, then 10, then 8, then 4-5...all the while still 10 seconds off the three leaders. It wasn't so much working together as it was trading attacks to shell our group. It became clear that we weren't bringing them back and I decided to sit on Jeff's wheel and let him do the thinking for both of us. Around 3 to go, he was like "you ready?" and I'm thinking no, but saying yes. 1.5 laps to go and he ramps it up. Our group sees it coming but only Bicycle Heaven can respond, but he misses my wheel but stays in sight. Heffy pulls off in the penultimate turn and I go all in with a throw for good measure. Snap! 1 to go! I had a gap and just had to give 'er all the way around, and I see the leaders just a few seconds ahead. Could I? No. It wasn't meant to be, and I finished just off the podium, holding off Bicycle Heaven.

Mike from Mox was about the only wild card in the deck last night, finishing 3rd and 1st in our races, and that's with no team support. The main event turned out to be a pretty small affair, down to Liam and Padfield, with Liam FTW. Ah well, 1 win, 5 premes, a wooden medal for me, and my first proper leadout. Not a bad night for the team.

summer marches on

I followed up my 5-event night in K-town with a good old fashioned parking lot crit. Fortunately, the lot is in the shadow of Soldier Field (on Bastille Day, no less), and without gas money and a cross-state drive, everyone comes out a winner, even if there is pretty steep pricetag for this one. We're not doing a lot of road stuff this season, so it was rare to have a big squad out there. We daydreamed of delivering Jannette for the win, but the pace was hot and little gaps came everywhere in the field.

The legs were shattered so I wanted to add to the team cause early, laying down a hard pace. Turned out that a couple more gifted and rested (cat 1) cyclocrossers did the work for me, so I just did my best to stay near the front. I went all in for a t-shirt prime and with that, I was ready to punch the clock on my camera time. Luckily Jefferoi Perkuins was nearby and moved up to third wheel.

I knew I was to be dropped, so I let it happen slowly, over a couple trips into the wind on the back stretch. At least make a couple of legs suffer to close that gap. Max and Mike came around in one of those swarms, and they did a little soft-pedaling near the front, and with that, Jeff was In The Break.

Amazing, I tried to make a break happen 27 times last summer. Jeff races two crits a year and gets in one.

No fancy tricks, just plain old wheelsucking, and bam, he attacked with half a lap remaining, and took the win. He wouldn't post up or even write it up, but fortunately a picture means a thousand words.

Andrew followed up by killing the 'virtual' one mile climb up Mt. Ventoux in under 4 minutes, the record of the day by nearly 40 seconds. Nico's first road race. Daryl's our good luck charm, he races about three times a year, and we seem to win on the days he shows up. Sadly we'll have to relocate to keep that streak up, as he's about to move to Stockholm. Good times overall.

Fast forward to Kenosha, for my last little track tune up before the three day Allvoi Cup.

eh.
cat 4 unknown = 3 laps total. Lame. I tried out this thing I've heard about, "patience" they call it - it backfired, and I finished in shitth place.

Masters' 4/5 unknown = ONE lap. As in, blow the whistle, ring the bell. Super lame, but at least my premeditated attack looked clever and I held off for third.

Cat 4 Snowball - Brian and I got a gap and I tried to give this one to him (I wanted his help in the mini-main event), but he faded and I took top points in the laps seven and eight. Win.

Mini-main race: pfffft. I was tied for first coming into the final points lap and I screwed the pooch. I was the only one attacking, and it seems like there are a half a dozen Kenosha teens that love to sit in. Our three man break would grow back to six or so, and nobody would even take a decent pull. I should've been a bit smarter in the last couple laps, but as a wiser man once said: Racing is a battle between who you are and who you want to be.

three-peat

One morning in May, in my head was a voice,
it seems that sometimes, I have no choice.

Stage Race? Masters? What road should I take?
Fool that I am, I hear the call of the Snake.

Once when I was young and a lot more lean
I could do this one handed, on fifty three sixteen.

Those days are gone, and hills I now lack,
my only altitude on the banks of a track.

If you can't be on top, best make it a game
and ride it again and again and again.

Saddle up with the 40s, and keep a smart pace
no chasing the pros, but find SOMEONE to race.

Eleven laps in the tank, and my day has begun
oh well: twenty-sixth of just thirty-one.

Juice up and hose down, swap numbers, stay clean
find my way to the back row, for laps twelve through eighteen.

Though picking up spots on the climbs and descents,
they whistled us off, "no more for you gents."

Re-pinned and re-juiced, on the line for thirty plus
Turning pedals in anger, finish *this* one I must.

Wheelie! They cried, and the crowd I obliged
but...Manual? Bunny Hop? Oh well, I tried.

At last I approached the line for my bell,
but behind me? The leaders, sprinting like hell!

I pulled up in a track stand off to the side
let them go through, and posted in stride.

But I felt a little cheap, just doing twenty seven
so I rode it once more, until twenty eleven.

debut redux

It was a weekend of seconds for the Neurohr racers. Ella put one race in the tank back in March, a cold windy day that probably scared her off from any spring classics in this part of the country. She returned to the tarmac for Monsters of Midway, and I finally got to experience race day without pinning my own number. For me, the highlight was slow rolling my fixed gear around the course with her, "blasting" music out of my phone. Her choice for warmup music: "Party Train" by the Gap Band. Wise young grasshopper.

Well, it was a race for some of them. 20 deep from ages 10-18, 2 girls total, so she was flying solo about 10 meters into it. Her chain was skipping/nearly dropping and rather than pull off, she kept rolling by and yelling how many times she'd had to shift back on. "Eleven times! . . . Thirteen!" At some point I told her to quit shifting altogether and my wife told her to pull over or zip it (or something like that). Then her little brother got things sorted by yelling "PLOOPY!" as she rolled by, which put a quizzical look on her face, but we never heard a word about dropped chains (until the end, the total: 29). If you're wondering, it's a reference from the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, and yeah, though it doesn't really mean anything...it's probably not good.

All in all, it was a good outing: she got away from the 40 rpm cadence she seems to like, and kept the pedals turning hard for a solid 30 minutes. There's not much more to it at that age, though she's clearly figured out how to yell at the team mechanic mid-race.

Sunday I was up for Fox River Grove, a taste of Snake Alley without the bricks or the long drive. I've been meaning to dip my toe in the waters of a new age group for the first time this year, and since team support isn't too critical in this type of race, I decided to hit the 40+ race to see how I stack up. Answer: not too well. Although, as a teammate pointed out, I was racing against guys with hyperbaric chambers and national titles. Then again, they probably have plenty of actual "hill repeats" in their plan as opposed to a couple of "high resistance intervals" in mine. I had a couple of well-placed flurries to score some separation from the, uh, short list of guys that finished behind me, but mostly I was riding solo.

Frankly it was a little dull, like a time trial instead of a race for about half the laps. I had some fun pacing the lead group, lapping me on the climb...for a good 20 seconds, and a bit better luck with the chase group, maybe for 40 seconds, but other than that, kind of a snoozer. I couple people had me at 14th, but officially I was 16th/22. Meh, though I scored a new PR in 1 minute wattage: 494.

Ah, data, the silver lining to the cloud of a rough race.

and on Monday god created racing

...and with it, senseless blogging from an overcaffeinated cat 4:

The fine folks at Half Acre have started up their training crit series, and as usual, it's loads of fun. Thinner fields this year, and some outtatown pro cross racer slash sandbagger killing everyone about half the time. Only our fearless USCF technical director would disapprove an upgrade request for a guy who's hit the podium eight times in four days, lapping the field half the time. (Really Fowkes? Really? You still think this guy is cat 5? Get over yourself.)

Soooo...Tuesday. Lined up with Jeff, Max, and Mike, and judging by the numbers, we should have been able to make something happen. The first three races had seemed, if not slow, a little measured and unbalanced with new 5s, with immediate splits in the field leading to "packs" of 15.

Unfortunately our race was the one to break that trend, it started fast and stayed relentless. A leadout train was expectable, but we'd been talking about sending me off on a flyer. With three to go, I tried to beg off, but Jeff talked me into it. We went with two to go, way early, but I had a feeling it wasn't going to have the desired effect, so I didn't argue. Jeff ramped it up nice and smooth to well over 30something, pulled off and I tried to 'jump.' haha, turns out I was hurtling for a corner and the same old line wasn't gonna cut it. I iced it a bit but hammered out of the corner. A couple of us had a gap, but not enough. The pace stayed hot which only guaranteed I couldn't recover in time for the sprint. Jeff was up there but he probably doesn't sprint for 6th. Mike was our top finisher in 7th.

Thursday: Me, Mike, and Max. 25 mph winds off the lakefront and cold. THIS is my kind of racing. The first race had this Toftoy dude going solo ten seconds into the race, and lapping the field. In our heat, I lined up behind him and held on. Thirty seconds in, and we had a huge gap! I thought, "this isn't too bad, I can keep this up for 30 minutes." We turned into the wind and I was still on, but a little zig and suddenly there's no quarter. He's in the gutter, I'm on his wheel, but I'm left hanging. I tried to hold on until the zag would open up a pocket of quieter air, but it never came. Maybe I made it a lap with him. I slip off.

I'm joined by a guy and I think, ok, let's do this, trade pulls to guarantee a podium. Next lap, first turn into the wind, he does about 5 seconds of work and motions for me to go ahead. I put in a solid, perhaps too solid, pull because I wanted to set the bar. His turn, and maybe he was saving something, but it was less than two laps in, and I just don't think he could really do it. Suddenly a third guy shows up and says "I'm here to work! Let's go." The two of them ride off. Great.

Drift back to the pack and I decide to do what I love best: attack. Get caught, recover, attack, get caught. The two pursuers ahead of us crack. I keep it up. Max and Mike sit in. Right when I start to think I'd better cool it, and start to think I might get dropped, I decided to try an experiment, at least to take a few people with me. I let a gap open up ahead of me, with about 3 guys on my wheel. By the time they realize I'm not dragging them back on, they go for it and can't make it back. The 21 starters have dwindled to about 14.

I attack to rejoin the pack...but can't catch them either. blah. I TT for 4-5 laps, getting a bit closer, but the leader laps us all and gets in with them and the pace lifts. Crap. One, another, another fall off and I pass them by, but still 10 seconds off the pack.

Mike and Max unfortunately BOTH continued the attacking ways, along with a couple others, but maybe one of them should have sat in. The "field" did get decimated down to 7, so I guess they all added up, but it would have been nice for one of us to have fresh legs for the end. Max and Mike got 5th and 7th.

One lap to go, a Loren from Tati and Adrian from Half Acre are out ahead of me. I didn't think I could catch them, as they were fighting oddly hard for two guys about to sprint each other. I just barely caught them and thought they might have more in the tank than me. I jumped while they were caught looking at one another, and I wound up a fine little sprint, if I say so myself. By the time they saw me, I was cruising and they both were yelling and laughing "WHAT? Where did you come from!" 9th for me, first spot after the pack.

And so, it's back on. The season that makes life worth living again.

this is for my souljas

The last day before my self-imposed month off, and I'm racing a Wednesday night. I was more excited about the Tokyo Drift League cars setting up for their competition. I have a little malaise at this point, and I was feeling like a training session, not a race or two. Hence the upcoming race vacation.

Seconds into it, a solo xXxer off the front with 3 teammates sitting up at the front. Puh-lease. I chase, but not too ferociously, just stretching it out, maybe 3-4 of us can get up there without too much effort and we'll witness the rarest of birds: a cat 4 breakaway in a 2009 crit. Nah.

You can always count on some fool to reel it back in, and that fool was me. I knew it and it didn't really bother me, and I was experimenting with the "controlled burn" - taking my sweet time without having to jump or hammer. Turns out I spent 9 minutes doing this...uh, that's not part of the plan. Guys were hanging out behind me, then jumping up to the break. Hm, clever, but not on my part. Finally, with 8 up there, and not much gap, I closed the last gap. If one good thing came out of this, it was that the field was neatly split in two. They weren't pulling lapped riders, so at least they all got to stay in their own little B group.

Fast forward to the end: I maintained a top tennish spot, then a couple preme attacks go off. Lou Kuhn and Ben Popper are at the front, and when Lou goes with 2 to go, Ben says "Go for it Lou!" Uh oh...is there some cyclocross brethren pseudo-teamwork going on here? Dangerous. I can't tell if Ben's sitting up, and half a lap goes by. I am NOT pulling again, so I wait. A guy with a hammer and sickle calf tattoo chases (I see this guy everywhere, I have to figure out his name one day) and I'm on his wheel.

We catch Lou, but now there's less than a lap to go. We're on the back stretch. Hammer and sickle realizes he's in the worst spot: the front. He looks back and slows up. No way. I'm not leadiing out anyone to the line. I probably should have jumped, but instead I wait for someone else to do it and insert myself somewhere. A few spots further back than I'd like, but whatever. We hit the corner and all pretty much maintain position through the bends. No room for a proper sprint, so I hang on for 6th, maybe 7th.

Back at it minutes later, my "last" crit of the season, and one lap in I flat. I'm slightly relieved for a second, but I've never DNF'ed in my life and I'm not starting now. Lew gets me back in, I chase on, grab a few spots here and there. My plans to work for Max and (new teammate) Al "Roadhouse" Pearson go into the can.With 4-5 to go I make a big move to get into the top ten and some dippy lapped rider goes off to the right (as instructed), but not by very much. So, is he continuing to fade to the right, and will he pinch me out? or do I be a total ass and blast through the narrow gap between him and the pack? I should have done that, but one little lean into the next turn and he'd have boxed me in at speed. This is why they usually pull lapped riders. This race was filled with them.

So I lose all my spots and that's about it for me. Pack finish. On to a month or so of race-free living.

ChiCrit

I'm totally disenchanted with crits at this point in the summer, but it's hard not to love this one. Fast and wide, nowhere to hide. All the luxuries of big ticket bike race, so what if it's largely staged to sell our Olympic-hosting capabilities.

Cat 4 starts fast and never lets up. I heard there were rider/pavement incidents but I didn't see any, and thankfully I wasn't involved. Other than picking a line through the 3 manholes on turn 7, I'm not sure why, there was plenty of room everywhere. I suppose people are always capable of going where they don't fit. Pack finish.

Masters' 35+ 4/5: Slower pace, but at least it leaves me feeling like a bike racer and not pack fodder. Hanging out in the top 10, Brean pops up and I'm thinking leadout to the end? - A little early, maybe leadout for preme cash? He takes off (between preme laps, huh?) and the pack picks up with a bit of urgency. Turns out he mis-heard the announcer on lap counts. I lose positions, but on the next lap I go for the second spot in a two place preme. Whole Foods gift certificate...I really can buy groceries with this one, so I go for it.

The top spot is long gone, but a xXx Brian and I go head to head and he takes it. Ah well, I nipped him for a preme at Super Crit, so I guess we're even. The preme winner is dangerously off the front with two to go. This is not a course built for blocking, but of course xXx have the numbers, so you never know. No one's having it, and we start to pull it back.

Not quick enough for my taste, so I decide to personally bring this one in, knowing full well it will cost me in the finish. I couldn't see who it was, but they have a couple guys who can do 4 minutes off the front, and I'm not gonna let that happen today. Brean has way more kick in the finish anyway, so I don't mind. It turned out to be an easy catch, but sure enough, the pace picks up and I'm pack-swimming into the finish again. At least this one left me feeling a little more like a shark, and a lot less like a bucket of chum.

Superweek: Evanston

Not much to report here. The circuit proved to be a bit less treacherous this year, but they still didn't get the mattresses over the rail at BK until after the first nasty crash of the day.

The 4/5s had been steadily shedding riders, and the core group seemed pretty solid. I wasn't coming into this race looking to shine. The fam was there, my wife was nervous, having picked me up from the hospital more than a few times. Normally I like a technical circuit, but I could smell desperation in the late laps.

Sure enough, the last lap through turn five, all hell. A couple bodies were already on the curb when I saw a rider endo into them. He landed on the pile and his bike cartwheeled up over them all. A couple riders tried to squeak by but spilled out into the road. I just made it through to finish 7th. Two paydays in one week...Too bad a couple of those spots were at the expense of racers on the ground. (2CC, maybe SCW?) I did see what looked like a Zipp 808 broken at two places on the rim. That's a lot of carbon fiber to be snapping under force, hopefully the guy laid out is up and about.

Cat 4 minutes later, I found a spot at the back and just stayed out of trouble. At one point I found Mike in front of me, and I got the idea to pull him up to the front before fading into oblivion. By the time I got into position to tell him the plan, there were two to go. Perfect! The pack surged, sagged, and we shot up the side. Not the side we wanted, but the clock was ticking.

There wasn't any room for him to pass me, and for an instant I thought maybe I could keep this leadout going a bit longer, try to sustain it through the final lap. Unfortunately a crash late in the straightaway send the pack overflowing onto our side...and we were back to our middle-to-back pack position, 28th for me. Oh well, at least I got to look like a competent bike racer there for a second. Frankly that race was clocked at 32 for a few laps, and I wasn't expecting to go the distance.

Ella suited up for a similar race; the 8-9 year olds did half a lap, and actually got to experience the BK Stacker. She was a bit nervous at the start, and a crash sent half her pack tiptoe-ing through the bodies as well, but she made it unscathed. Maybe 17th, 3rd female? Not bad for the first run of the summer.

At Evanston, the #1 goal is to stay upright, so it was a few wins in that regard.

Superweek: Arlington Heights

Cat 4/5: 20th.

Masters' 4/5: I met Dr. Steve, courtesy of a seam of uneven pavement on the far right side of turn eight. Nonetheless, I finished.

I had a fantastic Italian beef sandwich and lemon ice from Johnnie's.

Soldiering On

Soldier Field Series, Race #2, 1 July

Totally not feeling the race vibe...Wednesday night. huh? I didn't even get caffeinated for this one. This is why I never get jazzed to go to the track either.

Get there in time to root for Christina. Molly's out with a little bump and run from work. Christina has a good spot after the back stretch, but Jeannette Rho from French Bulldogs came wide around her and grabbed the win.

Barely warm up, still don't feel the vibe but fortunately it kicked in by lap 3. Waitlisted, pinned up seconds before rollout, back row start. How am I going to get up there in all these curves? Find a secret slot in each lap and grab spots, the pace thins out the field and I'm sitting top 5.

Michael Young and maybe Liam? from xXx were up front. I was convinced they would try a punch/counterpunch with every escape attempt, so I sat in at third wheel and covered every one of their launches. At one point, there were 4-5 of us stretching the pace, I put in a solid dig, and we just about had a gap, but each of these guys didn't seem to facilitate the other getting away. Maybe they don't have a plan after all? Granted the 50 foot wide backstretch wasn't conducive to blocking.

It was raining burrito primes, and I wasn't hungry. Sitting in second for a few of them, little goes off and nothing sticks. Brean up there, second in a prime, maybe they'll slip away, but again, nobody wants to escape, they just seem to be looking for burritos instead of securing a spot in the top 5.

I realize with a few to go that we're destined for a bunch gallop at the line, so I back off. They start throwing burrito primes every lap, two and three deep, and this brings out the piranhas. Still no effort to get away on anyone's part. We're all eyeing each other and nobody gets out the shovel to dig.

One guy in third wheel slides out on the final lap, going into the straight, but amazingly no one goes with him. Usually a half lap before the line I'm going backwards on account of riding aggressively all race, but this time...not so much. Not a bad feeling, but still not in a great position to contend for the podium, so I just focus on staying out of trouble. The last couple corners always bring out the bozos, and I'm not about to eat shit in a battle for 8th. Still had a bit of kick left in my legs after the final turn (also a new feeling) but it's a short stretch and there's a wall of faders in front of me, so I thread the needle for 13th. eh. Not too disappionted about it, since I just came to ride aggressively and press the legs. Mission Accomplished.

Brean gets 11th, but he is banged up, so he's ok with that. Courier/cat fiver Al "Roadhouse" Pearson gets 6th, racing in a PBR t-shirt after putting in a day's work. I like that. His third top ten in four races.

Tequila girls (no samples though), a free t-shirt, zero dollars in gas money. Not a bad race, considering it was a parking lot. Say what you may about the Olympic effort, at least it's making the city play nice when it comes to throwing sporting events.

escape from sheboygan

1 x 4 blocks, nothing thrilling, but at least they were 50 minute races.

The 4/5s was small and didn't get started fast. My legs are hinky from all those climbs last week, so I'm not sure about my sprint. 3 laps in, prime was announced and I decide to try it out and got outgunned big time. So I lurked and attacked after the prime...but no takers, they let me go.

It was 12 minutes into a 50 minute race. oops...

I went with it for 10 laps, and had almost a half lap at one point. I thought if I could get out of sight, some panic attacks might fly off, but with 4 long blocks to spot me, no chance.

Some 'sconnie ladies were screaming CUTTIN' CREW and the announcer mangled my name 17 different ways. Everybody could see I was fading so decided to sit up...but I still had 200 meters on the field and they rang the bell for a $40 prime so I decided to go for one more. I won it, but three guys went for it and were up with me. Finally! A bony 17 year old lookin' dude, a Gear Grinder, and a guy a bit labored by the bridge.

I sat in and let them pull for a couple but one of them was little help and another faded after a couple laps. They rang the bell for a prime and the skinny kid goes for it and none of us can match him...I don't have many matches left, and I don't want to burn one on a prime, as I'm thinking we'll all pull back together and keep this thing out.

He goes and never comes back.

How ironic; the same logic I used to escape ("he's just going for the prime") was used to escape me.

I'd been out solo for 20 minutes, then 15 more with an undergunned break, and I'm destroyed. We are the wrong guys for the job. I end up doing half-lap pulls into the wind myself because nobody else has staying power, but I don't have the speed. The field has assembled a chase and we're doomed. Caught with one to go. 22nd. I only beat my breakmates and the skinny kid wins.

Masters: Hurry up and slow down. Despite only having a ten minute rest, I felt surprisingly ok because the pace was slow. I lurk on the front, thinking someone might make a break happen. Geargrinder had like seven guys in the field but they were attacking each other. huh? They could have owned this race. Team Xtreme had 3-4 guys and if they both put someone in the break, literally half the remaing field would be blocking. I felt like there was a prime every three laps, but they all just slowed up after. The crazy thing is, this one guy got almost every one of them. He pulled in like $150! Why didn't they have all those when I was out all that time? Maybe because this race was dull and the table had to do something to fan the racing flames. twentysomethingth place.

In retrospect, I realize that's why they didn't put any out there while I was attacking...maybe it was a better race...they let it race unfold, and just as I wilt...THEN run a prime. Thanks, guys, I could have used it a few laps earlier!

But hey, Sheboygan knows who the cuttin' crew is now. and 40 bucks is 40 bucks. and I listened to 3 hours of Michael Jackson on the way home. Hooooooo!

Up, Down, Repeat

I seem to be climbing a lot of hills for a flatlander.

Despite the raucous crowd that comes with Snake Alley, Fox River Grove is more of a real crit and less of a sideshow attraction. You have a steep section, two stairsteps, a wide open downhill to attack while everyone's recovering, and a number of corners that you can take as hard as you can manage, after the traffic thins out. So many places to attack and be attacked.

The family came out for this one, and despite the, uh, logistical delays that come with that, I made it to line with all but a warmup.

I put it all in the first race, the Masters' 4/5s. To be more specific, I kept an eye on the lead group as best I could, tried to keep the HR under control, often losing plenty of spots spinning up the climb, and I attacked once on the climb mid-race when I sensed my group was reeling. That netted me a good 6-8 spots, and lifting the pace near the top got a few more here and there.

Other than losing sight of the leaders (not entirely unexpected), I managed to execute my one plan: on the final climb, shift two cogs up and pour on the power. Another 4-5 spots here, then caught 2-3 guys over the top. My teammate Mike was off in the distance, and had it been anyone else, I'd have mounted a stiffer chase. I was afraid I'd drag my two chasers right up to him in the final seconds of the race, so I hesitated a bit. I ended up ditching them and sprinting it out with him. He took 7th.

On Father's Day, my first without one, I finished 8th. His birthday was 8/8. Numbers are funny things, they let you see things where they might not be.

U-turn, hyperventilate, drink, gu up, take a gypsy shower, rip off a number and back at it. I'm starting to perversely enjoy this back-to-back crit routine. My teammates make me feel like I've got a pit crew.

The 4/5s: I was a little bummed to hear they'd be aggressively pulling lapped riders. I don't have a single DNF on my resume, and I don't want one today. I start easy, letting the leaders ride off, and I'm left with a quiet battle with my heart rate. I gain and lose spots. I have no idea where I finished.

But the best part of the day was, of course, having the fam on hand. I didn't have to drag them across the state, no soccer games, no birthday parties, just Supermom and the kids walking the course, cheering me on here and there. My favorite souvenir is the hand-painted sign: Go Dad Neurohr!

Best Day Ever (on 2 wheels)

One year ago this weekend I unpacked my first proper geared road bike, and this year I was in the Tour de France. Sorta.

Snake Alley, 2009
Sometimes life ties you up. No racing for the last 6 weeks, and not a lot of training miles either (not to mention there are no Snake-like hills in these parts). Couple that with the fact that I haven't been built like a manorexic climber since age 23 or so, and let's just say I didn't have high hopes for Snake Alley. What can you do? There are no real tactics, it's just...go hard, climb, bomb the downhill, pedal through a few turns, repeat. Try not to bonk.

I mostly raced about 1% inside my red zone, which was the plan, but I finished two spots out of the money in 17th, whatev. Max had a mechanical and Mike finished in 8th. His magic climbing beans are continuing to pay off this year. (Molly cramped, toppled, rubbed it out and got back in, and in the 3s, Al worked his way from 45th to 12th, 8 of those spots on the last lap.)

So if you're not going to be a factor in a race, I figured, you may as well not be a factor in two. It's a long drive for only 40 minutes of racing. While it's not uncommon to double up, it's not something that a lot of people do at Snake Alley, save maybe the Masters/Pros looking for another paycheck. And they generally don't do it back to back.

So minutes after my race, the Masters are cued up, looking especially sparkling and fresh, and I'm dumping ice water over my head and trying to control the hyperventilation. I get to the line looking like hell...well, let's just say it's not pretty. The whistle goes and I'm off the back. Whatev.

So here's where the day starts to get fun. On my next trip up the snake, amid a few comments of "that guy's already dropped on the first lap? ouch"...I get to the Cuttin' Crew's Couch Corner, ride through a row of high fives, maybe pull a wheelie for a microsecond, and the Crew is going nuts. Within a couple laps, about three switchbacks full of fans are in on the fact that I'm rolling back to back races, and they are pouring it on.

If you've never heard a deafening crowd chanting "A-VI! A-VI! A-VI!" You should try it sometime, with your own name, of course. I was laughing out loud at how ridiculous it was, throwing wheelies when they called for them. I had fans inches from my face, yelling GET UP THERE and a guy in antlers with a flag running me over the crest. In short order I was lapped by the leaders, and I wonder what they must have thought as they were climbing the hill, and the crowd was going insane for...who? Somebody later told me you could hear it from the start/finish, three blocks away.

What to say about this? 22 laps up the Snake. Best day of racing ever. Teams are good for a lot of things, but when they are inciting a near riot on your behalf...well, you just don't get that anywhere. So first and foremost, this is for them.

I'd love to cover Super Crit but...

I'm a little fuzzy on the details. I'll try:

Pre-race:
Ella skips the clinic, we do half a lap, her mission is accomplished. It would have been nice to clock some more, maybe jump in the juniors race, but it's in the 30s, and she's done. She spends the day hanging out with Molly on the bus, and Uncle Stan teaches her all sorts of colorful new words. On the plus side, after a day with the guys on the bus, she no longer considers me stinky, even after 4 races.

Race 1, 4/5 Killer Bs
Andrew makes it into a break of 4, I block. The break can't get it together to share the load, he has back to back pulls, somebody kicks it up, and as a result, he gets dropped. I chase them hard, everyone lets me, but they stay away. Bunch sprint for 9th.

Race 2, Masters' 30+ 4/5
Mike and I line up. I can't remember much about this one. I win a prime, the one I wanted, for a chain. Try to stay out with a xxx'er, but it doesn't happen. They have 20 teammates in the field, but they want their own glory apparently? You never know with xxx. I think I soaked up a bunch for 17th, I can't remember how Mike does, but it's well ahead of me.

Race 3, Elite 4/5
A couple minutes of rest, gu, fluid, and back at it. I'm dying for 3-4 laps but somehow get stronger. I start patrolling the front and let Max slip off with another rider. The other guy fades but a new guy gets in, then another. 3 could stay out, but they fight for a prime (which wasn't even awarded, since it was only for the field!) and they fade. A xxx'er goes for a late prime solo, gets it, I chase him down since there's one lap to go, but when we catch him 2 xxx'ers counter and stay out for the win. oh, NOW they work as a team.

Race 4, Elite 3/4
Fast and pressing, the sleet starts coming. 55 minutes. I'm totally NAF for this one. Not A Factor. I barely hang on at a couple points. I'm just going for a start and a pack finish to count towards a Cat 3 upgrade, and I miraculously make it.

I have nothing left, but then why is my body kicking me out of bed at 5 am? Stupid, stupid body.

rinse, lather, repeat

Half Acre - Kevin's Crits 4/5

Thursday.
Check the team site for today's update. We've got some sexy results.
chicagocuttincrew.com

On a personal note, eh: I attacked at the gun and went a lap or two. Nobody chased. I guess I'm not much of a threat! I was bored, itching to go, and I just wanted to kick start it, and maybe get the pack going and burn off the weaker part of the field. I did this a lot. Most people didn't care, some other people tried the same thing. After a while I just played, attack, fade, recoup a few spots. Perhaps it was the lack of mighty headwinds, but the pack didn't panic over any attacks, and they all came back.

Eventually I rested, tried to link up with teammates for some kind of train, but at one to go, the whole bunch was pretty much intact, and I was waiting to get swarmed again, after burning so many matches playing games. I certainly didn't get swarmed, but I didn't exactly make it close enough to contest the sprint either, an improvement, though I only pulled 17th. Still, my late game is getting better.

If only I could race three nights a week all the time, I might get somewhere. Possibly keeled over.

getting the kinks out

Half Acre Crit Series

Wednesday
I skipped this one, so technically it shouldn't even be here, but since I've accidentally become the source of news for my team this week, here goes nothing:

Mike suits up for the third consecutive day. He cannot be stopped. Unfortunately, his bike can, and is, by a flat just a couple laps before the finish.

Brean has a "new" bad ankle to keep his mind off his "old" bad ankle, and hasn't been training much, but he decides to give it a go nonetheless. An early race mechanical suddenly leaves him with the nose of his saddle pointed south, and he spends the rest of the race mostly on the bars.

A few breaks try, nothing sticks, and with 3 to go, a couple guys get away for good, with Dave ? from xXx taking the win. Brean hangs in the sprint for 13th.

Mike was last seen coming up with a plan to convert the bus into a street sweeper before Thursday's race.

dodging the storm

Half Acre Crit Series

Tuesday
Fast as hell, cuttin' crew missed the break, chased for 5-6 laps to get back in, I burn out, Jeff and Mike made it in. The sweetest words I've ever heard: "they made the break" and I sit up and coast in the field. Ernie sees the 'lap of death' look on Jeff's face and drops him. Jeff gets collected with the remains of the field, including me. Mike gets a flat, Stan flies like the wind to get another off the bus, Mike rejoins the lead group...and flats. He's out. Jeff and I in a loose pack of eight. I try to protect/pull Jeff the last half lap, off to the side a bit in a crosswind, but it doesn't work out, turns out he doesn't need me anyway. He cleans the bunch sprint, I finish four spots back.