one door closes, another one opens

Jaysus what a weekend. The basics:

Masters' Track State Champs. I was targeting the kilo, but not enough to actually try out different gear inches or get some quality advice. I spun out and got second place. arg. Normally I wouldn't be too upset about not winning, but the field was thin and I had lots more in the tank. So I went into the 3k pursuit with a little fire in my belly, but no pacing strategy. Somehow I pulled a 3:59, about a half second up on Chuck Judy. I was convinced he had it in the bag. I would have thought the officials would've grouped us a little more on account of the small field, but hey, 40-44 was almost the same field that 40-49 would have been. Good thing they didn't go totally by the rulebook, or the day would have possibly been rounded to 30+ and Jeff Whiteman would have won everything. It seemed like the big boys stayed home to rest for Nats, and somehow "Masters' 40-44 3k State Champ" just doesn't exactly blow your hair back, but I'll take it.

Meanwhile back in Gotham city, Ella got 2nd in the Chicago Triathlon, out of 152 in her division! Woot! Nearly last out of the water (they really ought to call the kids' ChiTri swim "water-jogging"). 3rd after a killer T1, then grabbed one spot in the run. The winner was even in sight, but with a little too much ground to make up.

Lang did his first 'real' soccer games, and man, trial by fire: 4 games in two days, in the heat, and up against some psycho suburban teams. He got a hefty plaque. I'm proud of him. He was working hard and having fun, and just givin' er. Soccer gets so little ink in this family, and he had a couple of great moves, a header or two, a couple reverses. Awesome.

Relay cross: I was slated to partner with Jannette, but after her crash, I got a shot at racing with Ella for the first time. She was a little spooked by the triple-bend/harbor drop/couch madness, but started to shine mid-first lap. The whirlpool taught her how to lean into the turns more than I'd been able to. We somehow finished 35th of 50, but more importantly, I had the best time ever at a cross race, and that's saying something. She was slightly shell shocked for a while, but she's definitely down for doing more cross. Hup! Hup!

Mom was domestique to the stars. Gotta go serve her up a vacation.

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.

1,000 words

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.

Recent Results Roundup

Cat 5s got a couple of races on Thursday night at Northbrook a couple weeks back. I was two days off my hat trick at Kenosha and was hoping to keep the streak alive. I cleaned up the 6 lap Tempo, getting top points three times and maybe a second place to seal the deal.

I wasn't crazy about my chances in the scratch, but I was in a great spot with three to go so I told Brian 'youngblood' Ellison to grab my wheel and just laid it down. Turns out he got squeezed out by the big man, mister David Jones, and with his teammates soft pedaling we had the gap. I gotta get better at watching what's behind me, as I just dragged him around for an easy win. Still, I won the 'omnium' and he's a good guy and sometimes you like to see a good guy get a win.

A week off then back to K-town for my debut as a 4. It wasn't *too* much different, but the events weren't my style. I played the Danish by ear and got third, which is exactly the best I could've hoped for, given the competition. I was feeling sluggish in the Masters' 4/5 miss n' out and it showed. I was the victim of a rotten call and got pulled early, but mostly it made me realize that I need to stop being lazy and swap cogs for that event.

I jumped into the 30+ unknown and rode at 101% MHR for half the race. Holy shit. Kinda covered about 65% of the dangerous moves, and was close to staying out with a guy at one point, but died on the vine, and naturally, there went the bell. I hung on for 6th. Turns out it's only for 3s or better. I suspected that but wanted to try it out nonetheless, and they didn't stop me.

The 4s miss n' out was two heats later and I was forgettable, pretty much telegraphing my doom a few laps in.

I had been looking forward to the mini-main, a 25 lap points race, and was feeling a little bummed to have burned so many matches already. Spencer, a Baraboo shark who schooled most of us at the Iowa state champs, was there. He pretty much rode away and only two of us could really put in a chase. I wasn't feeling great but it turned out everyone else was feeling worse by the third sprint. I somewhat-inadvertently pulled Nico into some points while I was trying to chase the leader and when he faded I jumped and rode solo into a couple sets of second place points, and finally caught Spencer. He hawked me for the prime and the final points, but that wasn't too surprising, and I was happy to come home with second. Well, sorta happy. Not to play the sandbagger card, but if you can ride solo off the front for 80% of a 4/5 race, I think you might be ready for the 3s. Not that I mind though, I think it's good to have it a little tougher for everyone.

A decent night all around. Jeff went up a lap (again!) in a hundred lap points race, Nordyke was looking healthy and strong, finishing 10th, and all the 4/5s that rode the Cuttin Cruiser hit the podium. (It should be said that my Masters race and the main event were likely a bit easier on account of some big guns being out for Superweek.)

Tonight: Soldier Field crit on Bastille Day! With five teammates! This should be interesting the day after five track events, as in HR = max, watts = lame.

batting .750

I'm starting to find social media a little vainglorious, but I started this thing, and come this far, so I may as well celebrate on my little corner of the Internet: Last night in Kenosha, I won three straight races! Yeah, it's only an upgrade to cat 4, but I wasn't sandbagging, I promise! I asked about it last week and they said...we'll see.

Cat 5 500 M chariot: Pole spot, Al Urbanski as my holder, giving me advice. Wire to wire out front. This is not an event I ever expect to win in higher categories.

Masters' 4/5 Points race: A couple of stupid attacks, then a couple of better-timed attacks to get 2-3 of us on a break. I was tied with the stronger of two breakmates on points, and with under 3 to go, he finished his pull and I attacked, and stayed away for the win.

Cat 5 Points race: Kind of the same story. Two of us escaped, traded pulls, fairly even on points, so I took top points once and for good measure, escaped with a couple to go to take the final batch.

They called me over the loudspeaker to the table, and the field went "ooooo" like I was called to the Principal's office. I thought, uh was I a little squirelly in the sprinter's lane or something? but no, they informed me I'd just done my last race as a cat 5. First time I've been upgraded like that. Finished the night getting 3rd in the 4/5 scratch, and spent my winnings on a Washington Park Velodrome T-shirt and a cheeseburger. Good times in Wisco.

PRs for all

On a whim, I decided to race the 5k in the "Ricky Byrdsong Race Against Hate" up in Evanston. I was going to pace Ella but at the starting line, she hooked up with a friend from soccer and gave me the "please disappear" treatment. On Father's Day, no less!

So I decided to gun it and I was feeling pretty good somehow. I kept passing people and when I thought about settling in with a little pack, I thought, Jedi-style: "this is not my race, my race is up ahead." I hit the two mile mark at 14 minutes and I was pretty happy with that. I finally got passed by someone, a shirtless tri dude who looked legit. I drafted him into the final 1000 meters. Turned out he was running with two guys, one of whom he called "coach." Coach edged ahead and I jumped into his quoute/unquote draft, saving it for the sprint. Turns out I was running outside of my pace already, and this guy just started to build speed and I couldn't hang on. A third buddy of theirs took off with 500 to go, like I'd hoped to, but I was already on the edge. I held off tri guy though.

21:17! That's crazy! I've never really run that distance before and playing games with those guys gave me a 6:30 final mile. I ended up 5th in my age group, 56th/1294. I'll take it.

Ella and her friend got boxed into a crowd and never got out. They came in just under 27 minutes, two minutes off her PR, but I suspect that it might have done them a favor to pace them. It was funny to hear her afterward squawking about her eight and half minute pace, saying she hoped to hold seven and a half. She's ten. I still don't know how to figure out my pace until I look at the clock afterwards. Turns out she got 6th in U14. I smell the podium next year. An hour later she paced a 4th grader in the mile like it was nothing. What's up with these kids? I didn't have any sort of athletic achievements until I was in my 30s.

Lang also knocked two minutes off his PR, finishing the mile in just under ten minutes. He came up with his own little pacing strategy too. I've told him stopping is just bad news, but walking fast works. He'd run until he couldn't run anymore, then slow down to a fast walk, count out loud to five, then run again. Doing this three times got him through. It was pretty cool to see him figure that stuff out without me just telling him the whole time "keep it up, almost done, looking good..."

Good Times, Mediocre Times

There were a lot of racing options this weekend. Oddly, the weather looked like two of them would get rained out, but the OTHER one got dumped on. I think all velodromes should have a semi-permanent cyclocross course on hand, the first drop of rain and they shut it down, and your pre-race gameplan is all for nought.

Friday night racing at Northbrook: I'm still working on 10 starts for my upgrade, so I made it out for the first 'official' Friday night. Lightly attended with 14 elites and four juniors, but hey, it's still racing.

Five lap Tempo: I think I got top points three times, including the last lap, plus a second place and a prime. Win!

Unknown: Hassled the field with a solid tempo, attacked for a prime and stayed out for three laps around the 12 lap mark. Ring that bell! They didn't. I got caught. THEN they rang the bell. Salvaged it to come around to 3rd place.

20 lap points race: I took top points every time, and both primes. Game over.

I won the Omnium and walked away with $35. It's been a while since I've come out ahead at a race. It's also been a while since that cat 5 season when I came home with a prize for the kids almost every time, so it's nice to do that again.

Saturday, Ella opted out of Sherman Park and so did I. She wasn't at full energy, the weather was shaping up to be crap, and frankly, she wasn't really jazzed at the prospect of riding another TT as the only ten-year-old girl in the field, especially after they started a single 10-18s field at Monsters. Can't say I blame her. We'll find some appropriate competition for her one of these days.

Sunday was the Iowa Track State Championships (held in Kenosha, the closest track). I wasn't at full strength, but it was a solid day of firsts nonetheless. First flying 200: 13.62. First Kilo: 120:2. First 4k Pursuit: 5:38. First 'sanctioned' Match Sprint: 4th/8. First 'long' Points race: 60 laps! My times were thoroughly mediocre, but I finally got to clock some laps in the x-wing bars, a bit jarring on the fast bumpy track up there.

I won a solid match sprint, then went against Jeff, which was awesome, but I couldn't really imagine under what circumstances I could win. I attacked at the whistle...nope, he reeled me in. Thought about razoring, but he pushed me uptrack, bumping elbows at 20+ mph. I didn't really know what I was doing but I figured he was trying to school me on how the big boys do it, so I bumped back. Then he just ditched me with 200 m to go.

The points race was a bloodbath. 60 laps and maybe 7-8 riders. Lots of attacks, nowhere to hide. Technically it was a 3/4/5 race but Liam is practically a cat 2 in two disciplines and one of the racers was 50+, so there just wasn't anywhere to sit in, though Jeff hung back and helped me out for points when I lost the front of the race. I was hoping to just ride Liam's wheel for second, but this Iowa junior (and de facto State Champ) was sweeping up second place points. My attacks to drop him didn't pan out and I rode myself out of it. I finished third.

The junior, 50+, and organizer were the only Iowa residents so all three went home with medals. One little bonus: so many medals went unawarded, that two Silvers turned up laying around on the infield, so the kids did score a couple of souvenirs after all.

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.

and on Tuesday there was Track

And it was good.

First sanctioned track event, not too bad, racing 5 & Masters' 30+ in Kenosha. Highlights:
Qualified for the Kilo Sprint final in 2nd
3rd in the the Kilo Sprint Final
Win in the Masters' 30+ 4/5 unknown distance! (uh yeah, pretty small field, but still, it was a win, and I played it pretty well if I say so myself. Attack, counter, repeat, get lucky and hear the bell while I'm out front with a gap.)

Kinda cooked but still plenty of attacks in the 4/5 unknown, I don't really remember. I probably attacked a lot but ended up doing too much work. Story of my life.

Consolation 20 lap scratch: Started kinda patient, chased down a two man Pegasus break halfway through. Dragged the field around and got swarmed in the sprint, in large part because I mistook the lapping leader's bell for our own. Oops.

Still fun. I spent a good 20 laps throughout the night pulling, mostly in vain. Makes for a good workout, but not great results. Still, it's early in the season, and the legs felt good. We'll see.

Velo-City 5

This is becoming my favorite event. I picked up a Roadie magazine around 5 years ago with a rundown of the first one, simply put: Messengers Hit the Track. It's grown to a nationwide series thanks to Squid and CycleHawk, but it's still kind of a 'get to know ya' event for riders who have never put their mad skillz around the banks of a velodrome. It's free (you even get a free tube, so you come out ahead) and as long as you don't simultaneously drink and race, raucous behavior is encouraged. It's still 'real' racing, but it's a welcome break from the usual scene. This year my team hosted the event at Kenosha's Washington Park velodrome, with separate divisions for messengers and citizens.

I wasn't expecting too much, as this only was my second actual track event, but I came away with zipka last year, so I wanted to show stronger than that. When I saw four Pegasi in my field, I thought, great, they're gonna have all kinds of plans. Add in the fact that last year's messenger winner, Al Urbanski, wasn't eligible for the messenger field, and it looked like trouble: a cat two and two cat threes (Ted Burger & Andrew Yeoman) in my field.

The schedule included match sprints (top two advance in the first couple rounds, then 1v1 for the last two), a 10 lap scratch, and a 20 lap points race. There was also an open/exhibition miss & out.

I got through the first round of two-lap match sprints, then drew Burger and Yeoman. I had a plan for going against a stronger, more experienced rider, but not against TWO. I didn't select a very smart lane, faked, went uptrack, and got to bumping elbows with Burger. I knew we were way too focused on each other, and I should have said something to Ted because Yeoman was just sitting back watching us play games. He took off with 200 to go and it was over. Ted was the only one with either the power or the position to get him. eh, not my kind of event anyway.

The scratch was ok, I knew the field would sort itself out so I tried to be patient. In the sprint, Al Urbanski was gone, Burger was chasing him, Jake Blaze (a fellow cat 5 :) had been third wheel but couldn't match those two, so my race was to outkick him for third. I had it in the bag and at the last second Yeoman flew past me, but not in time. Whew. That'll teach me to pull up when I think I have my man. He came out of nowhere, and I thought he had me for sure.

I was *really* looking forward to the 20 lap points race. I don't start too hard, and I don't really have a true sprinter's finish, but I love to suffer in between. I had a plan. Unfortunately I got boxed in three laps in and fought my way out in the wind just in time to get swarmed on the first points lap. I was almost DFL but was biding my time anyway (a little too much biding in retrospect). I set about leapfrogging 2-3 riders at a time to get up there. Team Pegasus more or less took the first batch of points, then Al attacked. Burger, Blaze, and scraps of Pegasus became the lead group. They realized what Al was doing and started chasing. It was kind of a blur for me because I just chased for lap after lap. I almost had them at 10 to go but they ramped it up again for the points lap. At five to go, same thing, but they sprinted later and rested faster, seemingly content to just let Al go. I caught them easily, and I wasn't really feeling great. I didn't want to get up there just to get burned on the final sprint so I just rode through. I don't know how but I BLASTED through and I heard "What? Where did HE come from?" Ted was just finishing a pull and I thought for sure Yeoman would get my wheel but I looked back and saw nobody.

Four to go and I'm chasing Al. Trevor Rolette, (a junior from ADT, and Al's new teammate) had been motopacing earlier and had jumped into this race, gotten dropped, and now Al was pacing him so he could stay only one lap down. I caught them just in time for the final lap. Al went, Trevor couldn't match it, and I hammered to finish within about a length of Mister Urbanski (of course I was "sprinting" and he was looking over his shoulder holding me off). Even though I only scored three measly points for 17 laps of work, that was my favorite part of the day. I think I found my favorite track event. Hard to believe it was only a four mile race, it took me longer to write it up than to race it.

The miss & out was open to mess and nonmess, for no omnium points. Only 11 people opted in as it was late in the day. Al drilled it at the front, I was going to take turns with him, but Burger came up and did it for me. I still had a tankful when it was down to five of us. Jake started to come past me and I was boxed in and Brian Ellison came around the outside so I got 5th. Just a brain fart there, plus I'm still a bit nervous on the track, so I don't glance back as much as I ought to for this kind of race.

Good times. I was hoping not to get hawked here and there by a couple of experienced cat four riders, and I mostly didn't. The final standings in non-messenger were: Al Urbanski, with Ted and Andrew tied for second, and me in fourth. I'll take that. Blaze was the dark horse of the day, you'd never know it was like his second day of track racing, and he finished just behind me in fifth. Should be an interested summer, if I can just convince my bones to get used to midweek night racing.

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.

WWJVD?

Flatlandia Kermesse, 2010.

I need more races like this. It sucked working so hard to get into position and see swarms passing me across the centerline, hiding in the draft of those of us following the rules, but whatever, there's already too much grousing in bike racing, so I'm not gonna add to it. It was shaping up to be a long day. The first run through the dirt and the fun began. Bodies off the road for no good reason, to the left and right, a few piled up ahead of me. The pack responded with heat but within a couple minutes, gassers were leaving gaps everywhere.

It wasn't hard to leapfrog my way near the front, and the longer it went on, the more I was thinking...oh this is good, the 'cross racers were moving up no problem. I was still with some semblance of a lead group back on the road and it got fast. Turn onto section two and it was strung out long. I was making up ground again, but trying not to get ahead of my HR, and...hisssssss. I joined the half dozen guys flatting out.

Waiting for the wheel van I realized how well I'd been doing, with at least fifty guys passing me before I got a wheel, but now I was at the back again. Back in it for a couple minutes, and hisssss. Another one. Two flats in two minutes, so I rounded out my base training with more or less a 50 mile solo TT.

Second time through the long gravel section I pulled a ton of guys through the whole thing, I wanted to be up front to keep an eye on the line to stay away from sharp rocks, and I'm not gonna play games over pulling through when we're battling for 80th place here. My front wheel was a 700x20 track wheel and I never thought I'd make it. Needless to say, once we got back on the road, they rode off eventually but that was fine with me. I caught up with newly-wed Molly and chatted for a bit before snapping myself back into race mode. Every time I passed near the s/f I thought I should just pull in, because there's no way this skimpy track tire will make it...but I thought "What Would Jens Voigt Do?" Needless to say, I soldiered on. I may not have any stellar results yet this season, but I still don't have any DNFs next to my name, ever.

Yeah, it burned looking at the results and seeing the top ten filled with my 'cross dogs, but hey, that's bike racing.

Hillsboro-Roubaix 2010

Screw the bible, I'm going back to overtraining and the single speed. At least my moribund results were offset by my ability to wrestle alligators.

Not much to report, way off form. Not sure why, but I'd say this was my poorest result ever, a title previously held by doubling up the morning after Karaoke Cross at Indian Head. I was dropped 20 miles in, and despite the siren's song of the Cuttin' Couch at the midpoint, I kept on, soldiering for a 38 mile TT. Lowlights included:
-Watering the crops of Litchfield whilst on the bike, mid-race. A first for me.
-10 straight minutes at 96% MHR, nearly catching the main field again.

Disappointing results were softened by a 5 hour bus ride with Stag beer, several thousand calories, and being smushed on a couch with 13 stinky friends, trading stories.

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.

shameless plug

It's been a slow year. Not a lot to report from 2010, save the mundane training and daydreams of the coming season, but I had to put this out there somewhere.

In April 1990 I set out to get my first messenger job in Boston. I poked around for a proper bag, but none of the bike shops had anything, but everyone pointed me to the same place: CourierWare in Cambridge. A little pricey at $100, but I walked out with a handmade bag and a "lifetime" guarantee.

7-8 years on the job, a couple years traveling the world, many sixers and twelves, fetching diapers, groceries, ten years of plain old commuting, until February 2010: I'm down to three of the original seven pockets.

I mail it in to CourierWare, now somewhere up in Vermont, and two weeks later, bam: repaired, totally gratis, and back on the job. That's two months shy of twenty years, still under warranty. Holla.

2009 in a nutshell

Finishin Kevin's training crit at top speed, in the dark
The "four-peat" at Supercrit
Clawing back to the pack in Hillsboro
Hearing my name chanted up the hill at Snake Alley
Track debut: A hella bridge to the leaders at Kenosha, not much else
Top ten at Fox River Grove
How many thousands of feet of climbing at Blue Mounds?
9 laps solo in Sheboygan, caught on the bell lap
Top tens at Evanston and Holy Hill
Crashing and finishing at Arlington Heights
Several forgettable crits
Chasing down the break at Soldier Field
Trying in vain to create a break at Soldier Field
Five lanes wide at the Chicago Crit
Foolishly doubling up at the Road State Championships
New cross bike, crappy finish at Jackson Park
First win: Single Speed Cyclocross State Champ!
Top ten for my "birthday race" at Carpentersville
Indian Head: hot tub, karaoke, racing hungover, totally worth it
State CX Champs: pancakes, beer, grillables, Jordan, top ten finish, Bradley's faceplant, too many friends to say goodbye to.

123 days until Hillsboro.

Sometimes a race is more than a race.

2009 has been rough. It started well enough, sitting in an ale house with a few teammates, with our newly sworn in president's inaugural ball in the background. For a change, we were determined to talk about anything except bikes. Good times.

That night, my father woke up with pressure in his chest. Within 18 hours, a small tear in his aorta had, in the doctor's words, "opened up like a zipper" and he was gone.

The following week, I lived in a hotel in Michigan, sorting things out. I spent a lot of time on the exercise bike, sorting my own things out, the only way I knew how. One day I held 350 watts for 30 minutes. My offseason plan peaked then and there, I never matched that feat again.

If you think it's hard to put yourself in the pain cave, imagine that when you get there, the first thing on your mind is, "What exactly is my heart doing right now? Is it good or bad for me?" We all have to suffer loss at one point or another, and we all have to figure out how to get through it. Little by little, I bounced back in different ways; you get through life, and I pushed myself a little harder, without the question marks looking back at me from the heart rate monitor.

You do what you have to do. I raced, a lot. Probably too much. Results weren't really the goal, but at some point, you get tired of discovering all the factors working against you. I'm not young, I'm not a sprinter, I don't have a lot of time, I don't have hills. When cross season comes, I may not win, but I can settle some scores. I'm certainly not a ringer out there, but it's nice to see some top roadies ten, twenty spots behind mine in the results.

I built up a solid cross bike, and for the first time ever, with ten whole speeds to choose from, though I ended up using two or three max. Word gets out that there will be an "Officially Unofficial" single speed cyclocross state championship. I'm thinking about this race more than I'll let anyone know.

I know that no one is owed a win in this world, and I'm lucky to have a fantastic family, great friends, a solid job, some change to spend on candy for the bikes...but god dammit, it's been long enough. I know it's just a little sub-category of a bastard discipline on two wheels, but single speed cyclocross is what I am. I don't want to win. I want to stamp my authority on it, to leave it a race for second, and post up without looking back. Barring that, I don't mind losing to a better man (god knows there are a couple guys lurking out there that can do the job). I just didn't want to fuck it up.

There were two sides of this race. The race report is one, and this is the other.

Campione di Stato!

2009 Illinois State Road Race Championships


I overcooked my road season, completing 26 races by August 1st. I thought I was done, but the late season championship couldn't be missed. Despite little training time, a bike that limped through the end of the season, and cyclocross on the brain, I pulled one more out.

Or should I say two?

With a season that kicked off with four crits in one day, I couldn't help myself, I had to finish it with a pair of 40 mile road races.

Not much to report on a personal note. I didn't do much to prep for this, so I thought I'd just get in and see what happens. As the day got closer, a bunch of teammates were coming out of the woodwork to race the 4s, and I started to wonder if I should save it and just do one? I'd already registered, and I don't have a single DNF in my resume, and I didn't want a DNS.

So, first race: Masters' 30+ 4/5. Slow race, made slower by getting neutralized twice. Lots of complaints in the pack, but a couple of us had called it from the get-go. That's what happens when nobody turns up the heat. I slipped back from the leaders at the foot of the final climb, but stayed in my plan: spin out through 2/3rds of the hill, stand and big ring it for the final kick. It worked, and it got me a lot closer to the contenders, but not among them. 17th.


(In between, we watched Christina get second place in the 4s. Woohoo!)

Next up, cat 4 men. With 7 of us in the mix, we had lots of plans. Or as some WWII General once said, "Plans are useless, planning is indispensable." Stay up front, stay out of trouble, keep a few guys taking turns in the front to keep the pace honest, carry the aegis as the biggest team on the course, and get into position in the miles approaching the final turn. It's not rocket science, but it's one thing to see it on TV, another to pull it off.

I was mostly recovering in the back row, maybe I spent a lap nearing the front, but the final miles had me far from the action. The narrow road, the centerline rule (enforced by the caravan of oncoming 50 mph traffic), and generally having 75 miles in the legs made it impossible for me to be part of the magic, but here's how it went down:

Max was third wheel making the final turn, with no fewer than five teammates in his wake. He did a little kick, then it was on to Daryl, our good luck charm (he rarely gets out since his daughter came along, but he picks good days to do it). Mike took a turn as we came to the midpoint of the hill, no small affair considering he too was doing his second race of the day. Mike get special points for cracking the top ten in the first race AND contributing to the second. After Mike it was down to the final three:

Andrew, Perkins, and Al Pearson, our newest teammate. We can't have two Als, so we christened him Roadhouse. It fits, as he's built like half messenger, half bouncer. It was his first race as a 4, but Perkles was convinced he had the strongest kick, so he was the end of the line.

Unfortunately he touched wheels with Perkins and went down. Hopefully, his nickname won't be Roadrash for long. Andrew heard the carnage and knew he had to hit it, then and there. It was earlier than the spot they marked, but you have to strike while the iron is hot. He goes. Rooster usually doesn't yield an inch of his wheel, but maybe the jump caught him off guard, but he caught back on in a couple seconds. on? ON! and go go go go until there's nothing left in Candles' tank. Andrew starts to fade into the final pitch and Rooster just hammers. I guess his three "big ring" victories at the track last Thursday conditioned him well, because he was gone. He started to fade at the apex, stole a glance to see if a postup was possible...no way, shadow approaching FAST. He dug it out and threw hard to take it by a length.

Man I love this team. Life threw me some curveballs (and hammers, and kitchen sinks) this past year and I countered with 28 races. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it just added to the mix, but even if I turned out to be the only teammate NOT in the train, still, it feels good to be part of this.









The good photo is courtesy of Luke, naturally. The bad ones are courtesy of my phone. Somebody on this team has to start carrying a camera.

at least somebody in the family's getting a podium finish this summer

Ella competed in the South Shore Tri-Masters Triathlon this past weekend. It's a fun one. Totally relaxed, with an emphasis on introducing urban kids to the sport, so the high strung "stage parents" aren't as prevalent.

This was Ella's fifth triathlon. One of my favorite parts of watching them is that, after the first couple events, you're completely out of the picture. Soccer, you're there, and you try not to be a lunatic on the sideline (some don't bother trying), but at halftime you sneak over and give her some tips. Swimming...less so, but you're there, and you can still follow up after the fact. With a triathlon, you really have to let go, and it can be tough. It doesn't escape me that this is a metaphor big enough to beat you over the head with: I've done my job, I have to let go, I can't hold her hand or talk her through it, and I can't keep the haters from trying to bring her down.

I've seen little shits (always boys) looking back over their shoulders, trying to block anyone from passing them, threatening to cause a pileup of bikes. I suspect she enjoys being out of sight for the same reasons, an escape from the threat of instruction. I'm not the most experienced triathlete, but what can you do? You look at the map, you talk through the whole thing, thinking about it, visualizing it, and you help her get her crap to the transition area. Then you go to the beach and dance.

There's always music, an emcee, a bunch of nervous kids, and depending on the venue, a healthy cadre of ubercoach parents. Somewhere along the way, I told her it's a rule you have to dance before the start. It works, though she usually stomps on my feet or flings sand at me instead.

They're off and she's in the front row of 30 girls. She's out of the water 9th, slips through to nip a spot in the run to T1, then about 6th to begin the bike. Only a handful of girls have proper road bikes, and these are her only real competition: 905 is out first on the bike by a long way. 931, her teammate, is a spot or two back, but she's crying and looking around for somebody. She doesn't find them but it doesn't stop her from motoring away on the bike. Another road biker, a couple of bmx-ers (one of them is HUGE, she looks 12!) then Ella. I call out "three road bikes ahead of you!" and my coaching job is done.

She finishes up the bike in almost the same place. She's a long way back from third, so I figure she's out of the medals. The run is only a 1/4 mile, and I didn't think she could make up the ground. Even worse, the amazon girl on the bmx bike should be long gone, but she's right behind Ella! Ella's not exactly lightning in any one discipline, and this girl could pass her in three strides. I see them start the run, and it looks like my worries are unfounded. Ella starts to turn over rapid little rabbit steps, and bmx girl takes giant slow bounds, getting slower already. Off they go.

We wait in the final 50 meters and 905 comes in way ahead of any other girls. 931 has put her tears behind her, and is still in second. Is it possible that Ella ran her way into a medal? She comes in, still kicking hard, and just ahead of her is a boy half a head taller than her. He's looking back and pinning her into the boards; he won't let her pass. She slips through, he counters, they're bumping elbows 10 meters from the finish. She surges through again, and...he can't hang on! He fades and she pushes on through the line. I may not be able to see the whole thing, but I love the parts that I do get to see.

We weren't sure how she did, but sure enough, they called her up for a medal: female 7-10 years old overall (and she's only 9.) She was beside herself, but at the same time, on the way home: "I'm gonna win it next year."

Stay tuned. I promise we'll have a camera by then.