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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, July 20, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Superweek, continued: Holy Hill
Last year my chain skipped with every shift and I blame my 34th place on that, but really I was underprepared for such hills. Not to say I was any better this year, but I hoped that Snake Alley, Blue Mounds and Fox River Grove would count for something.
Lap 1: I feel ok, stay up front, out of trouble. Some junior goes off the front and no one cares but he's caught after 3/4 of a lap.
Lap 2: I see a lot of faders up the hill, so I attack over the top. I know it's easy to catch an escapee on a downhill, but I thought if a xXxer and 4-5 of us got away, we'd have blockers. No one responds. I keep a gap on the eastbound leg, but let myself get caught. For the next 5 miles, I press the pace, get hung out in the crosswind, and take too many pulls...the pack stretches out but no one lets a break happen. On the feed zone hill, my efforts catch up with me, I take it in the wrong gear and get swarmed and start to bonk. Shit. I barely keep pace up the hill, but the pace is steady, so I'm still in the pack.
Lap 3: Trying not to burn matches. Trying to recover, but really just drifting towards the tail end. The junior keeps attacking, but nobody ever goes with him, and nobody really panics, so he eventually comes back in.
Lap 4: More of the same. I keep thinking I feel like shit, and I'm gonna die on the hill, and I have to do it 2 more times. I make it over. I'm at the back, better to find spots to hide from crosswinds.
Lap 5: I'm the last guy in the pack...for the entire lap. 2, 3, 5 guys slip off, I leapfrog them to rejoin. Repeatedly. I'm thinking I'm fucked. The pack has gone from 60 to 40 but I'm still on. The follow car is right behind me, about to pass. At some point xXx Liam is off the front? Textbook xXx, but not my problem right now. The pace has been pretty solid, but nobody's panicking and the blocking doesn't seem to work. He's back in after a couple miles.
We hit the hill for the last time, and I'm waiting for the blitzkrieg. Everybody's dying and I just thank the fucking stars that I didn't get dropped 3 laps in like last year. I don't want to get stuck in a packlet of droppees, so I bury it and go from 40th to 30th. Over the top, again, I'm waiting for the blitz, but it's pretty limp. Everyone's dead. I hammer and get 5 more spots, make the turn, 5 more spots. We make the turn to the finish. I'm in 20th and there's a sprint in the distance that's not for me. I build speed for 300 meters up the hill and get 10 more spots. I finish 10th. It's not a W, but given the situation, fine with me!
The junior won it, and he deserved it, if only for the fact that I wish more people would race as aggressively as he did. Turns out his limited gearing was probably perfect for a climbing sprint. Note to self, when reporting results, it helps to know who the winner is. Oops.
The kids won't let me live it down when I don't win a little something for them, so the cheese castle kept some of my paycheck. Vive la road! Next year, less crits and more of this.
Lap 1: I feel ok, stay up front, out of trouble. Some junior goes off the front and no one cares but he's caught after 3/4 of a lap.
Lap 2: I see a lot of faders up the hill, so I attack over the top. I know it's easy to catch an escapee on a downhill, but I thought if a xXxer and 4-5 of us got away, we'd have blockers. No one responds. I keep a gap on the eastbound leg, but let myself get caught. For the next 5 miles, I press the pace, get hung out in the crosswind, and take too many pulls...the pack stretches out but no one lets a break happen. On the feed zone hill, my efforts catch up with me, I take it in the wrong gear and get swarmed and start to bonk. Shit. I barely keep pace up the hill, but the pace is steady, so I'm still in the pack.
Lap 3: Trying not to burn matches. Trying to recover, but really just drifting towards the tail end. The junior keeps attacking, but nobody ever goes with him, and nobody really panics, so he eventually comes back in.
Lap 4: More of the same. I keep thinking I feel like shit, and I'm gonna die on the hill, and I have to do it 2 more times. I make it over. I'm at the back, better to find spots to hide from crosswinds.
Lap 5: I'm the last guy in the pack...for the entire lap. 2, 3, 5 guys slip off, I leapfrog them to rejoin. Repeatedly. I'm thinking I'm fucked. The pack has gone from 60 to 40 but I'm still on. The follow car is right behind me, about to pass. At some point xXx Liam is off the front? Textbook xXx, but not my problem right now. The pace has been pretty solid, but nobody's panicking and the blocking doesn't seem to work. He's back in after a couple miles.
We hit the hill for the last time, and I'm waiting for the blitzkrieg. Everybody's dying and I just thank the fucking stars that I didn't get dropped 3 laps in like last year. I don't want to get stuck in a packlet of droppees, so I bury it and go from 40th to 30th. Over the top, again, I'm waiting for the blitz, but it's pretty limp. Everyone's dead. I hammer and get 5 more spots, make the turn, 5 more spots. We make the turn to the finish. I'm in 20th and there's a sprint in the distance that's not for me. I build speed for 300 meters up the hill and get 10 more spots. I finish 10th. It's not a W, but given the situation, fine with me!
The junior won it, and he deserved it, if only for the fact that I wish more people would race as aggressively as he did. Turns out his limited gearing was probably perfect for a climbing sprint. Note to self, when reporting results, it helps to know who the winner is. Oops.
The kids won't let me live it down when I don't win a little something for them, so the cheese castle kept some of my paycheck. Vive la road! Next year, less crits and more of this.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, June 26, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, June 22, 2009
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!
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!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Race of the Future
A couple TdFs back, I remember hearing the Versus commercials with the sound bite, "This isn't a bike race, it's a death march." That was running inside my head for Blue Mound, candidate for the 2016 Olympic road course. Welcome to the Queen's stage of the Tour of America's Dairyland.
I've had some horrible experiences on a bike over the years:
-stomping both feet ankle deep in icewater before riding through 20 degree temps, having to cut my icy shoelaces to get out of my shoes
-riding 130 hilly miles on a touring leg alone on a loaded bike, with a jar of nutella and no money
-riding to work with a windchill of -30, truly scared my extremities wouldn't make it without damage
-doing a 200km brevet on a fixed gear, 20mm tires, a carbon saddle, and zero training miles
Simply put, Blue Mound put them all to shame.
Lap one, cat 4/5, 50 starters. We take it easy, unsure of what lies ahead. Bomb through the downhills at 45+. At the first climb, the field shatters wide open.
Mike's in the lead group of 8 and they get a gap. I have no long road sessions and zero hill miles in my legs (I don't think Snake Alley really counts), so I'm lagging. With a lot of room to aggressively corner on the descents, I recover a few spots to find myself time trialing in 12th or so. My group of four is cooked. I either have to pull at 21mph or sit in at 19. I can't bring myself to sit in. We have yet to hit the real hill.
We hit the hill and hell begins in earnest. I can't tell you what really happened for a number of miles. My computer had inexplicably rebooted so I had no idea what mile we were on, and I'm not sure I wanted to know. We don't so much climb as scrape our souls up the pavement.
Match the riders ahead of you and you risk bonking with miles to go. Space out too much and find yourself alone. Nothing to do but just focus on the front wheel and my HR...161...175...somewhere in between... Looking ahead is a mistake, nothing but climb. Is that the last turn before the topout? Even the cheering fans on the hills are solemn. Cat 3s and women litter the course, some are retiring already. We are less than halfway into this race.
Rollers, we recover. We pick up Adam. He's been somewhere in the top ten, but now faded back to us. He hasn't trained much this spring, and hasn't raced at all. He rode a thousand miles around Lake Michigan in under two weeks, took a single rest day and suited up for this race. He's in the pack with us.
Again I pull too much, but I try to ease up a little more this time. We come together, maybe 10th-18th, we've picked up a few from behind us. No one's pushing it. I put in a few weak digs to thin the pack, but it doesn't thin as much as I'd hoped. We enjoy 50 mph on eight miles of downhills, but the hills come too soon. A couple go off the front, a couple off the back, none to be seen again. I'm in with three others, and we approach the mid-lap climb. One ditches us.
And on. We pick up Mike. This is not a good sign. He's a climber, suited for endurance races. This should be his day. He's been dropped by the lead group. Turns out his biggest cog is only a 23, and his legs are failing. He asks if I have a 25, and I consider giving him my wheel, but the fact is, it's been misbehaving, the chain twinkling on the spokes while torquing in my climbing gear...which is most of this race. I'm afraid stopping to swap wheels would mean the end of the day for both of us.
The penultimate climb comes. Can't remember from the map...one, two, three miles long? I am just mindlessly chewing up rpms now. I'm third of four in our group. Mike is out ahead, but cutting diagonals across the course. Red/white tails him, then me. Chronometro behind me. He'd told me he didn't have many matches left, but I keep waiting for him to pass me like everyone else has.
Mike pulls off and dismounts. I approach the feed zone, still on the climb, but after all this, it feels like a flat. Shift and hammer. I put away chronometro for good. Red/white is out ahead but pretty far. We approach the turn for the finish. He's probably written me off, and he's chasing Kristen from BH and another woman. They've been trading spots with us for a five miles. Sometimes they're so relaxed they look like they're on a cooldown ride; other times they bury us.
I downshift and go hard on the final pitch. Twenty meters separates me from red/white, then fifteen, but he sees me and my chance is gone. A little dig and he's on the flat, 150 meters to the line, and rides away.
I finish fifteenth. As always, I have to pat myself on the back with the "little" victories: Chronometro lives in the area, and has trained here a lot, and I still held him off. Nearly half the field abandoned, not to mention half the cat 3 field as well. Still, it stings to know I was riding inside the top ten for a spell.
Mike remounted and finished 19th. Al "I'm not much of a climber" Urbanski finished 6th in the 3s, but to be honest, at this point the only way Al could surprise us would be by sprouting wings. But the out-of-nowhere hero finish of the day belongs to Adam Clark: after a rather unorthodox training strategy, fading and recovering, he finished 7th!
Hero.
I've had some horrible experiences on a bike over the years:
-stomping both feet ankle deep in icewater before riding through 20 degree temps, having to cut my icy shoelaces to get out of my shoes
-riding 130 hilly miles on a touring leg alone on a loaded bike, with a jar of nutella and no money
-riding to work with a windchill of -30, truly scared my extremities wouldn't make it without damage
-doing a 200km brevet on a fixed gear, 20mm tires, a carbon saddle, and zero training miles
Simply put, Blue Mound put them all to shame.
Lap one, cat 4/5, 50 starters. We take it easy, unsure of what lies ahead. Bomb through the downhills at 45+. At the first climb, the field shatters wide open.
Mike's in the lead group of 8 and they get a gap. I have no long road sessions and zero hill miles in my legs (I don't think Snake Alley really counts), so I'm lagging. With a lot of room to aggressively corner on the descents, I recover a few spots to find myself time trialing in 12th or so. My group of four is cooked. I either have to pull at 21mph or sit in at 19. I can't bring myself to sit in. We have yet to hit the real hill.
We hit the hill and hell begins in earnest. I can't tell you what really happened for a number of miles. My computer had inexplicably rebooted so I had no idea what mile we were on, and I'm not sure I wanted to know. We don't so much climb as scrape our souls up the pavement.
Match the riders ahead of you and you risk bonking with miles to go. Space out too much and find yourself alone. Nothing to do but just focus on the front wheel and my HR...161...175...somewhere in between... Looking ahead is a mistake, nothing but climb. Is that the last turn before the topout? Even the cheering fans on the hills are solemn. Cat 3s and women litter the course, some are retiring already. We are less than halfway into this race.
Rollers, we recover. We pick up Adam. He's been somewhere in the top ten, but now faded back to us. He hasn't trained much this spring, and hasn't raced at all. He rode a thousand miles around Lake Michigan in under two weeks, took a single rest day and suited up for this race. He's in the pack with us.
Again I pull too much, but I try to ease up a little more this time. We come together, maybe 10th-18th, we've picked up a few from behind us. No one's pushing it. I put in a few weak digs to thin the pack, but it doesn't thin as much as I'd hoped. We enjoy 50 mph on eight miles of downhills, but the hills come too soon. A couple go off the front, a couple off the back, none to be seen again. I'm in with three others, and we approach the mid-lap climb. One ditches us.
And on. We pick up Mike. This is not a good sign. He's a climber, suited for endurance races. This should be his day. He's been dropped by the lead group. Turns out his biggest cog is only a 23, and his legs are failing. He asks if I have a 25, and I consider giving him my wheel, but the fact is, it's been misbehaving, the chain twinkling on the spokes while torquing in my climbing gear...which is most of this race. I'm afraid stopping to swap wheels would mean the end of the day for both of us.
The penultimate climb comes. Can't remember from the map...one, two, three miles long? I am just mindlessly chewing up rpms now. I'm third of four in our group. Mike is out ahead, but cutting diagonals across the course. Red/white tails him, then me. Chronometro behind me. He'd told me he didn't have many matches left, but I keep waiting for him to pass me like everyone else has.
Mike pulls off and dismounts. I approach the feed zone, still on the climb, but after all this, it feels like a flat. Shift and hammer. I put away chronometro for good. Red/white is out ahead but pretty far. We approach the turn for the finish. He's probably written me off, and he's chasing Kristen from BH and another woman. They've been trading spots with us for a five miles. Sometimes they're so relaxed they look like they're on a cooldown ride; other times they bury us.
I downshift and go hard on the final pitch. Twenty meters separates me from red/white, then fifteen, but he sees me and my chance is gone. A little dig and he's on the flat, 150 meters to the line, and rides away.
I finish fifteenth. As always, I have to pat myself on the back with the "little" victories: Chronometro lives in the area, and has trained here a lot, and I still held him off. Nearly half the field abandoned, not to mention half the cat 3 field as well. Still, it stings to know I was riding inside the top ten for a spell.
Mike remounted and finished 19th. Al "I'm not much of a climber" Urbanski finished 6th in the 3s, but to be honest, at this point the only way Al could surprise us would be by sprouting wings. But the out-of-nowhere hero finish of the day belongs to Adam Clark: after a rather unorthodox training strategy, fading and recovering, he finished 7th!
Hero.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
god's speed
Somehow in the trip south we gained 30 degrees and lost all the clouds. Maybe signing God's code of conduct did the trick?Brilliant day, brilliant race. If they were all like this, you could come home happy with the result no matter where you ended up.
First off, team results: Molly attacked too hard on the hill, got separation, and chased back on to finish 13th of 23.
In the 3s, Al "I wouldn't bother putting wheels in the truck cuz you'll never catch back on" Urbanski got in a break of seven, built a three minute gap, but 61 miles in, flatted. The truck guy gave him some wheel and pushed him off, yelling GO! Chased back on for 5 miles, catching them in the last half mile. Went for a sprint move but finished fourth. Just out of the brick trophies, but hot results, the hottest of the day. Stan flatted earlier, but was right near the "team couch" so he opted for that.
Cat 4s set out with Cuttin' Crew and xXx up front, controlling the easy pace. A couple danglers get nothing. Squawking in the pack that "if we're going to control it, we should at least push the pace." - Uh, plenty of room up here if you want to show us how it's done.
My 45 minute crit seasoning shows, because at 47 minutes I fade for a few moments. Recover in the back, move up through the field just in time for the first hill. Ouch, but not too bad. Hill 2 shoots me out the back, along with half the pack. I see 3-4 danglers out ahead, if I can only get to them, maybe we can work it out and get back on. Start the second lap trying to do so, but a fruitless effort. I catch them and it turns out they're no use for pulling. I soldier on, averaging 22 mph and somehow getting stronger. I sweep up a dozen or so, nobody can hang on.
I find Andrew (teammate) and Andrew (Yeoman) from Pegasus. Maybe we can all work it out, so I slow up. Turns out I'm doing all the pulling. I'd lost my water bottle but now I'm sticking around teammate Andrew to use his. I absentmindedly drink too much and almost drop him. Sorry dude! Finally I have to go, I hand it back and press on, collecting spots.
I spot a guy on the killer hill out ahead. I gotta get this guy, who cares if I'm mid-pack. I'm not done racing. I get close on the hill but he sees me. I catch him at the crest, drop him on the downhill but I take the lipped corner too easy and burn out a bit on mild cobbled climb. He catches up to me, then fades. Another guy in the distance, in green. Is he too far? Maybe. Gotta try, now THIS is my race.
He's got thirty meters on me in the corner. He glances back but I think he writes me off. I take the turn and start to build. He easily picks off another rider and sits up a bit, but oh no! teammates cheering me on! He sees me and starts to really wind it up. Twenty meters and closing, ten, can he hold me off? No. I get him in the final meters and hold it by inches.
Iron Mike Morell got his best finish ever at 6th, and looking for more hill races this summer. Rooster improved his endurance showings over last year and got 12th. Max at the tail end of the pack, 29th. Me at 41st, Brean shortly behind me (dropped from the pack due to mechanicals, but got back in it). Nordyke building early season conditioning, a bit behind him.
For me, everything went great today, except for that hill. I'm not too disappointed though, I haven't done any long rides or hills, so I'm not too surprised. All in all, a gorgeous day for riding. Back on the bus for the postgame analysis, $7 twelve packs of Stag beer, and the long ride back to the city. Good times.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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.
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.
icebreaker 2009
Half Acre Crit Series, Cat 4/5
No prizes, no primes, no lights (!), just a bunch of guys shaking off the winter.
Monday
First the ladies: Jamie had a solid outing, but it had to be tough in a field of six. 20 mph crosswinds made it possible to ride in the gutter, leaving nothing to draft. They split into 3 and 3, and I missed the details, but she came in at 5th.
In the men's race, Mike and I were up front and staying out of trouble, pushing the pace, covering stuff, letting little gaps open that others had to close down, finding the gutters out of the wind. Nothing too fancy, but throwing the gauntlet down here and there, softening the pack without killing ourselves.
Unfortunately, the 3-5 minute tempo before the sprint put the hurt on me. It would have been nice to have a tempo/leadout/sprint train, but frankly, I wasn't quite up to the call.
But not a bad plan, considering we had no plan: Jeff was rested and ready for the sprint, and he lit it up. Ernie (Van Wagner/Yojimbo's) was the only one able to contest it, and he came around Jeff to take it by maybe half a wheel. Considering he's a tree-legged cat 2 trackie, not too surprising. Mike held on for 9th and I was 3 spots or so behind him, but they didn't map the placings that deep so I'll never know. We got a spot on the podium, a top ten...and a domestique in the bunch. I'm ok with that.
No prizes, no primes, no lights (!), just a bunch of guys shaking off the winter.
Monday
First the ladies: Jamie had a solid outing, but it had to be tough in a field of six. 20 mph crosswinds made it possible to ride in the gutter, leaving nothing to draft. They split into 3 and 3, and I missed the details, but she came in at 5th.
In the men's race, Mike and I were up front and staying out of trouble, pushing the pace, covering stuff, letting little gaps open that others had to close down, finding the gutters out of the wind. Nothing too fancy, but throwing the gauntlet down here and there, softening the pack without killing ourselves.
Unfortunately, the 3-5 minute tempo before the sprint put the hurt on me. It would have been nice to have a tempo/leadout/sprint train, but frankly, I wasn't quite up to the call.
But not a bad plan, considering we had no plan: Jeff was rested and ready for the sprint, and he lit it up. Ernie (Van Wagner/Yojimbo's) was the only one able to contest it, and he came around Jeff to take it by maybe half a wheel. Considering he's a tree-legged cat 2 trackie, not too surprising. Mike held on for 9th and I was 3 spots or so behind him, but they didn't map the placings that deep so I'll never know. We got a spot on the podium, a top ten...and a domestique in the bunch. I'm ok with that.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
farmer wins tour
Yes, it's been a while. What started as a place to blog about single speed/fixed, and messenger nonsense...well, let's just say, any schmo with a computer and a bike can do it (and they all do), and Bike Snob NYC has pretty much cornered the market on alt.bike.news, to the point where I'm constantly amazed the guy has enough time and energy to bloviate on half the stuff he does. It's like those lifelong academics who can spend an afternoon debating formalism vs. de-constructionism. At some point, you're like, who the fuck cares? Ride already!
Plus I'm happy to hear from my bike shop source that the fixed gear trendsters are slowly moving on. I don't know what's next for the hipster masses, and I'm sure there will be a few left behind, but that's ok. One might say the same about me. I was about ready to hang this blog up for good, but surprisingly I still get a few hits on the fg vs. ss page. So anyway.
This post is not about my blogging needs, but about a teamless amateur who beat a bunch of pros in Argentina's Tour de San Luis. My favorite athletes never get on the Wheaties boxes. This was no ABR race neither, Team Saxo won the final day's sprint, and none other than Ivan Basso finished fifth in the GC. Read all about it at Podium Cafe.
Plus I'm happy to hear from my bike shop source that the fixed gear trendsters are slowly moving on. I don't know what's next for the hipster masses, and I'm sure there will be a few left behind, but that's ok. One might say the same about me. I was about ready to hang this blog up for good, but surprisingly I still get a few hits on the fg vs. ss page. So anyway.
This post is not about my blogging needs, but about a teamless amateur who beat a bunch of pros in Argentina's Tour de San Luis. My favorite athletes never get on the Wheaties boxes. This was no ABR race neither, Team Saxo won the final day's sprint, and none other than Ivan Basso finished fifth in the GC. Read all about it at Podium Cafe.
Monday, December 08, 2008
2008 Illinois Cyclocross State Championships
Why do we race?I'm not going to pretend that I can answer that question here, or anywhere else. I've thought about it a lot, and it always just leads to a litany of philosophical truisms, none of which are particularly insightful or unique. But sometimes I have a good answer.
I race for days like this one.
Coming into this race, I couldn't decide if I should focus on the Masters' 30+ race, where I'd yet to make the top ten, or put all my eggs into the cat 4 race, where, if all went well, I had a shot at the podium (though my highest finish has been 7th). Whichever one I did, it would be my last race as a cat 4.
I finally decided that I just love cross racing, and that I'd do both, damn the target races. I've learned a ton in this, my first full season as a proper sanctioned racer, but mostly I've learned that I love cross, and I just love to grind it out.
Grind. It. Out.
The kind of race where one day you finish in 13th and think "hell YES!" The kind of racing where, all of a sudden, at the 40 minute mark, you start reeling in and picking off some of the guys that ditched you at the start (hence my attraction to the longer and harder Masters' races, as the 4s are just about over by then). The hecklers, the pain, the tailgating.
So I figured I'd be happy with a top ten finish in Masters', or a top five in the 4s, with a little daydream of making the podium. The bike has pretty much fallen to pieces in the last few weeks, and as a result, I'd been hemorrhaging money along the way...a new tire, then another, chainring, chain, ss cog, brakepads, cables, and pedals. I hate installing/tweaking canti brakes, so I dropped it off to Justin at Turin. He tuned it and cleaned it up, and did not take any shortcuts: new bearings in the bb, and he "found" some bar tape and endcaps for me. That thing was dialed in, as dialed in as a $500, seven-year-old singlespeed can be. He pointed out that my front wheel was looking rough, but I explained that it was a twelve-year-old ex-messenger wheel, so I'd be happy if it just got me through the day.
Sunrise: it was 7 degrees outside. The Masters' race went off and it wasn't much warmer. My team hadn't shown up yet, and my family was tied up. A brawly start with 20 guys going sideways powering through the slush. I cleaned the 4 s-curves as best I could (with my slack turning radius) and found myself in 12th on the first climb up the hill. I thought "great, I have 50 minutes to pick off two guys and I'm in the top ten." 2-3 guys passed me, I passed 2-3 guys faltered in a turn, and I had no idea what my position was.
So often in these races, if you're not contesting for the win, you're locked in a man-to-man battle with whomever's nearby. I was ten seconds off Walid, a guy from Van Wagners/Yojimbo's. I'd finished just behind him in another Masters' race this season, but it was a "hundred yards ahead of me" kind of finish. This time, he was ten seconds ahead of me for most of the race. The thing about cross is, ten seconds can be ten feet away in a technical runup/barrier switchback, or it can be a hundred feet in a downhill. I'd close to three seconds, and he'd unwind again and ditch me. Somewhere along the way, my team showed up, and made up for lost time by chasing me through the turns with a bullhorn aimed at me. Good times.
I pretty much thought I lost Van Wagners, and I was just grinding it out, trying not to count remaining laps, and I crept up on him again. We were on the final lap, being lapped by the leaders, and maybe he was a little complacent and not seeing me. We turned out of the downhill, into a long smooth straightaway, and I caught his eye. Damn. He wound up the speed to keep me from attacking, and I thought "that's it...there aren't many places to pass on this course, and I just missed this one." But I noticed he faded, and fast. Perhaps I could still wind it up and get the corner before the barriers? I kicked it up, and it seemed I wasn't going to make it...he could literally just pause, hesitate, block me...take up too much space going into the barrier/corner...but he didn't. A rather sporting move! We went over side-by-side and I had the inside coming out. "You got me!" he said as I leapt back on.
He was there the rest of the lap, sometimes close. One mistake and he'd get the spot back (and they are easy to make in the snow, especially late in a race, when you're sloppy). I kept it clean to the finish to come in 8th, my best finish in a Masters' race. Almost certainly the top cat 4 in the race, not that it counts for squat, but I was happy to find out Walid is a highly regarded cat 2 track racer. Beating someone like that feels like a win for me.
It was hard not to go to the Cuttin' Cruiser and just start drinking hot spiked cider and chowing hot dogs. But I'd already purchased my second race number, knowing I'd lose momentum. So I defrosted my toes, hung out on the cruiser, cheered out the windows, sat in a pile of warm bodies...some prepping to race, some just spectating. Our fearless leader was fine-tuning the tandem for the 4b race, the squad was pinning numbers and taking practice laps, and the rest were drinking and whatnot, cranking Public Enemy, which seems to be the only disc on the bus. I was just trying to stay warm. I'd planned on bringing out the (now barred) Jordan jersey, and I didn't want to risk catching a chill first.
On to cat 4: The regional administrator (who's forbidden me from racing with uncovered shoulders) was tied up sorting results, and the start line official just laughed at me. Jordan was in. More bodies in the start, not so many of them strong. I was in 6th going into the first climb, and I knew the guy in 5th would fade soon. I could feel racers behind me, but I can't start looking backwards so early in a race; it makes me lose focus on catching the guy in front of me. I went over the double barrier to discover a patch of ice had formed on the inside line. I went down, but so did the guy behind me, and nobody passed us. He made a deep groan; the kind that makes you think he's not getting right back up. A brief "whew" entered my mind and I resumed the chase without losing any spots. I came around a few switches and saw him still standing there. Shit! It was my teammate Bradley. In retrospect I felt kinda bad, but I didn't bring him down (we both did the same thing on the same ice patch). I had been covering the corners supertight, thinking someone might make a move, but had I known it was him, I wouldn't have protected so hard. Hell, if he thought I was holding him back, I would have let him by.
I resumed the hunt, now in fourth. Somehow I slipped past a Pony Shop rider. I realized I was in third. The podium! It was a fine balance between chasing down the two leaders and making sure I didn't take a chance that would slide me out. At one point, he passed me on the climb, but I don't know what came over me, I countered on the outside, in the deeper snow, longer line, steeper rise...and closed it down. He never got so close again.
I "almost" caught Henry (Pegasus) in second, but he wasn't wearing down late in the race the way most were; he was still able to wind it up and get distance here and there. I rolled across the line in third...my highest placing ever, and good for a bronze medal! I finished 17th in this race last year!
Turns out...maybe a silver medal? Nobody (except for Henry) was thrilled to find out that the winner didn't hold an annual license, and was therefore ineligible (and didn't find out until the start line). So maybe we slotted up a spot, but who cares, we all know who really won the championship. I personally think the officials jerked him around, as they said "if he'd asked to convert to an annual license at the start line, they would have accommodated him" but not so after the race. Lame.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, our team President, Jeff, the owner/captain of the Cuttin' Cruiser, was presented with an all-around "Awesomeness" trophy from another team and a bunch of fans...for showing up, rockin' the bus, cheering, grilling, occasionally racing, and just bringing it. (Unfortunately he didn't get more than half a lap into the 4b race before an Official pulled he and Adam for riding a tandem.) That's why he's the prez.
One thing that can't go unmentioned. I got serious noise for rocking Jordan colors. A bunch of people knew my name, the rest called me EMJAY! and quite a few called me fucking crazy. The family showed up during the race, and even my father-in-law was running back and forth across the bridge so he wouldn't miss any action.
On a more somber note, the only thing that really sucks about getting my two best results ever, and hanging out with the most rocking (and occasionally ass-kicking) team, on the last racing day of a crazy year...Bradley broke his ankle in his fall. He doesn't seem to be too phased by it, but damn. We had the same fall, at the same spot, at the same time. I got a big purple bruise on my kneecap, and he got a cast. Damn.
Half the fun of cross is trolling flickr, ego surfing for action shots. These shots were swiped from ffonst's flickr stream. There's something about this one that really captures the day...the panorama, the desolate windswept spot overlooking the beach, somewhere between second and fourth place, just Grinding It Out.
Monday, October 06, 2008
vive le 2008 road season
No more alleycats.
It started as a crazy idea to race a crit on a single speed. But roadies are such dorks. LT, HRMs, watts, weight weenies, base miles, the kinds of things that can take the fun out of riding a bike...finish midpack, ok, I can do this. Maybe a time trial? I shaved my legs. I totally better back this shit up.
I need a road bike. Raid my 401(k), troll ebay, drive solo to Iowa for two races, come home with two medals. Sweet, I'm gonna tear it up.
Sadly, that turns out to be my best showing for most of the season. Join a kickass team. A little rough around the edges, brings it strong sometimes, and long on style. I'm not a bandwagon-jumping, rah-team type of guy, but they were the first team I've seen that made me think...yeah, THAT'S where I belong.
Little lessons, tiny mistakes, shine hard here and there, but when one small thing goes wrong...nothing. Excuses abound. No hill training, I neglect my bike, everybody gets stronger and my winter conditioning doesn't take me the distance anymore.
Whatever. It's fun. Lots of things go right. I took the penultimate turn at Downer's harder and faster than everyone in my heat. I absolutely threw my bike around the descent at Snake Alley. I stayed out of the red zone at Whitewater and saved it for the sprint. I took a few hard pulls out front that earned me the right to point at a spot at 5th wheel and say "coming in." I slipped off from the family just enough times to get my upgrade to cat 4.
So it is with some relief that I made it back to the podium this past weekend. ok, it was a beginners' heat. In ABR. In a time trial. (Technically, I've had less than 15 mass starts, so I can, in good conscience, race that division in ABR.)
But...it wasn't a gimme. There were some strong riders out there...some guys 15 years my junior, some with all the high end gear that can shave a minute or two off in the course of 9.8 miles. I dusted off the single speed and killed it in 22:56, for second place, averaging 25.6 mph. (It would have been good enough for 10th in cat 4, but I think I would have gotten over my laziness and set up and tested a proper TT config for cat 4.)
Our team aspirations of putting someone on the overall podium in the Fall Fling weren't panning out. Rather than show up for the final stage running low on money, time, and energy, I decided to go out on a high note.
and so. Adieu.
It started as a crazy idea to race a crit on a single speed. But roadies are such dorks. LT, HRMs, watts, weight weenies, base miles, the kinds of things that can take the fun out of riding a bike...finish midpack, ok, I can do this. Maybe a time trial? I shaved my legs. I totally better back this shit up.
I need a road bike. Raid my 401(k), troll ebay, drive solo to Iowa for two races, come home with two medals. Sweet, I'm gonna tear it up.
Sadly, that turns out to be my best showing for most of the season. Join a kickass team. A little rough around the edges, brings it strong sometimes, and long on style. I'm not a bandwagon-jumping, rah-team type of guy, but they were the first team I've seen that made me think...yeah, THAT'S where I belong.
Little lessons, tiny mistakes, shine hard here and there, but when one small thing goes wrong...nothing. Excuses abound. No hill training, I neglect my bike, everybody gets stronger and my winter conditioning doesn't take me the distance anymore.
Whatever. It's fun. Lots of things go right. I took the penultimate turn at Downer's harder and faster than everyone in my heat. I absolutely threw my bike around the descent at Snake Alley. I stayed out of the red zone at Whitewater and saved it for the sprint. I took a few hard pulls out front that earned me the right to point at a spot at 5th wheel and say "coming in." I slipped off from the family just enough times to get my upgrade to cat 4.
So it is with some relief that I made it back to the podium this past weekend. ok, it was a beginners' heat. In ABR. In a time trial. (Technically, I've had less than 15 mass starts, so I can, in good conscience, race that division in ABR.)
But...it wasn't a gimme. There were some strong riders out there...some guys 15 years my junior, some with all the high end gear that can shave a minute or two off in the course of 9.8 miles. I dusted off the single speed and killed it in 22:56, for second place, averaging 25.6 mph. (It would have been good enough for 10th in cat 4, but I think I would have gotten over my laziness and set up and tested a proper TT config for cat 4.)
Our team aspirations of putting someone on the overall podium in the Fall Fling weren't panning out. Rather than show up for the final stage running low on money, time, and energy, I decided to go out on a high note.
and so. Adieu.
Monday, September 29, 2008
quattro stagione: stages 1 and 2
I tried my hand at the ABR Fall Fling: A four stage road race, split over two weekends, so us working stiffs can live out our TdF dreams. Much like a ghetto credit card, I'll be paying back the time to my wife with lots of interest. Race reports will be suspended for some time, replaced by drywalling or some other jobs on my list. But anyway, I couldn't do this crap if it weren't for her holding down the spot at home, so I dedicate my, um, victory results to her.
Day 1: Cat 4 road race, 40 miles, narrow going, a mild roller or two.
I feel ok, but I haven't touched a road bike in a month. My front tire is played out, so despite being 30 psi below its rating, it blows at the start line. I run back towards the car (not really sure what I'm going to do, since I don't have a spare wheel cued up) and an awesome guy named Raymundo hands me a Campy tubular that's probably worth more than my bike. I make it back to the start with seconds to spare. (Note to self, bring extra wheels, even if there's no wheel pit.)
I stay near the front, I do a couple pulls to keep my account in good standing, I creep to the redline a few times, I back off a couple turns at the front, but then again so does most everyone else. The road was narrow, the centerline rule was keeping us three abreast and slow, and a combine thirty feet wide took up the entire road for a mile, keeping us all even slower.
I hit a bump with one lap to go, my speedometer sensor starts clipping the front wheel, and since it's not mine, I don't take any chances. I pull over and fix it, but lose 40 seconds on the pack, at the wrong time. I waved off Brean because it would have damaged both of our chances to finish well. So I practice my time trialing, come in 34th, and my hope for GC glory is dashed.
Brean gets 3rd, Mike gets 10th, Trey, a friend-of-team, cramps up before the sprint and gets 32nd. Nadia, a junior and a Track Cat in her first road race, spaces on her start group, has to make up 35 seconds to join her pack, does so, but finishes DFL. Due to the magic of categorization, she finishes second in "beginner women" and gets a medal anyway.
Day 2: Wood Dale Crit: fast, smooth, not-so-stressful corners, a little kicker before turn four.
I'm working for Brean. Actually, they took away the double points for the road race, since a bunch of people crossed the centerline before the 200 M sprint marker, so they punish the top 20 equally. Which sucks, since Brean loses 18 free points on the deal, but Mike is now in the mix for overall classification, so I'm working for him too.
I decided to race Beginners/Cat 5 as well. Ten laps, and three in, Team Tati executed a move after the hill in turns 3/4, and came through with two hot riders. The second one sat up, and I was a couple spots back, and thought "No Fucking Way" and came around him. Unfortunately the guys in first and second either couldn't or wouldn't chase the guy off the front (Turns out it was Brian Hague, who did the same in the Beginners RR the day before). His 5 meter gap grew and long story short, that kid can TT, nobody would pull through, and we were all left fighting for second. Seven of us separated from the bunch to contest the sprint, and though I thought I'd saved enough through the last climb into the wind, everyone else did too. 8th place. BFD. I thought this Cat wouldn't be so tough, but a sprint is a sprint, and I didn't have it today.
The plan for the 4s race was for me to "get near the front" with 5 to go, my teammates to find me, and me to lead somebody out. I was not in the best form during this race, and was really worried I'd let them down, but I stayed up front, slipped back here and there, chased a break once or twice, worked a bit, backed off a bit, and decided to go for a prime even though the one guy chasing it was already 20 meters ahead when I decided (missed it by a wheel or so).
1/4 of the way throught the final lap, I managed to find myself in 4th, so THAT part of my mission was accomplished. A couple of strong guys from Mack were ahead of me, and two guys got separation while one Mack guy blocked me. I was determined not to let that happen again so I closed it up. I had no idea if either of my teammates were on my wheel, but I suspected I wouldn't make it to the lead out. Sure enough, I caught the leaders, but was swallowed with half a lap to go. Had one or both of them been on my wheel, it might have still kept them in the mix, but it didn't quite work out like that. Mike never made it up to me, Brean was close, but he had chased something down pretty hard with two to go and wasn't his usual sprinter's self. He came into turn three pretty hot and had to ease up, and got swept in too. He finished 24th, Mike at 30th, me at 32nd, and Trey (in his first crit) at 37th. Not exactly noteworthy, but Brean might still be one spot out of the money overall.
Nadia vindicated us all by grabbing another 2nd place in her Cat. She couldn't hang on to the pack at the gun, but linked up with another rider for some good pacing, sweeping up a couple dropped riders along the way. At least SOMEBODY around here is still on the podium.
Next week: goofy helmets and bars for the 10 mile TT, then one final crit.
Day 1: Cat 4 road race, 40 miles, narrow going, a mild roller or two.
I feel ok, but I haven't touched a road bike in a month. My front tire is played out, so despite being 30 psi below its rating, it blows at the start line. I run back towards the car (not really sure what I'm going to do, since I don't have a spare wheel cued up) and an awesome guy named Raymundo hands me a Campy tubular that's probably worth more than my bike. I make it back to the start with seconds to spare. (Note to self, bring extra wheels, even if there's no wheel pit.)
I stay near the front, I do a couple pulls to keep my account in good standing, I creep to the redline a few times, I back off a couple turns at the front, but then again so does most everyone else. The road was narrow, the centerline rule was keeping us three abreast and slow, and a combine thirty feet wide took up the entire road for a mile, keeping us all even slower.
I hit a bump with one lap to go, my speedometer sensor starts clipping the front wheel, and since it's not mine, I don't take any chances. I pull over and fix it, but lose 40 seconds on the pack, at the wrong time. I waved off Brean because it would have damaged both of our chances to finish well. So I practice my time trialing, come in 34th, and my hope for GC glory is dashed.
Brean gets 3rd, Mike gets 10th, Trey, a friend-of-team, cramps up before the sprint and gets 32nd. Nadia, a junior and a Track Cat in her first road race, spaces on her start group, has to make up 35 seconds to join her pack, does so, but finishes DFL. Due to the magic of categorization, she finishes second in "beginner women" and gets a medal anyway.
Day 2: Wood Dale Crit: fast, smooth, not-so-stressful corners, a little kicker before turn four.
I'm working for Brean. Actually, they took away the double points for the road race, since a bunch of people crossed the centerline before the 200 M sprint marker, so they punish the top 20 equally. Which sucks, since Brean loses 18 free points on the deal, but Mike is now in the mix for overall classification, so I'm working for him too.
I decided to race Beginners/Cat 5 as well. Ten laps, and three in, Team Tati executed a move after the hill in turns 3/4, and came through with two hot riders. The second one sat up, and I was a couple spots back, and thought "No Fucking Way" and came around him. Unfortunately the guys in first and second either couldn't or wouldn't chase the guy off the front (Turns out it was Brian Hague, who did the same in the Beginners RR the day before). His 5 meter gap grew and long story short, that kid can TT, nobody would pull through, and we were all left fighting for second. Seven of us separated from the bunch to contest the sprint, and though I thought I'd saved enough through the last climb into the wind, everyone else did too. 8th place. BFD. I thought this Cat wouldn't be so tough, but a sprint is a sprint, and I didn't have it today.
The plan for the 4s race was for me to "get near the front" with 5 to go, my teammates to find me, and me to lead somebody out. I was not in the best form during this race, and was really worried I'd let them down, but I stayed up front, slipped back here and there, chased a break once or twice, worked a bit, backed off a bit, and decided to go for a prime even though the one guy chasing it was already 20 meters ahead when I decided (missed it by a wheel or so).
1/4 of the way throught the final lap, I managed to find myself in 4th, so THAT part of my mission was accomplished. A couple of strong guys from Mack were ahead of me, and two guys got separation while one Mack guy blocked me. I was determined not to let that happen again so I closed it up. I had no idea if either of my teammates were on my wheel, but I suspected I wouldn't make it to the lead out. Sure enough, I caught the leaders, but was swallowed with half a lap to go. Had one or both of them been on my wheel, it might have still kept them in the mix, but it didn't quite work out like that. Mike never made it up to me, Brean was close, but he had chased something down pretty hard with two to go and wasn't his usual sprinter's self. He came into turn three pretty hot and had to ease up, and got swept in too. He finished 24th, Mike at 30th, me at 32nd, and Trey (in his first crit) at 37th. Not exactly noteworthy, but Brean might still be one spot out of the money overall.
Nadia vindicated us all by grabbing another 2nd place in her Cat. She couldn't hang on to the pack at the gun, but linked up with another rider for some good pacing, sweeping up a couple dropped riders along the way. At least SOMEBODY around here is still on the podium.
Next week: goofy helmets and bars for the 10 mile TT, then one final crit.
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