The short of it

As advertised, yesterday was the Millennium Mile up in Londonderry. Zencycle decided not to run for some reason. Duano could not make it either, as he had some pressing business to tend to. The Cronoman came, but he just spectated. Way Fast Whitey was the only other Team BOB member to compete. He even rode his bike through the rain and fog to get there and back home. Yikes. At least it was pretty warm, hence the fog from all the snow.

There were almost 600 runners. Shitloads of kids. The organizers make no attempts to keep them off the front of the pack either, and even seem to encourage it. It's a pretty dangerous situation really. Some of them are as young as two years old. There was a team of about fifty grade school kids in uniform who all lined up at the front. Of course, there are some hard core track runners too. The course is flat for a quarter mile, then starts going downhill, and loses over 100 feet by the 3/4 mile mark. Then the end is flat, with maybe even a hint of rise in one spot.

During warmup my calves were way tight. I think the Brooks trail runners that I've been trying have something to do with this. There was a running track out behind the school that was mostly snow free. I was having trouble doing two minute laps. My "strides" were pathetic. My original plan was to run next to Duano and then beat him in the sprint, since I can't even come close to that on the bike. But he was a no-show. I needed a new plan, and sure didn't feel like I'd be able to run fast. I headed back to the car and changed into shorts and my racing shoes. Instantly my calves felt better. It was almost start time.

I lined up in the third row. There was no national anthem this year. They fired a gun and we went. As usual, all the little kids, and about half the adults bolted from the line like the race was 100 meters. I can hit the first mile in around 5:45 in a "normal" 5k, and I was for sure running faster than that, yet I had about 200 people in front of me and more coming by. Then they all blow and put the flashers on. I was bobbing and weaving like OJ through the airport just trying not to trample someone. Pretty ridiculous. There was a big plywood sign for 1/4 mile but I was so busy elbowing and navigating that I could not take a split.

Last time I ran this, in 2008, my time was 4:51, and it HURT. Bad. This time, I felt awesome. I'm not sure why. I've worked a lot on my downhill running, as well as my turnover/cadence, and it's helped. The half mile sign came up suspiciously fast, a 2:19 split. That's a 4:38 pace and we're still flying downhill! Not only that, but now there's actually some clear road. But I have to wonder if the sign was in the proper location. My 3/4 mile split was 1:21. The end seemed brutally long but the clock said 4:54 as I passed it into the chute, another 1:20 split on my watch even though I'd hit the button well late of the line. Yet my official time was 4:58, 45th place, 7 seconds slower than last time.

I can't complain about that. I never do speedwork, instead preferring to just run hills. I'm thinking about finding a place to do mile repeats soon though. My legs weren't the best but I think my heart and lungs are in great form because this felt like a cruise to me. The winning masters time was 4:30. 28 seconds is an eternity at this distance, but I'm nonetheless encouraged because only five of the 44 runners ahead of me were my age or older. And I'm not a runner.

So that's it, the last race of 2009. There were less of them than I thought. Maybe I'll put up some year-end stats later this week. Thanks for reading.

The Long and the Short of it.

Solobreak sightings are at 0:09 and at 0:35, where there are still over fifty riders behind me. I must have been on the ground longer than I thought, 'cuz I found the back soon after...


Tomorrow is the shortest race of the year for me, the Millennium Mile in lovable Londonderry, NH. It's looking like we'll have a nice contingent of Team BOB misfits toeing the line at 2 pm for the mostly downhill sprint. I've done this once before, in 2008, making the line in 4:51. It hurt. The winner was sub-4. This year I've got no plans to even attempt to equal or better that mark. This time it's just an excuse to run out in the middle of the street and spend some pub time with my mates afterward.

The chief reason for this is that in just four short weeks, I'm signed up for what will (in all likelihood) be my longest running race of the year, the Boston Prep 16 Miler in the next town over from Londonderry. I did this one once before too, also in 2008, running 1:51:17 or something like that in a raging snowstorm. To this day, that is the furthest I've ever run in my life, with probably close to 18 miles on the day since at this race you have to park a mile away from the start. I can't predict how that one will go yet, but I'm hoping for reasonable weather with better footing than last time. I'm looking forward to throwing down against the Ironmatron as well as possibly Feltslave. Maybe even zencycle? GCD? You owe us an update too BTW. The race closes at 800, and they have a startlist posted online, currently with 515 registrants. Don't let that fool you though, as mail-ins are not on that list so the race is closer to closing out than it appears. The weather is a crapshoot, but the entry is only $40 and you get a real technical base layer, much better than a t-shirt, and the post race food is good.

Since the Norwood Turkey Trot 4 miler back in November, my running focus has been on building endurance only. Translation: I'm going out and running slow, mostly on the trails, concerned only with staying out there a bit longer than the time before that. In California I bagged a few runs of over 90 minutes, with hills. Then at nats I kinda banged my knees up a little bit while hurling my tired old body down onto the ice. That was setback number one, and the snowstorm last week was number two. Prior to the snow though, I did get out on Saturday for 12 miles or so in Borderland. That's flat, so I tried to make it tempo and my legs were pretty sore this week. Wednesday found me on a treadmill for the first time in over a year -- well that sucked. On to Christmas. With all my holiday obligations taken care of on the eve, I was free to find some low-traffic industrial byways for a good run on Friday. I hit Blue Hills, and ran some big hilly loops on Royall Street, Green Street, and the Reebok campus, with a detour up and down the access road at around the hour mark (btw, the road was cleared and salted, and would even have been safe on a road bike except for two patches near the top where the snowguns from the ski area coat the pavement with overspray). Total mileage was around 14-14.5 in exactly two hours. That's a lot for me, hence my low hopes for a fast mile tomorrow. My only goal is to beat Duano...

So now I need a training plan for the rest of January. I am not a fan of running in the street to begin with, but the woods are in no shape for trailwork right now (except for snowshoes). Forget the treadmill; I think a 35 minute "better than nothing" run is about my limit there. That might suffice for mid-week. So my best bet looks like finding races on the weekends, and praying for a January thaw. And I have to hope the bash damage on my knee is only that. Thanks for reading.

Adam's Ave CX Race Report

Photo by Dan Gindling

I'm out of order here; this one happened the weekend before nationals. The event took place at Balboa Park, home of the San Diego Velodrome. This was SCPS #14 but with a non-series race the same day, as well as the distance from LA, the turnout was expected to be somewhat lower than at Glendale. Overall though, the promoters were pleasantly surprised, as they got so many entrants they ran out of numbers. In the 45+ though, we had just 14 starters, but with some quality riders nonetheless.

The course was FAST. Kind of a throwback to the 90's with cheesy single barriers, but I was loving it because it was power, power, power. The nickname of this race is Balboa Roubaix because a large section of the course traverses a barren dirt lot where the surface is mostly embedded rocks. Not too many of the kind that stick up and give you pinch flats, just stuff like you see in the linked photos. After a circuit of the vacant lot, the course led up and down through some varied trails among scrub brush, then around the back of the velodrome. A short ride/runup led to some grass around tennis courts. It had been heavily watered, so there was even a little mud! A course tape "pinwheel" preceded a fast off-camber around the tennis courts before a short hill and barrier section led back to the fast open power section. On the last lap only, we were diverted into the velodrome for a 1.5 lap finish. I think it's a concrete 250 of around 28 degrees banking, similar to Encino.

At the start I fell into the conga line about halfway back to see how things shook out. At first I thought it was all together but as soon as we got through all the chicanes and hit the open area it became evident that the top three had already opened a huge gap on the rest of us. The lot sits high on a hill overlooking the city and ocean, and it was windy. This was also the coldest day San Diego had seen in a long time. The locals were shivering in the 55 degree temps. Honestly, with the wind, when the sun went behind the clouds it really was a little chilly. I saw more than a few down parkas. I'm not kidding.

Feeling strong, I drilled it away from the group and was closing the gap on the lead three. One of them was jumping away from the other two, who appeared to be in a very negative drafting match, probably the reason that I *almost* was able to close the gap before the twisties. I burned a half match, maybe more, but three minutes into a 45 minute race I felt it wise to hold back something. That was probably a mistake. Losing sight of the lead trio, and with only one pre-ride lap, I overshot a few corners and even went off-course once, as it could have been taped off a bit better than it was. Like I said, small race, bit of a throwback.

As it was two riders were able to bridge up to me from behind, and I never saw the lead three again. Instead, I became entangled in a battle with the other two. One guy was on a mountain bike. You still see this in SoCal, and there are even riders in the elite races who run CX bikes with flat bars. Some of them are quite fast too. In the "pinwheel" the course tape was blowing all over the place. It was staked out wide, and I tried to use the entire width to late-apex the inner stake and get good exit speed. But the combination of blowing tape and my blurry vision conspired to have me totally botch it, and I cut across two stakes early, riding myself straight into the tape while the other two cut behind me, bewildered. Now I was playing catch up. I told you I got myself entangled in a battle...

Luckily the MTB guy was sitting on the other guy, and I was stronger than both of them. I bridged up on the windy section, then sat on to recover before going around as soon as we hit the twisties. Going into the ride/runup, the first guy passes me, and then the MTB guy tries to, but I shut him down. He starts growling at me, saying "you'd better not be getting off" and I'm like "you bet your ass I am." I mean fuck, it's a cross race. The thing was rideable I guess, but I hadn't had time to scout the lines. And I think running was just as fast. It sure was for me that lap, as I totally nailed it, passed the first guy on the remount and sprinted away, distancing myself from both of them. The rest of the race would be a solo TT, no drama on the velodrome, and I ended up fourth.

A week of training and no work had left me feeling pretty spry, and in SoCal a second race is only $5, so I signed on for the 3/4 event an hour later. There were about 40 starters, I think. This time I lined up second row as series leaders got callups. My recently acquired course knowledge would help, so I was more aggressive on the start, even though it was kind of a clusterphuck with a log barrier about 100m into it, and a larger pack this time. Onto the power section I was feeling very fit, all opened up, really better than I have all cross season. I'm still not the best starter, but I picked off a rider here and there and moved into the top 10. My dismounts and barrier running were better than they've been all year too. One of my main fitness goals this entire season was to improve my overall athleticism and I think I succeeded. I'm doing much better at actually "leaping" when I approach the barriers, confident that my jump off will produce the needed air time, and I'm smoother on the remounts. At least I was out in SoCal anyway; I wasn't losing ground on the barriers, and may have even been gaining some.

The race developed into a three or four way battle with those near me, with others still in sight ahead, so things were looking up. Having a full race on this course behind me, I'd been hitting the lines perfectly, especially the pinwheel... Until of course, I repeated the exact same mistake as in the first race, lost my bearings in the blowing tape, and rode right into it. Three guys got by this time. But like I said, my lungs felt big and open, my legs felt awesome; I owned these guys, so I charged back after them, faster than I'd gone all day. Flying into the off-camber turn around the corner of the tennis courts, I buried the inside pedal into the turf, high-siding myself violently down the slope. Ouch. Wasn't planning on that. One more guy got by. A bit shaken, I got up, quickly rode it off and started to try to charge back yet again. My adrenaline was kicking in and I was thinking "you can still salvage this, nats is next week, don't save anything, GO!" This is not my normal modus operandi, but like I keep saying, I felt great and think I was hitting a nice peak fitness-wise at just the right time.

Remounting over the big log jump, I powered off into the wide-open vacant lot autobahn. But then I felt a "pop" and suddenly my front wheel is rubbing the brakes with every revolution. Weird as I did not feel it immediately after the crash, but it did not seem bad enough to be a broken spoke either. I probably should have stopped to check it out, but I'm totally fired up, remember? My thought pattern was like "fuck it, I don't care how much the brakes are rubbing, I'm killing this!" so I shifted up two gears and kept drilling it... for about a half lap. Then BOOM goes the tire. Game over. At least I got another twenty minutes or so at threshold for my $5. Not sure exactly what happened, but the Bontrager tire/rim combination is not the tightest fit, so I probably broke the bead or "rolled" the clicher a little bit in the crash. Or just damaged the tire. Not sure why the delayed reaction, or maybe I just didn't notice it when I first got going again. I was bummed though, as this race had a decent field and for sure I was not finished moving up through it. Oh well. If you're keeping score, that makes three mishaps in the eight days I'd owned this bike, and we weren't even on the way to nats yet. Thanks for reading.

CX course idea

This was a bright idea I had. At first I was going to just email this to Reuter, but soon realized that wasn't good enough. Instead I'm posting it to here, so you're like my copyright attorney who works pro bono. At least the makes you PRO. Can you tell I've been reading Thom's blog?

So here is the idea: Combine the "berm" and the "pinwheel." It will be awesome, and only require about an acre of land, two bulldozers, a power tamper, and a week of time to complete. Imagine a bermed pinwheel, perhaps even with some whoops and jumps thrown in to it someplace, circling three or four times before terminating in the mother of all bermed hairpins and then heading back out the other way, also bermed of course. It would have multi-colored plastic-wrap solid barriers on each side (just in case someone was so awesome they overshot the berm), of course different colors on the left and right. To mark the center, we'd have either a giant flagpole with the lion of Flanders on it, or perhaps some sort of Olympic Torch thing, which we could light with a flaming arrow before the Cat 4 race. Better yet, a burning Fiero on top of a giant pedestal. This would be much cooler than some lame three story flyover, which are way overrated and really no better than riding over the troll bridge at King's Castleland or some miniature golf course. Thanks for reading.

I wasn't kidding...

...about the Paul Bunyan statue. Thanks for reading.

Hasyun Wool Promo

Since it's all of six fucking degrees outside this morning, today's as good a time as any to pimp the stylin' wool base layers being sold by our pal Murat over on his retail sideline site weebike.com. Many of you are aware that I'm known to extol the virtues of Ibex wool clothing here, and the truth is that stuff, specifically their wool shorts and knickers, has changed my life. OK, the way I approach life in winter anyway. No more restrictive layers; in this stuff I can stay warm without being mummified by layers of so-called "thermal lycra" or what have you. The Ibex leg and arm warmer accessories are equally awesome for the extremities, as is their headgear for your noggin. But what about my torso?

Enter Murat and his Hasyun wool base layers. Sure, Ibex sells a line of wool base garments too, and the truth be told, they're slightly nicer in feel and trim than the Hasyun stuff. But compare $60 for an Ibex woolies T with the $25 for a similar item from weebike. I like super-nice quality clothing as much as the next person, but we're talking base layers here. Sure, the Ibex stuff is so nice that you could probably wear it out in public when it's brand new, if that's your thing. But under your jersey or jacket on a ride in 28 degree temps? You'll never know the difference. The real beauty of wool though, is for the in between temp rides, the ones that start out in the 40s but end up pushing 60 or better. Here is where wool blows away other base layer fabrics, as it will keep you warm, even when wet, without smothering you when things heat up. I wore wool almost every day on my recent west coast trip, and it was absolutely perfect for the days when it was 55 and windy on the PCH, but pushing 80 as soon as I turned off and started climbing up a canyon road in the sun. No need to put on a wind jacket when bombing back down, comfy as can be all the way out and back.

Cons? All wool picks up serious lint in the wash, so you have to keep it separate from unlike colors if you care what it looks like. You also don't want to put it in the dryer. And definitely keep it away from your cycling shit with velcro, as that stuff will rip it apart in the wash if you're not careful. What about the itch factor? Well honestly, with Ibex stuff, for me that doesn't exist. As noted earlier, the Haysun fabric is not quite as soft, but I can wear it next to my skin no problem, and forget about it two minutes after I put it on. If you're really sensitive, it's still a good product to wear over a thin poly underbase on cold days. The only other issue with the Haysun is that when new they have an overbearing mothball odor and you're going to need to wash it out once or twice before use. Good luck, stay warm, thanks for reading.

Nats Photos

Your hero. Notice there are no riders behind me. This was the section added on Friday in an attempt to increase lap times. Must be the first lap because...


By lap two I was exiting the course at this same point.


The Champion shows how it's done. In these conditions, being the strongest was not enough. Jonny was the best rider in every respect, period.


With our time in scenic Bend dwindling, we hit the beer tent for a few before making the dash across town to the Cumberland House for a cyclo-blogger summit meeting with Gewilli and G-Ride. These guys all had to race the next day too... Curtis took the serious racer approach, laying off the sauce and opting instead to take an ice bath.


Gewilli gets some last-minute advice from Nega-Coach. Thanks for reading.

Nats Report

I'll keep it brief. In fact, I'm just pasting in an email I sent to one of my mates. Will try to put up a few pictures later. Thanks for reading.

6000 miles of flying, 2000 miles of driving, 14 minutes of racing...

Started 65th out of maybe 110 or so. Bottleneck did not go well for me, but I thought that I was riding well and moving up, but crashed hard on the ice about 1/3 of a lap into it. Got up, gears skipping, not sure why but all the big ones still worked. Was WAAAAAAAY back there by now. Moved up strongly but some tool knocked me over and him and another guy got by. Reeled them in, but the second guy dumped it right in front of me, on one of the only parts of the course where they had cleared the snow. I went right over him. Right shifter/brake (SRAM) was broken completely off. Tried to ride as a one speed, which was working well. Trying to ride on an ice course with just a front brake? Not so well. Dumped it again hard and called it a day...

Bought Jonny Bold a beer before he even got his stars and stripes jersey pulled on.

Drove 1000 miles straight back to LA yesterday, snow, sleet, freezing rain, fog, rain, you name it. Mountain passes closed, tire chains, etc. Got in at 12:15. Slept 4 hours and caught a flight home Sunday.

2009 season now over.

Getting Malled in Bend

This place is fucked up. Yeah, sure, if you approach it from the east, there is a really cool looking backdrop of volcanos/mountains. But the rest of it is strip malls and tract housing. The race venue? It's at an outlet mall. Seriously, I am not shitting you. They shoehorned a tiny course onto a vacant lot out behind the mall. It's covered in snow, even though it hasn't snowed here for about four days. No surprise really, they don't even plow the roads here. The cars pack it all down to ice. It appears that the road crews throw a little dirt or volcanic dust onto the intersections if they get a chance, but that's about it. Everyone has four studded tires on their car. Mostly American cars too.

I don't watch a lot of movies, but I saw "Fargo" and this place reminds me of that. On the 140 mile drive up here from Klamath Falls this morning, there was virtually nothing but an endless forest of Christmas trees the entire way, except for one or two little outpost towns. One of them even had a giant statue of a Paul Bunyan dude. Then you come to Bend, like for some reason someone plopped this little city in the middle of the forest. We got lost trying to find the venue, so we got the tour of the city, which was a big retail maze. Not what I expected at all. There are some rich looking people, some REALLY poor looking people, and a shitload of people who look like they spent a lot of time in Weed. The do like coffee around here. In the parking lots/strip malls surrounding our motel, there are not one, but two drive through barista huts. And there is a Starbucks across the street, and another one across the other street from that. No I am not shitting you. This place is fucked up.

It's fucking cold too. And since they don't plow the roads, the shoulders are completely covered with ice (hell, the center lanes are 50% covered in ice). So much for Oregon being bike friendly. On to the course. Did the open course practice today. It would be a five minute lap if it weren't covered in rutted ice. As it is, there is one 12" wide strip that's moderately rideable. At least it was at noon. Word is that by 3:30 for the 40+ "B" race, the thing was a rutted hockey rink. What time is my race tomorrow? Oh yeah, 3:30.

On about 20% of the course, they cleared the snow off before 1000 yahoos got a chance to pack and rut it up. That part is pretty cool, fast. The rest of it there is no chance whatsoever to put any power down. I'm getting sick too, so I won't have much power anyway, but crashing repeatedly on ice isn't high on my to do list either. Since we have to blow town early Saturday in order for me to get back to La - La land and make my flight home Sunday, I'm a wee bit short on nats party time. So maybe I'll just get drunk before my race tomorrow. Trust me, it won't hurt. Thanks for reading.

Boots on the Ground in Oregon

But still 140 miles to Bend. 705 miles in under 11 hours to get here. Pretty much a cakewalk, straight through from Ventura County to Klamath Falls. Rt 5 was closed for ice just an hour north of LA yesterday, but we lucked out and blew right through everything today. No weather the rest of the way, gorgeous views of Mount Shasta from Weed CA. Crossed another 5000 foot pass on the way up Rt 97. Finally saw snow and ice at the Oregon border. It's in the teens here now.



So in the past four days I've been the entire length of California, from Balboa Park in San Diego all the way out the top to here. Here's hoping the drive home is just as easy. The roads will be way hairy if it snows or ices. Everyone has studs on all four wheels here. Except us that is... Thanks for reading.

The Adventures of Dusty Hardpack

Since we left off, I've picked up a new Fisher Presidio CX bike, ridden it halfway up a small mountain, raced it in the Southern California Prestige Series #13 at Glendale, gone on a hilly 11 mile trail run, tore the derailleur off the new bike, mangling the dropout almost beyond recognition, blacksmithed the thing back into service, got held up on the road for the filming of an Audi commercial, and ridden a four hour ride in where everyone else had a dualie. Other than that, things have been pretty relaxing, with sunny skies, temps in the 70's, a few cold beers, and burritos stuffed with all sorts of fresh stuff from the ground.

The Bike

Fits fine, rides nice. My first time on SRAM. Took about ten minutes to get used to it. From the drops, it's better than STI, at least on upshifts. From the hoods it's about the same or slightly better for upshifts, but I'd take STI for downshifting. The jury is still out on the shape of the hoods, but the setup is working fine for me here. This bike has some form or Avid brakes. They can actually slow the bike down, and even stop it; this is a big change from my old bike with froglegs, which are merely decorative. Of course, it's dry as a bone here, so YMMV, as will mine when the going gets muddy. But for now I'm Dusty. The same might be said for the tires. The Bontrager Jones clinchers hook up quite nicely on the cement-like baked clay that makes up much of the tundra out here. They are good in the loose dust/sand too. On the road, well, they are CX tires, but I'm surviving. All in all, the new bike fit right in and I haven't thought about it much, which is a good thing. Except for one or two little issues.

Glendale - Solo goes Valley Boy

Home of like, the Galleria. Yes, THE Galleria. And Stop in the Name of Love, there is Atlantic Records. This race was well attended, with a few hundred riders, and held in a big park. Upon arriving we parked in a swank hillside neighborhood and jumped on the course for a quick pre-ride. The layout was similar to life back east, course tape and some tight 180s. The surface was... dusty hardpack. And some mulchy shit. Someone left a course stake in it, which found my front spokes, and over the bars I went. I was wearing my good glasses too, as I needed to be able to see to register. They escaped unscathed while I launched a verbal tirade on everyone nearby. The volunteers sheepishly apologized and cleared out the offending debris, at least some of it. You see, since they don't have mud or snow or any "real" cross stuff out here, they make do by running the courses through ankle deep mulch. Welcome to Socal.

After some more twists and turns the course went up a steep incline of packed dirt. Most people were running, but you could make it if you carried enough speed and pedaled like a bastard. That lead down a fast trail, through a sandy chicane, and then a downward plunge with a 180 at the bottom into some homemade stairs, just like Providence. A fast downhill remount led to another 180 plunge, and then a long, fast, flat power section with several high speed sweepers. Some tighter stuff led onto the pavement, up over a curb, through some more grass power sections and 180s before going back onto the pavement and the start/finish, which was only 40 meters or so past the last corner. One thing they do a lot better than us though is the curb hops. These were robust concrete curbs, and there was one at the end of the long front straightaway, which would also be the start holeshot. But it was fine because they lined the transition with plastic sandbags. These worked much better than the loose lumber they use in New England. Even if you totally botched the curb hop you'd be OK. Most people barely slowed down.

Registration was a cluster. Welcome back to 1992. I guess we have it good in New England. The race had a nice expo though. We warmed up on the maze of cul de sacs nearby. There are many more classes here and most races have several groups on the course at the same time. They have not one, not two, but three classes of singlespeeds. Paul did the Cat 3/4 singles, and I did not know this, so I missed him. Then they had a masters and a 1/2/3 SS as well. And all were well attended. My race had 25 guys starting in the 45+. About an equal number of 55+ started behind them, and then the 3/4 and master women, all on the course at the same time. It was around an eight minute lap and the officials were scoring without the help of a camera...

The top four were seeded on the front row. I was second row, but as usual botched the clip in and went backward on the pavement, but only a few spots. Over the curb and on the grass I got chopped, but then held on. There was a long grass section leading to a tight 180, and then another wide power section on grass. Here I turned it on and moved up about six spots all at once before jumping a few more sandbagged curbs and heading into the tighter stuff. I was a little shaky in a few spots on the first lap but mostly held my spot or moved up. After a lap I had the course dialed in better. Each lap on the longer straights I caught a wheel to follow before going around. One guy kept attacking me hard and then when we got near the narrow part he started complaining that I should work with him. So I went around and never saw him again...

With one to go a guy came by me from behind so fast that for a second I thought I was being lapped or something. I didn't know where he came from, and he opened up five or ten seconds on me before I rallied to get back to his wheel, just before a steep little clay hill. I'd been riding it every lap, but he dismounted and I went by at the top as he got back on. I attacked hard, slid through the sandy chicane, diving down to the 180 into the stairs. At the top of the stairs was a hardpack remount with severe off camber. If you jumped on the seat too hard, you'd slide the back wheel down the off camber. So I tried to smoothly slip on, but... The new bike came with a Bontrager Race saddle, the newer style with sort of a split rear end that has two prominent points sticking out the back... which I managed to get my skinsuit stuck on, wedgie style. Careening down the off camber, and way up the opposite banking, still unclipped, legs askew, I frantically tried to unhitch myself before the next steep plunge over a mulchy, rooted cliff with a tight turn at the bottom. My opponent hesitated for a second, probably fearing that I was going to crash and take him with me, before sneaking by and dropping onto the downhill. By then I recovered and got right on his wheel, feeling pretty confident on the fast sweepers leading toward the last few 180s and the sprint. But by now we were in some lap traffic (3/4 women and 55+ men share the course with the 45+ out here). I probably should have stuffed the guy in the final 180 that was on grass, but instead I sat on until we hit the pavement, which was much too short for me to come around. So he beat me, and I ended up 8th/24 starters, around 2:00 down on the winner. 5th and 6th turned out to be within ten seconds ahead of us. Oh well. I passed on doing a second race, even though it was only $5. Probably should have done it but my throat was parched from the heat and dust and I figured that leaving for home in one piece was a good option anyway.

S.O.L.obreak

A few days later, on Wednesday, we headed across town to a park for cross practice with big shots Mark Noble and his son Chance. Mission Oaks park's terrain is very similar to the Glendale course, with steep clay climbs and some mulchy stuff. The Nobles alternate between easy trips around the entire park, and "hot laps" on a shorter circuit. After about three of each it was getting dark, and Mark flatted, ending his night. Chance started one more hot lap and I decided to join. Of course he was light years ahead of me after only a minute. At the end of my lap, I attacked the last mulchy runup by trying to ride as far as possible before dismounting. Sprinting, I cringed as the pedals locked up and the sounds of crunching metal rang through the air. Right away I knew this wasn't good. The chain must have inhaled a big stick or piece of wood. The back wheel fell right out. The derailleur was sticking straight up into the sky, and the right side axle hanger was ripped wide open. Things did not look good for the rest of your hero's trip.

After swearing and pissing and moaning for a few minutes, we packed up and headed straight to TBOV. Marty and I got right to work, failing to take a picture of the carnage. Armed with dropout aligners, a giant crescent wrench, a Park hanger tool, a dummy axle, and several hammers, we somehow managed to bring the frame and dropout back to their original shape. Sigh of relief; this is why I chose steel, right? No SRAM rear changers were in stock though, except for a Red over at the sister shop, too pricey for CX. Reluctantly we headed across town to the Brand X outlet shop where I scored a silver Rival RD for just $60. And there was much rejoicing. Everything was back the way it was and working, with no missed training days.

Who needs a dualie?

Friday I went solo down to the beach and Sycamore Canyon. This area and Point Mugu State Park are sort of a mecca for coast area mountain bikers. I wasn't so sure about what was doable on a cross bike, but we'd tried a little bit of it a day prior with no big issues. The area was dry as a bone, and has very few rocks. The surface is mostly baked clay, which can be extremely rutted and lumpy. Some of it is covered in powdery dust. There is a bit of sand here and there. All great traction really, especially with the Bontrager CX tires. So long as you check your speed on the fast downhills the only real issue was gearing. 38x27? Most riders I saw were running a 22x32 type of deal on their dualy freeriders. Hey, it's training. Some of the trails were mostly flat, except for the gullies where they cross dry stream beds. There's even a fair amount of pavement on some old ranch roads within the park. My gears were not skipping at all, shifting was perfect. I was back in business.



After crisscrossing the park once, and heading all the way up to the Thousands Oaks entrance side, I headed back down into the valley and down Wood Canyon. I had been riding around two hours at that point, and decided to see if I could make it up the Guadalasco Trail on this bike. A guy at Glendale told me he'd made it on a single speed MTB, so that gave me hope. It's been at least seven years or so since I'd been up it. The bottom was severely rutted as always, but there was not much loose stuff and tractions was superb. Much of Guady is single track in the purest sense of the word, about a foot wide, with rattlesnakes hiding in the grass on each side. Except they don't come out much at this time of year. The CX bike was actually an advantage on some of the super tight switchbacks, although coming out of them there's some rough stuff caused by riders locking it up on the way down. With a lot of standing, before I knew it I'd made the top, which is close to 1000 feet of climbing up. I went down Overlook Road, which is a 1200 foot drop. The road has been graded out wider in the past few years, and was reasonably smooth, but not nearly as much fun on this bike as on an MTB. At the bottom I refueld and then turned back in and up Overlook. I was pretty cooked by now and it wasn't exactly pleasant, but the weather was perfect and with views of the Pacific on one side and the valley on the other, riding the ridge is about as good as it gets to me. I thought about riding down the backbone trail, but if my memory is correct it's not at all suitable for a CX bike, so instead I went straight down Hell Hill. A rider coming up the other way laughed at my dropped bars and said "I was wondering who was making those tracks." Back at the car I had four hours and called it a day. When I left, the Highway Patrol had the road blocked off at Mugu Rock. Audi was filming a commercial and had an R8 driving with the camera cars in the opposite lane. No scantily-clad models for this one though, bummer.



More to come, including my race report from the Adam's Ave CX at the San Diego Velodrome, and of course the upcoming trip to Bend. Sorry for the lack of updates, but I'm enjoying a few weeks not being tehtered to a keyboard. Thanks for reading.

Too much or not enough?

I have an hour to kill in a deserted airport, so I will turn in my common sense and write a little additional commentary on the Tour of the Battenkill entry situation. In case you've been drunk living in a beach hut in Belize with no internet for the past week, entry into the 2010 edition of TotB aka BkR will set you back $75 American, unless you are an elite in which case it's $85. Since this is roughly double what any other one-day amateur entry fee runs, and three times what most of them charge, the shock has generated a little bit of internet discussion already. For a bit more you can go to gewilli's post on the subject. TotB sold out and then some last year at $45 or so, thus the suspicion that the promoter might just be taking advantage of high demand for a somewhat unique race. Perhaps the challenge of supporting 1600 riders was too much, and so by upping the price Anthem just wants to limit the numbers while maintaining the total entry revenues.

What's the big deal anyway, you ask? As noted by some, multi-sport races, bicycle hillclimbs, and ultra-distance mountain bike races all routinely charge more than $75 for entry. And this is true. But as I pointed out on Willi's blog, bike racing is unique in that the nature of the sport leaves us willing and able to race much more often than triathletes and runners. Some bike racers compete forty weekends a year, in addition to stage races and weeknight criteriums. $1000 or more per year in entry fees is not unusual at all. If they all suddenly doubled like TotB did, is could add up to real money, sort of. I say sort of because let's get real, anyone racing forty times a year is burning through a lot more cash than just entry fees, and an extra few hundred $$$ going to the organizers won't slow many of them down much. All this has already been discussed, so instead of going on about it, I'd like to take this in a different direction.

Going back to the end of the first paragraph, what it may come down to is better quality. We all want better races. There were some great comments about that on RMM's post. But is thinking that we're going to get it for $40 expecting too much? The first bicycle road race I ever did cost $4 to enter, plus a $1 insurance surcharge. This was the Myles Standish Road Race, put on by Mass Bay Road Club, in 1987. Most races back then were $5-10, and this was before the "free market" so entry fees were tied to the prize list size. In those days there was no category 5, so I did my first race as a Cat 4. The field was 100 riders. The cat 4 race at Myles Standish was known for, um, excitement, maybe slightly safer than jumping into the lion cage at the Franklin Park Zoo. I came in 3rd place in the mad field sprint, and was awarded $18. I couldn't believe it. I did not know these races had prize money.

I guess promoting races was less expensive in general then. There were less categories than today, and full 100 rider fields were the norm for the 4s, 3s, and the combined 1/2. Then there would be "citizen" races for unlicensed riders, with no prizes, and usually double or triple the $5 entry fee for the licensed racers. These were the cash cow of the 1980s bike race promoter. So it's ironic that we have some discussion today about amateurs subsidizing the Pro/elite race, as we amateurs used to be subsidized by the "citizens." So what happened? Well, mountain biking came along, and a sanctioning body called NORBA got started. They were separate from the USCF, who ran road racing. Since nobody already had a license for the fledgling NORBA, they had the bright idea of selling "one-day" licenses to people who showed up for their first race, and then let them roll it into an annual later. Somebody over at the USCF took note of this, and took a look at all the "citizen's" revenues road race promoters were enjoying, and decided that the USCF should get a piece of the action. Category 5 and the USCF one-day license was born. No longer could a promoter get free insurance for their citizen event. And of course, charging $15 for a ten mile race on top of a $10 one-day license wasn't going to fly so well, especially when the cat 4's were paying only $6 and often racing for a $500 purse.

Promoters (who were most often USCF clubs) were getting squeezed. As rank and file USCF members tend to be self-centered and apathetic athlete types, voting in USCF elections tends to be, to put it lightly, light. Promoter/club representatives quickly voted out the old regulated purse structure, and voted in the "free market" that we still have today (and also, along the way the USCF merged with NORBA and became USAC). Now promoters could charge $10, $15, or $20 entries while maintaining or even reducing the old $500 purse that used to be required in order to charge more than $5. And there was much rejoicing. I guess. Except for the riders who placed in the money often. Even in actual dollars, I think we race for less money now than we did fifteen years ago. In real dollars, it is way less. But then, we're supposed to be amateurs.

All right, that was a lot of rambling. There's still no airplane at the gate here, so I guess I can keep going. Bitching about the history of how the prize money/entry fee structure has gone downhill was not the point of this entry, at all. I'm just throwing it out to give some historical perspective. And I'm sure my account above may contain a few inaccuracies, but it's mostly correct. What is the point? Well, races have gotten better for the most part. Promoters have raised the bar, a lot. Nowhere is this more evident than in New England cyclocross. I was a pioneer cx promoter, putting on races with the help of my Bicycle Link cohorts at Wompatuck and Seekonk Speedway in the late 80's and early 90s. And believe me, these events were not much like the big-time production cx races we enjoy today (other than the prize money, which was pretty good back then). How did things get better? Well, part of it was the growth of the sport, with more people becoming interested in it. We (cx people) used to be considered real nut jobs. But there's more. I don't remember who the first promoter to charge a $25 entry for a cross race was, but you can bet that whoever it was encountered some resistance. And yet they paved the way for the bright lights, big city Verge races that are a must do for nearly all of us.

All that was just the prelude to my point about TotB: what if $75 for a road race is not charging too much, but instead an indication that everyone else is not charging enough? We want better events, right? I can think of a few races that were around in my rookie season that still exist in more or less the same form today: Sunapee, Jiminy Peak, and umm, maybe that's it. And these races have had their ups and downs. It's great that the host clubs continue to forge ahead, but how long can they keep it up? There are far more great races that are no more: Buckfield, Westfield, Stowe, Killington, Greenfield, Charlemont, Pemi-Valley, Manchester and more. Even the most successful promoter of late, Mike Norton, has had to cancel some of his races because expenses were projected to exceed revenues. And don't forget local resistance. Races are guests of the host communities, and let's face it, there is not much in it for them. The TotB promoter noted in one of his posts on RMM's blog that greasing the wheels of progress with charitable donations was a mandatory part of doing business for him. More races should probably do it.

But we all want paved parking, a timing service with instant, accurate results, neutral support (even though getting a fast wheel change and successfully rejoining the group has never, ever been a high-percentage play in races below cat 1/2), ambulances, clean portajohns, and marshalls/police protection for the courses. And we think we should get this for $30? I know, some races manage to do it, but some people work for minimum wage too. It doesn't make it a viable long-term strategy. If more races made money, more promoters would stay in it, get experience, and maybe continue to improve their races. I point to the Verge CX series. I hope those guys aren't giving up eight entire weekends just for the love of the sport, because if so they will tire of it sooner or later. Putting on quality cx races like that is no small feat, but compared to a killer road race it's got to be less complicated. And yet the series has been very well attended at $35x2 for each weekend.

OK, time to go. Let's make a deal, no charging $75 without putting on a much better than average race. Until $75 becomes an average entry anyway. And hopefully by then average quality will be so good that it's a non-issue. No proofing, thanks for reading.

New Hardware

I've been riding my current cx bike for a few seasons now. That's what I've been thinking. Then I started thinking for real and realized that I bought it in the fall of 2004. And it was already used then. Not sure how much, but quite a bit. Originally it was made at Hot Tubes, but then the first owner got a D2 pro contract with Team Saturn, who had Lemond as their bike sponsor. Lemond did not make cross bikes at that time, so this bike was painted up to look like one. So it must be over ten years old. It's been pretty good, not a perfect fit, as the top tube is 59 cm. The guy it was built for is taller than me and has freakishly long arms. Normally I like a 57 cm top tube. The good news though is that the bike also had a very shallow seat tube angle, and about 18 cm of setback. I run the tip of my saddle 70 mm behind the BB; on that bike I had to push it forward quite a bit, thus shortening the effective top tube length. In fact, once I got a -17 degree stem, 100mm long, my points of contact were just about perfect despite the long top tube.


The old rig, fresh back from D2R2 duty.

Ten years is a long time though, and it's time for a new bike. Connections being what they are, something from Trek or Fisher was my best option. The 2010 Fisher Presidio is pretty sweet, with near perfect dimensions and cool sliding dropouts, but alas they are not going to be available for another few months. Besides that, the design has a rather high bottom bracket (shallow drop), and I prefer lower. Enter the 2009 Presidio at the top of the entry. The geo is a touch off ideal in some ways but I think it will work better than my Hot Tubes bike. The irony here is from what I've heard, this bike is actually a rebadged Lemond Poprad, fallout from the Trek-Lemond disputes. So I go from a cx bike that is not a Lemond but is painted like one to a cx bike that is a Lemond that is painted like something else. Got it?



Speaking of connections, who do I have to know to get MY picture on the side of the BOB Magic Bus? I am going to have to have a word with Duano. Thanks for reading.

Just because...

Maybe this already made the rounds, but too bad, I'm lazy. And it's good to know that I'm not the only one who sees irony in whining about entry fees when they are a tiny fraction of what you spend on your bikes.

Here you go

Thanks for reading.

Racing in Lowell and running in Norwood is almost like living in Methuen

Three or four of you might recognize where that title comes from. For the rest of you, at least it's more creative than "weekend update." And that's all it is, as I'm truly down to one post a week. Not much to write about on the training front last week; it wasn't one of my better efforts. After a Napper Tandy's PBR marathon with the work crew Wednesday night, my normal Thursday tempo ride turned into an easy spin to get some air. No openers on Friday either. So Saturday morning I got to Lowell a tad late as well, electing to pre-ride the course at a walking pace rather than do a real warmup. And I entered the 35+ too, as both the 35's and the 45's were going to be on the course at the same time anyway, so why not start with the first group? Well, my legs had a reason. The race started with a lap and a half around the cinder track and right away I was textbook all blocked up. My legs were stone.

Anyhow, after avoiding a cartwheeling (see video here, at 0:59) Ringer I went around a few more first lap mechanical casualties. The 35+ guys, at least the ones mid-pack and at the rear, are much faster than similarly placed 45+ riders. I had to race for positions. And then these punks had the gall to race back. There was never any rest really. After a few laps my legs felt better, and I usually managed to find a wheel around the track and other drafting sections. The laps were rather short though, and since the race was supposed to be 45 minutes plus, I was expecting one more than I got. The lead 45+ guys (who started two minutes back) had begun coming through, and of course I yielded the fast line, but some of my 35+ competitors took advantage and jumped by too. I really did not care, so long as I could latch on to them for the fast drafting sections. But on the last lap that they somehow knew about (I never got a bell) they sprinted and the race was over. I never got a chance to empty the tank. I was done in 42 minutes, and so the leaders of the 35+ had to be under 40. So much for 45 minutes. Didn't matter, the race was a piss poor effort, but I still averaged 160 bpm so it was not a total loss. And I lived, which was not a given on this course.

The good news (there is always good news here at solobreak) was that not going balls out on the last lap probaby left me in better shape for Sunday's Norwood Turkey Trot 4 miler. This is a pretty big race, as the greater Norwood/Dedham area is home to several running clubs who attend the trot in team quests for bragging rights and prize monies. You can always expect a strong field here. The course is a certified distance, and not flat, so that's cool too. I missed this last year but ran something like 24:04 in 2007, making it my 4 mile PR as there are so few races at this distance to begin with.

Saturday night I did not sleep well and that along with a few other factors conspired to have me running late for this race too. I'd hoped to do some good loosening up and running prior, but that could not happen. On the way over I called T-Vo to make sure it would be OK to park in his condo lot, as it's right adjacent to the race start. That saved me a few minutes. I managed a quick warmup run and some leg swings before heading to the start. T-Vo was planning on pacing off one of the Striders (he just joined), rolling the dice and going out at 5:45 pace. I was like, no f'n way. Managing 6:11's for 10k at Canton just a few weeks back did little for my confidence. I was thinking hang back and run the first mile in 6:15. And it's kind of downhill.

At this race I don't even line up front row. There were around 600 total, and three or four women club runners all were watching each other and lined up on the front. I took second row behind the HFC guys. Gun goes off and the real runners all bolt, and about a dozen wannabees foolishly go with them. I was running pretty fast but still must have had 35 people in front of me after a quarter mile. T-Vo slowly pulled ahead, sticking to his plan. I was just making sure that I was behind him. Then I spied Don from GNRC. He is over 50 and usually runs around the same speed as me, at least until we come to a big uphill. So I slotted in behind him. First mile came up in six flat. My HR was only 150 at that point and I felt ok, so I made an executive decision to try and hold this pace for the second mile, which is mostly uphill.

A lot of the early rabbits faded on the gentle grade. Don and about four others persisted just ahead of me. T-Vo was still going strong, at least 15 seconds ahead, right on his plan. Mile two came up at 12:02, so damn near a perfect split considering that we were nearing the high point on the course. I passed GNRC Don and four other guys all at once on small rise. Now there was nobody between me and T-Vo. The lead three women were 10-20 seconds ahead of him, still all right together. The end of the third mile is downhill. I was feeling good and gaining on T-Vo, but also hearing footsteps behind me. A guy came by and I got on his heels, and he ran by the fading Tom, who encouraged me. The 3 marker came up at 17:55 for a 5:53 downhill split. I stayed glued on the guy through a little neighborhood loop that had some wind and took us to the low point on the course. As soon as it turned gently back up toward the finish road, I heard the guy gasp a bit and I picked it up.

One of the women had been dropped by the other two and that gave me someone to chase. After catching and passing her, the others were not far ahead. The finish seems like it takes forever to come up at this race, but I was holding it together pretty well and knew I was speeding up, not slowing down. I hit the line at 23:45 for a 5:50 split, but per usual I got boned in the chute and my official time was three seconds slower at 23:48. I will take it for sure, as this was my first race on the sunny side of a 6:00 pace in over a year, any distance. This was good for 17th overall, 4th in my age group but since the AG winner got the prize for first overall master, I still took home the third place prize of a plastic pint glass, adorned with the Norwood Mustangs logo and filled with Halloween candy! This pleased me, being perfectly honest.

The running race was a mental boost. Lately I've been feeling like a bag of donuts and not racing all that well. Considering that you normally lose two seconds per mile per pound, and that I'm at least five pounds higher than my ideal running race weight, I wasn't expecting any PRs. And oh yeah, my new cross bike came in today. I'll edit this for typos later. Thanks for reading.

Plymouth South CX - short intervals

Saturday morning it was pouring rain outside my windows. No, it wasn't cold, but I bagged out on Plymouth North just the same. Stayed in. Drank coffee. Accomplished a few things. Finally took my Macbook in to see what was wrong with it. Turns out the logic board was not fried as I'd thought. A new fan and a new HD will set me back slightly less than an extended warranty would have cost me had I elected to purchase one. Of course, my data is gone. Backup? Umm, maybe around here somewhere. Whatever, I've lived without it for the past three months, so it couldn't have been that important.

Sunday was a new day, and Plymouth South a new venue for me. It was still raining. I left late. Soon I discovered that route 44 is now a friggin' highway all the way to route 3. When did that happen? I'm usually on top of these things. This still may not have been the quickest way, but it got me there in time (barely) to do the 45+ race. At reg they were doing a second race discount, only $10, so I signed up for both the 45+ and the noontime 35+ for just $40, slightly more than a single Verge series entry. Doing two races generally doesn't work. I joked with the Link guys in the parking lot that I'd probably go too hard in the first "warmup" race, and then not have a good second race either. And that's exactly what happened.

There was no time for a course preview before the 45+. I rode about a quarter of the lap before lining up, so I went to the back of the ~30 riders assembled. I was DFL heading off the pavement. Had to run the first lap runup in traffic, no worries, I'm just warming up, right? Then we get into the field and about eight guys are going really slow with a gap in front of them. Sensing an opportunity to "move up" and having all of one minute of warmup in my legs now, I burn a match racing around all of them. Then I hit the sandy "runup." At this point in the day, it was still deep sand, and everyone was running. Passed a few more, then torqued around the soggy field and through the pits. After that more singletrack that I hadn't seen before, so I cooled it and held my place. Another hill, a small mud bog, a tiny hill, then the barriers before another soggy field slog through the pit. Quick singletrack downhill, then a short power climb back up to the paved start road.

If you are keeping score, this makes 4.5 short climbs, a mud bog, three soggy fields, and a paved road, totaling 9.5 "power sections" per lap, interwoven with extremely brief downhill/easy "recovery" areas. Normally my HR graphs in a cross race are a flat line, hitting 160 bpm and staying there until the end. Not this one. All bumpy. Average HR was only 154 but the race felt harder than most. Even hit 170 bpm at the end of my 45+ "warmup" race. That was dumb. Actually my execution for the entire race was dumb. By the end of the first lap the leaders were gone, and I still barely knew the course. If I'd been out for a good result in the 35+, I'd have soft-pedaled the power sections and just tried to dial in all the tricky parts. But noooooo. I had to stay ahead of the Woodsman (aka Dan Russell - Bike Link). Tom Stevens (Gearworks) was not too far ahead either, though I had no real hope of catching him. I even fell once. Then on the last lap, the next guy in front of me, with nobody within reach ahead of him, was clearly mailing it in, coasting a lot and looking over his shoulder to keep tabs on me. He had at least fifteen seconds to spare, and probably ample gas in the tank to hold me off if I got anywhere near him. But instead of doing the same thing, I went for it anyway, justifying my stupidity by considering the "training benefit" of going full gas even though I'm starting another race in just an hour. After all, part of the idea of doing the double was that I need to step it up if I'm going to make top 40 at nationals, right? So I buried myself for half a lap and finished five seconds behind the guy, in 11th. Five laps took 42 minutes and change. Curley (Gearworks) and Keven Callahan (Bike Link guy #2) took the top spots in just over 39 minutes.

I found the bike wash, hosed the bike, then bummed some chain lube off race announcer Paul Nixon, who was generously doling out the blogger love for Nega-Coach every time I limped through the start/finish. Then I changed kits, pinned numbers, drank some Gatorade, and talked to way too many people instead of riding a bit as I should have between races. The 35+ start came up quickly. I lined up in the second row this time, right next to Gewilli, aka "The Assassin." On the gun I had his wheel. Knowing the course, I should have been more aggressive, but I wasn't really, and I got knocked off again on the first hill, which had become a lot more greasy. Then I dismounted for the sandy hill, which by now had a groove cut in it and was rideable, and Willi was gone. Another mistake I'd made was putting more air in my Tufo front tire. When I got there in the morning, the thing was nearly flat, probably 20 psi, but lacking time, that's the way I rode it in the 45+. It was great, just a little squishy when sprinting on the pavement, so I gave it about six strokes (huh-huh) with the pump between races. That was five too many. Now I was bouncing all over the place on the second field. And my legs felt torched.

Yup, it took about a half a lap to realize that race #2 on the day would not be all I'd hoped for. My legs felt like, well, like I'd already done a race that day. Adding insult to fatigue, the course had changed quite a bit, and my knowledge/experience of racing earlier was of little value. But I continued just the same. I don't think I passed anyone. A few who'd had issues during the opening lap passed me. I saw Gewilli on the two-way by the pit and realized he must have had nearly a minute on me. He was flying. Coming through the start/finish after two laps the cards said four to go. FUCK! Are you shitting me? This is going to hurt. So I backed off a little, hoping that Willi and the others would go up in flames and come back to me late in the race. Then the next lap the cards said two to go? Wonder if they changed their minds, but I wasn't complaining. Back to hard intervals. Nobody to chase though. The first two climbs took a max effort just to get up, but they were short. The one before the mud bog and the last one were good power climbs, and I totally dug in for these. Ended the race in 15th, somehow over two minutes faster than the first race. That was weird, because other than the sandy runup the course felt like it had gotten heavier and slower. The 35+ really do go faster than the 45+, duh. Maybe I should do this more often. Maybe not.

Afterward I hosed down the bike again and congratulated Willi on his ride. He slayed it and got 11th, right behind the fast guys. Speaking of which, Sammy came by the car and said they were going out for a ride in the woods. I thought about it, but had already put on dry clothes while chatting with GCD, so I passed. Instead I swapped for file treads and rode over to Myles Standish on the road. To my surprise, new pavement! It ran all the way in on the old TT start, and up College Pond Road. Could the entire park have been repaved? Uh, no. Once you got to Circuit Road it was back to the old crap. Bummer. I rode the Charge Pond loop before limping back to the school, bagging over an hour of additional saddle time, bringing me close to three hours on the day. Sort of made up for my lazy Saturday. The big story were the intervals. (9.5 x 5 laps in the 45+) + (9.5 x 5 laps in the 35+) made for a grand total of 95 little sprint efforts over the course of the morning. No wonder I'm feeling so smoked. The end. Thanks for reading.

VAM

 

Or "what I did on my lunch break Wednesday." Here are two excerpts from my Polar HRM graphs. On the left I'm riding up the Big Blue access road on my CX bike. Don't worry, I didn't make the climb in four minutes. I had cut across on the fire road from the state police barracks and did not feel like riding to the bottom, so I was starting part way up. This was an OK time though, and notice that the VAM is just over 1300m/hour. When I was done I rode back to work and changed into my running clothes, then headed back over on foot. This time though, I "ran" up the ski slope. Not the steepest part, but even way over on the left there are some pitches and it's steep enough to be touch and go on an MTB. Anyhow, I cherry picked the best 90 meters or so of climbing out of the total just to show that my VAM running was nearly equal to what I did riding 45 minutes earlier, with roughly the same heart rate. I know it doesn't mean anything, but what else am I going to write about? This was the second time this season that I did this run. It felt a lot easier this time, and I even managed to run down the access road at about a 7 minute/mile pace. Still not as much fun as riding. Thanks for reading.

Noho - the race reports

Having received a few complaints about the lack of detail in my race reports (ok, more like gentle nudges acknowledging appreciation of the rare exceptions), today I'm going to try and recount the blow-by-blows from the weekend. As I didn't take any notes Saturday, per usual some of that data may have been overwritten, but let's go.

I had a decent week of training, meaning that I rode outdoors on the road twice, went to the gym twice, did a good run one day, and even got out for over an hour on the cx bike. Robin flew in for the weekend races, and Timmy hooked her up with a loaner bike, saving her a bundle in baggage fees. So we made some adjustments and went for a ride over at Stonehill on Friday to get it all dialed in. The 3/4 womens' race was early Saturday at 9:30, but mercifully the 4 men and 4 men 35+ were combined and their start pushed back to 8:30, so all we had to do in order to get in a decent pre-ride was to arrive by 8 am. Timmy and Garabed were just setting up the tent trailer when we parked, and the BOB base camp was established. Eric and Carrie got there a few minutes later, but Carrie decided she was too sick to race.

The course was mostly familiar to me. I was psyched that they had moved the barriers, giving a touch of flow to the "upper deck" part of the course. The bottom tier, down on the flat grass, was laid out better than ever. The trademark here are the fast, wide, sweeping turns, and I think they even added a few this year. The new start layout was superb. Granted, there were some mishaps in the steel-cage deathmatch section. I am of the mind that there are no dangerous courses, just dangerous riding, so I won't criticize. Once you got off the pavement there was still hundreds of meters of wide grass straightaways to sort out the order, so taking risks on the fenced pavement start was not necessary. At least there were no mishaps in my races.

Not that I didn't almost create one. Laying 28th in Verge points, I still got the 18th grid position for this race due to non-registrants, thus third row. At the start, once again I totally missed my pedal. Not once, not twice, more than that. I even slipped off and straddled the top tube, legs askew, all over the map on the run in to the curb hop. Nobody went down. Nobody even swore at me, even though my start was the holeshot equivalent of coming out of the men's room with my pants around my ankles and toilet paper hanging out of my ass. Eventually I got clipped in and put on a big surge along the grass. I felt good, probably because I'd taken advantage of the Saris demo trainers setup at the start/finish. I was pushing my warmup right until about thirty seconds before my callup.

I think I ran the sand the first lap, as I was still pretty deep in the group. After that I think I rode it once, but it was slower so I defaulted to running it. Anyway, it wasn't a huge factor IMHO. Back to the first lap, on the big runup I did not do so well, losing momentum. Up top I was ok, no passing, down the chute, over the tracks, and around the fast turns by the pit I was making up time for a change. This was my first race in a long, long time on a pure file tread front tire. I had a Vittoria XN? I think, no side knobs, inflated to around 30 psi. On the starting line I'd looked around and did not see ANYBODY else running files? But I was hooked up. These turns were the exact same as last year and I had that part of the course wired. I was running up on the back of people coming out of the turns.

The ride/runup, not so much. The Cronoman had convinced me that using the big ring in order to avoid torque spin was the way to go. He was right, so long as you came over the tracks jump and into the hill with some good speed. In traffic, that was not always happening. Up top I was good except for the fast left turn immediately after where the barriers used to be. With my tire I was impaired in the muddy spot coming onto the little paved path. After the race Garabed pointed out to me that you could pretty much go around it all and that is what I did on Sunday, much better. As it was, on Saturday I had to use my ample "roadie power" to close a little gap there. Ditto after the hairpin back onto the autobahn section. Luckily, with the smoothish front tire and roadie legs, my pavement speeds were a cut above my nearest rivals.

The turns off the autobahn and back down to the barriers did not create any problems for me. I felt fast and smooth here, much better than in years past. Not sure if it was the file front or just less acorns on the track. The barrier setup worked for me too. At most of the UCI races so far this year, I think the 40 cm barriers were more like 45 cm, with gaps underneath. Noho was sweet. In fact, the entire race organization and course were superb. I've had an axe to grind with Noho ever since they expanded to two days and bumped my favorite race, Farmington, off the calendar. This was the first year I (reluctantly) went for both days. I must admit they've won me over. JD was ALL OVER THE PLACE both days, working his friggin' ass off to keep the course in top shape. I was tired just watching him. How grueling does life at home have to be before you start working like that to relax on the weekends? Just kidding Meg...

I can't totally recall who/what/where I was competing directly against on Saturday. After the first lap, I started doing much better on the runup, as I was rolling pretty far up it, dismounting and shouldering all in one motion without losing forward momentum. This kind of smoothness saves bushels of energy and time. And I was killing people on the pavement (not in the Gewilli way, I mean going faster than them). But I was not losing much time anywhere else. The Cronoman was leading a large group just up the road. I battled hard and after three laps or so had almost just clawed my way onto the back. Out of the sand and into the sweeper that ran between the sandpit and the road, I sprinted for all I was worth, causing the back tire to lose its grip. The bike got completely sideways, but being a magician on a bike, I immediately went into AMA flattrack Jay Springsteen mode and did a classic feet up power slide to save it without missing a beat. Onto the back of the line and getting some draft for a change felt nice. I'd been getting up the steep chute no problem, but as I noted earlier, I was flying into the bottom of it, very easy to do when you're on your own. In the group (at the back of it), not so much, and I got messed up and had to check it at the bottom and did not make it. So after just half a lap of sitting on, I was back into a death chase.

By now we were inside one or two laps to go, and the group ahead exploded. I pushed hard, ran the sand like a sprinter, and with a few turns to go could see Keith Button (Noreast), a short distance ahead, with Kevin Callahan (Bike Link) and the Cronoman just beyond him. Keith looked vulnerable and I railed the last few turns to get his wheel before we hit the asphalt. He's even less of a sprinter than me and I rolled a huge gear past him to take 13th, 3:17 after the winner, my closest to the front of the year.

Since we were staying over to do the double on Sunday, we got to hang out in the camper, drink beer, eat well, and watch the elite races. Later all of us (sans Carrie and the Cronoman) retreated to the Red Roof Inn in Deerfield before heading out to "Wolfie's" for stuff like fried clams, reuben's, and angus burgers. Except for Garabed, who ate a salad... Sunday we went back to the venue even earlier. The Cronoman got there before 8am too, and Carrie felt better so she came ready to race. We did a three lap pre-ride. I took a few pics of the 3/4 womens' race before getting on the trainer. Once again I was 18th on the grid. This time I nailed the clip in for a change. I was moving up smoothly until the usual suspects who ride over their heads to the detriment of themselves and everyone near them came forth and started jamming in front, only to immediately create gaps.

I ran the sand every lap on day two. It was fast and reliable. On all the sweepers, I felt even faster than Saturday. The ride/runup did not go as nicely. Most laps I ended up running, which was just as fast or faster so long as you planned on it in advance, but the energy cost was much higher. But if you tried to ride and got knocked off, you'd lose big time and I got gapped off twice in this situation, both times costly on a course with so much drafting. The knuckleheads who race like it's the last lap messed me up a few times. This was a course where some cooperation in small group could draw you up to the next group, but Lynchie and Cunningham don't get it and continually undermined any chance of group success.

I made all the efforts that I had to in order to stay with the group and draft. We gained and lost riders at various times, but the makeup was the Cronoman (BOB), Cunningham (NEBC), McInnis (JRA), Ruiz (Keltic), Tarbox, Lynchie (Bike Link), and me. We got up to Nyberg (Benidorm) at one point. Keith Button (Noreast) and Chris Burke (Planet Bike) were with us some of the time. Timmy (BOB) and even Stevens (Gearworks) were within a few seconds of us too. The Cronoman likes to pull, but I was annoyed that he was giving McInnis a free ride, so I got in between them and let the gap open. This did force them to sprint around, but the gap closed quickly, Eric still led down the pavement, but now I was at the back. Someone didn't make the rideup, and I jumped off, but Brian made it up anyway and I was left working harder than I should have.

Cunningham, McInnis, Ruiz, and Tarbox got a gap on me, Marro, and Lynchie someplace in the final laps and we never caught back up to them. I ended up racing hard with Burke but got away from him at the barriers, catching Crono and Lynchie. Going into the sand I went around and attacked it hard running (see the pictures below). Eric came with me and Lynchie was gone. It was too late to catch anyone else, even though they were not far ahead. In the pic of me and Crono rounding the third from last turn, you can see Nyberg heading for the pavement. Eric came around me handily, which was good, as he needed the Verge points to maintain his front row grid spot in the final races, which I will be out of town for anyway.

There you have it. Sunday's finish had me 2:50 down on race winner John Mosher (Wheelworks), even better than Saturday, nearly halving the time gaps from the early season Verge races. How many words was this? Thanks for reading.

NoHo Photo Essay

Day 2, final lap, me and the Cronoman in the last few turns.


Leadout or sprint? He beat me easily, even from the hoods.


This was the setup. We attacked into the sandpit in order to shed Lynchie (Bike Link).


Timmy was right behind us. You can see Lynchie in the background.


Timmy had a recovery beverage ready for me before I could even get out of my kit.


It was on to spectating the elite races. Karen Potter on Day 1.


Mo had fallen but she could get up! The Cronoman also face-planted here, so she had good company. This was on Saturday and Mo got up to finish 4th and retain her Verge series leader's jersey.


Reuter! shows how it's done on day 2.


Mouth open. You write the caption.



RK on the runup.


A young spectator, properly restrained...


This is actually from Saturday. Timmy made chicken cacciatore. 35+ race winner Jonny Bold graced us with a visit.

OK, that was exhausting. Maybe I'll find the energy to write up a few race reports. I also put up more pictures on my flickr page. Thanks for reading.

My first cyclocross race ever

Well, not really. Hell, it wasn't even my first 'cross race of the weekend. But if you'd watched me during the first two laps at Putney yesterday, you might question whether I'd ever ridden a bike before, let alone ridden cross for 23 years. This was one of those races when I just could not do anything right. If there was a rookie mistake to make, I made it, except maybe tripping over the barriers, which I somehow managed to avoid.

The day started well enough. The weather was awesome. I drove out on Route 2 without getting any tickets. Before even going into the shop to register, I got three homemade donuts from the food table setup by the Putney School. This would be the first of several trips to the concession. At registration I was greeted by the smiling, familiar face of Kirsten Jeppesen. Long time friends are what racing at Putney is all about. That, the donuts, and the burritos. And spending money in the shop. This year's bounty:



The first race was just starting so I kitted up and waited for it to conclude before doing a few reconnaissance laps. As always, the course was pretty muddy and slick in the woods sections. The cornfield was not too bad this year, more power sucking tackiness than slippery. Friday night before Canton (which we'll get to later) I was up until 1 am gluing a half dozen wheels and tires, so for Putney I was running matching Tufo Prestiges for the first time this year. The alleged worst tire in the world, which I've been running on the rear all year, did not work so well up front. But I stuck with it anyway. Maybe a mistake. Up until this point I've used an ancient, dried out, hand me down green original version Michelin Mud on the front, but I figured I'd try the Tufo and the low pressure that everyone raves about. It was smoother on the lumps and bumps, and I was hanging it out pretty good on the single track, but in the long bog before the cornfield the bike was on autopilot and heading for the trees every lap. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

My starts are generally pretty poor. I do better coming from behind anyway (huh-huh) but since Putney was a small race with a small field and an uphill start, I wanted to give it my best effort. My legs really felt like shit during the pre-ride, a surprise as I'd taken pretty good care of myself after Saturday's race. In order to give my pathetic start sprint the best chance, I got on the trainer and put in a complete crit warmup, right out of the Myerson/Cycle-Smart playbook. I even threw in a simulated start sprint at the end, complete with clip in. Heading to the line I was confident I could give the other dozen geezers lining up in the 45+ field a real hard time.

At Putney, they do a wave type masters start. The 35+ went first, then us a minute later, then last the 55+ a minute behind. On the whistle I still did not nail the clip in, but I had the power going through the gears. Planning on doing a classic "second sprint" right before the left turn off the pavement, I was foiled when two guys dived-bombed out to the right, across my wheel, setting up crazy wide for the turn. No matter, I was able to cut inside and pass a few, and onto the grass in 6th, with a tight single file line up behind the Cronoman, who would end up leading this one wire to wire. That's right, you read it here first, he won! Woot! And I'm in a good spot. Over the barriers I'm sucking wind but OK. This concludes the "good part of Solo's race" section of our story.

The Unraveling

Before we get to that, allow me to explain the new subheadings feature. Although I haven't quite yet relegated myself to the one stinking post a week group, that's all I've been managing lately. Since a good portion of my audience are a bunch of spoon-fed private-schooled whiners (you know who you are, no need to link), we've received a few complaints about the posts being too long for their bite-sized attention spans. The hombes aren't able to stomach the big-boy shredded wheat. So I'm trying the subheadings. This way the faithful can take in some solo, go back to "work" or whatever it is they do all day, and come back later after their coddled, oversupported, atrophied brains have had a little nap and recovery time. Back to our story...

When we left off things were looking pretty good. Near the "front" into the single track. First issue, it had dried out a lot since my pre-ride. In fact, the edges were now much slower than the formerly slick stripe down center. Slow enough in fact that my use of the edges cost me spots right away. Things kept getting worse. Not being used to going out so hard, I simply forgot how to dismount going into the muddy three log short runup. This was the 19th annual Putney CX. I was probably at the first six or seven, then skipped several years during my racing hiatus, but have been back there the past three, this one being the fourth. I rolled right into the logs with my right foot still clipped in, and toppled over forward, into the path of the few remaining riders behind me, who all just used me for traction as they ran over me. Stumbling up and remounting, things didn't get much better. I tried to pull it together but going down through the bog my bike was all over the place.

Somehow I managed to make it to the cornfield and tack on near the rear of what was still a long conga line. The Cronoman was on the point, and so far the race had not exploded. Out of the field and onto the road, I frantically tried to sprint ahead in an effort to regain lost positions. Not a great idea when you're already 95% blown and you've got the biggest runup in New England cyclocross up ahead. I'd practiced a late dismount in order to roll as far up the hill as possible, but we all know how well that doesn't work in first lap traffic. Sorry dude in front of me. You didn't need your achilles tendons anyway, did you? On the run I proceeded to push myself all the way to 100% blown, maybe even a bit more. On the remount, reaching the peak of my day's misery, my take off foot simply failed to take off. My brain sent a signal down the nerves, but nothing happened when it got there. I don't think my leg even got close to clearing the seat. I simply tackled my bike. Hard. Right in front of all the runup spectators. Awesome. Now I was secure in last. Notice that there is nobody behind me here. At least I did not trip and fall again...



Oh but it gets better. If you've raced Putney, you know that it's so cool to have a race right at the shop, with a great party atmosphere. The sound system this year was unbelievable, as was the music selection. When you are totally anaerobic, bleeding from the shins, covered with muck and off the back, nothing puts you back in the groove like Kool and the Gang's Jungle Boogie at 90 decibels. Seriously, Putney rocks. But, the family friendly party atmosphere and course that winds around the shop has its pitfalls. Now I know some of you guys can't always arrange babysitting and choose to tempt fate by letting your offspring roam free while you race, but please, please, please in the future do the right thing and tie them to a tree. My day, and the life of an unattended toddler nearly ended on lap two, around the back of the shop where the two BMX jumps are. As I flew over the first muddy jump, the kid, back turned to me, ran right out in front of me, toward the slightly older kids (probably charged with looking after him) playing on the left side at the top of muddy jump number two. Now the last time I ran a kid over, he was about 11 years old, and he managed to take me down hard in the process. That was on the road. This kid was about three and was going to get the full monty of two knobbies and a chainring right across his entire body. Putney luck was with me though as I screamed "NO!!!" at the top of my lungs and he just froze in his tracks while I stormed past in front of him. Don't worry, I never touched the brakes...

Back down the slippery slope and into the bog without a child kill under my belt, the bog still owned me. Near the end I almost lost it and careened toward a tree, barely managing to come to a near stop in the ankle deep mud without buying it before churning away at .0005 mph. At this point dropping out seemed like my best option, but we don't do this stuff to drop out, do we? Instead I tried to be smooth for a lap (translation: rode just fast enough to keep the bike up while trying to pull myself together and recover). Remember those 55+ guys who started a minute behind us? Well the two leaders caught me. Awesome. At least this got my head back in the game. I stayed with them to the corn field again, but then the first one dropped the second one, who I was behind. When we got to the road I was recovered enough to tell the second one (60+ National Champ Pip Bannister) to get on my wheel, and I buried myself into the headwind on the road in pursuit of the first guy. I ended up catching him, but then he dropped me in the woods anyway. They were telling him two to go and me four to go? They are not supposed to do that when there is more than one field on the course at one time, but the races were different lengths I guess.

The next lap a Gearworks guy came tearing past me. I was thinking "wow, he is flying for a 55+ guy, wonder why he is in third." It has been so long since I've been lapped in a race, I'd forgotten the 35+ field started a minute ahead of us. This was Rob Holt on his way to winning. I still did not figure it out until the second and third placed 35+ guys caught up to me. Wisely I got on their train and they towed me all the way up to two guys from my field! Woo-hoo, I'm in this. And those two guys assumed I was a 35+ too and pulled over to let me by. Sportsman that I am, not to mention not wanting to pull, I informed them that I was in their group, and it was on for the last lap (missing one because we were considered lapped). The 4th place 35+ caught us in the cornfield but when we got to the road he told them hey, my spot is secure. They kind of sat there so I took off and fled up the runup, beating them both to the line. Third from last in a 13 rider field! But wait, when the results went up they scored me second to last. I guess when you're that far down and lapped they can't always pay close enough attention.

But the Cronoman won, which was cool, but of course he still took off right away in order to get home and take in his daily requirement of twelve hours of mindless TV reruns. Timmy got 6th, which was awesome, rocking the old school yellow BOB skinsuit. He had to leave too, but I had a brew and a burrito while grooving out to the tunes. Ran into G-Ride, listened to his race story, and then even met up with Tommy Masterson and his new family. More old friends at Putney. And I made it home without getting a ticket too.

Canton CX

Sorry folks, we're out of time for now. Back later with details of how this one went pretty well, especially compared with Putney. Here are a few pics for now, courtesy of Soups.


Runup on lap one. I am down the bottom. Not a great start, probably the last guy to start from the front row.


Coming off the track on the first lap. Moved up a few spots from the runup...


Stylin' in the chicane.


Into the runup for a second time with zencycle not far behind in the black and yellow.


My lap two pain face.


Dismounting with Keith from Noreast.


Both feet in the air for a change.

More later...

Forward Bite Bytes

Garabed rips it through the forest. Photo courtesy of Sean Savignano/Rainbow Bike

Here is a section of the course from Maine on Saturday, the one that G-Ride says required no skill to navigate. Not sure the third guy in line would agree. I have no time to work on "Roadie Power" right now, so this will have to tide you over. Not many pics surfaced from Maine. New England doesn't just lag behind the rest of the country in the wearing of silly costumes at cross races. Maybe that stuff is what brings the photogs out. I have a flickr feed for images tagged "cyclocross" and get a few hundred per week, but practically zero from the New England races. Anyway, thanks to Sean S. for sending this along. Maybe now that Sups has a broken leg he can waste his weekends taking pictures at the next few races? Thanks for reading.

Blast from the Past

When I first started this blog, one of my ideas was to do a post noting all the people who've helped me out as a cyclist. Remember, back in the stone age there was no internet and no professional coaches, just a few books and a club-based mentoring system. I found this sport on my own, but was lucky to meet a bunch of great people early on. My first team was the Boston Road Club and my first team captain was Kent Landrum, pictured above. Leading a gang out of the city every Wednesday night, Kent would bring the group to HoJo's at the foot of Blue Hills for our weekly slugfest. Sammy Morse was a helmetless bike messenger then. Jim McMillen and Jack Davies used to beat us up on the climbs and in the sprints. Adam Myerson was a 14 year old who wasn't afraid to give it right back to them. We had a host of others on those rides. Kent wasn't the greatest rider in the world but he was a dedicated racer and a huge supporter of mine when I was first starting out. He stopped racing a few years ago but once in a while I see him at the running races, and we had our annual reunion at the Canton Fall Classic 10k on Sunday. Very fitting that this is just a mile or so from the old Wednesday night ride meeting spot.



Oh yeah, there was a cyclocross race on Saturday too. Went well for me, sure, the fields were small for a Verge races, but most of the top guys in the points chase were there. The course was, um, a little wet. Hope somebody got some good mud pictures. I missed a pedal at the start again, totally sucked on the holeshot, and was second to last out of thirty starters after the first minute. Then it got better, and I rallied my way up to 9th, my best cx race of the year so far. I'll credit discovering some good lines and strong running for the results. Above, in the tent trailer post-race, we have me, Garabed, and Timmy, who was also a BRC team mate of mine from way back in 1987. Timmy and I, along with the Cronoman, have been on all four teams together, BRC, Nashua Velo, the Bike Link, and now BOB. That says something.



Maine was cold. Timmy is a smart guy. Thanks for reading.

Just looking at the pictures

Billy "BMX" Casazza gave up his normal spot sucking Marro's wheel to show off for the tifosi.

You can read it too if you want. But in the interest of throwing together an easy post, I'm going with links to pictures. From the little cross race in Londonderry, we have this Team BOB-centric spread courtesy of Ron Slaga. There are some others here on the velodrome site, along with the results. These feature me (with the green front tire, in case you can't tell), as well as zencycle, who for some reason is not listed in the results. The Cronoman, Armand, Mike the Bike and Billy C (showing off his BMX skills above) are also prominently featured. Best race of the day, and perhaps the most exciting five-rider race ever was the A womens event. Sue MacAttack (Gearworks, but honorary BOB) led almost wire-to-wire, but due to some fuzzy offical's math the 45 minute race ran closer to an hour. Emma from Mt Holyoke put on a race long charge from about thirty seconds back in third, running Sue down in the infield during the last quarter of a lap. She then put on a huge surge and won, much to the dismay of the BOB faithful. We heckled Sue mercilessly during the race, because honestly we thought she had it in the bag. Ooops.

So you can see in the results that your hero did not do so well either. I took a "free week" last week, not touching my bike from Providence until I got to the track Saturday. I did run a few times, but mostly it was a week of work, wine, and umm, stuff other than bike riding. After managing two pre-ride laps of the unusual but actually pretty cool course, I lined up with the other dozen starters in the mixed 35+ - 45+ field. Oh yeah, it wasn't raining either. It was, as they say "perfect cross weather." The Londonderry course starts with a lap of the velodrome before entering a tight uphill bottleneck, so the holeshot is critical. And I just could not seem to clip in. Even Armand was ahead of me, and I had to do the awkward traffic jam dismount and clusterphuck run through the bottleneck before settling into the singletrack in last. Armand let me by, and then I killed myself to reel in another guy before crashing myself out in the bottleneck spot on the next lap.

Eventually I settled down and passed a few more riders, and learned to clip out and do the flat-track foot out thing in the tire section. But it was too late, and I limped in about five minutes down on race winner and fellow Easton native Brian McGinnis (JRA Cycles). The Cronoman brought more shame to our hallowed squadra with his second place finish. Billy was ahead of me too. My back was aching from the pounding on the rough infield section, so I skipped out on the 3/4 race and went for a road ride with the Cronoman instead. Any excuse to do the Tour of Londonderry. No Feltslave sightings, but we did get harrassed by a few asshats who objected to having to cross the yellow line on a deserted road to get around us.

Sunday it was cold and rainy. Rather than head to nearby Wrentham for some "epic" conditions pasture-cross, I laced up my racing flats at Florian Hall in the Dot for the Firefighter's Local 718 10k. My teammate Les is an FF from Chelmsford, and is a good runner who is quite adept with the post-race pint glass, so this would be fun. With the Sunday race calendar having big marathons and half marathons in both Lowell and Newport, as well a big money three-miler in Newton for the speed merchants, Dorchester would not have a stacked field. The group was over 500 runners, at least half of whom are firefighters out to have a good time and/or compete for the $500 FF team prize. FDNY sent up a team of ringers, and at the gun civilian Tony DeLogne ran off and hid, with two of the FDNY guys next. Another one or two civilians and then me. The race runs right down Morrisey Boulevard, which is totally flat, but of course subject to flooding. This is also a high-traffic area, but we had two lanes coned off, heavy law enforcement presence at the intersections, and a fire truck with one of those horns that makes drivers jump out their sunroofs for a pace vehicle, so no problems.

First mile was in 6:07, too fast for me. Ooops again. It was raining and there was some wind off the bay, but not too bad. I backed it down a notch and mile two was 6:24. The course then turned into the UMass campus, where it was a bit windier. Third mile also 6:24. I was overheating a bit in my famous orange shirt, as I'd expected to be a lot wetter than I was. I'm glad I wore my racing shoes though, because there is nothing to them so when I ran through a puddle it only took about three steps after before all the water had squished out. There was more wind on the way back around the school, but still not fierce. I had one civilian about five seconds ahead of me, and a few guys behind me. One of them kept letting out giant belches, and he was also casually heckling runners still heading the other direction on the two way part of the course. Being close to my limit, I figured this guy was sure to blow me off with his final kick, as if he could joke around and talk like that he must have something left. Back on the boulevard I tried to pick it up. Mile four was 6:15. And then a HUGE tailwind picked up, much more than what was in our faces on the way out. On the slippery steel deck drawbridge, I tip-toed a bit just to make sure I did not fall, but otherwise it was like running downhill; the wind was that strong.

Mile five passed in 6:07, and nobody had come by me. The guy in front of me turned it on at that point though, really opening up the gap. I was suffering but hanging on. Having a cross race in my legs from the day prior probably did not help. Normally that will knock my average HR the next day down by 10 bpm, but I was at 163, pretty much the bottom of my normal red zone these days. Mile six was also 6:07, and we turned onto Hilltop for the final push. The Belcher had not been heard from for a while, as apparently the pace of the last two miles was too much for him. But 100 yards from the line, a young kid from FDNY came flying out of nowhere. I'd already maxed out and honestly felt good about my speed, but this guy was motoring and beat me in for fifth. I crossed in 38:49, which was good for a civilian age group medal.

Not counting Walpole last month, which was really just a training run, this was my first 10k since Canton last year, where I ran over a minute faster on a much tougher course. Soon after that I started having the foot issue. This year my foot is still getting a bit sore on top, but more on the lateral than the medial part. Makes me apprehensive but I'm still running. This week the Canton 10k is coming up on Sunday, so I've got some decisions to make. It does not seem like I'm running as well as I'd like, but Canton is pretty much an annual ritual for me so I'd like to see how I can do. It is hilly, and the downhills on pavement are what irritate my foot. And there is a Verge cross weekend in Maine this weekend too, so I need to decide if I want to spend the dough to race up there on Saturday, and again try to suck it up for a 10k the next day. Not the best way to excel, but what the hell, it's all just for fun. Thanks for reading.