Harvard, Massachusetts that is. We used to have a race there, 100k, 15 laps of a tough circuit. The course included a stiff stairstep climb, the lower portion of which was later used as the descent in the BRC Veryfine Grand Prix. Both races are gone now. Harvard was always a 1/2/3 affair, and the only year I finished it was once when they held it on an alternate course over by the Fruitlands Museum. Now I know that the general area is a common training destination for the Summahvillians and metrowest set, but for me that area is normally out of range. I've ridden the races, and even trained there a bit from jumping off points like Carlisle, but never ridden up there from home before this weekend.
I've been on the email list for the Needham "Champion's Ride" for several years, even though I've never once made an appearance. This ride is hosted by a guy who wears the stars and bars on his sleeves, and is attended by a few former US and Irish national champions, among other local cycling luminaries. They meet in Needham center whenever there is no race going on, doing longish group rides out in various directions. Now that I think about it, I have run into them out on the road, just never actually been to the meeting spot. Other than it being in Needham center, I wasn't even sure of the exact location.
So this weekend, with the only race options being TT's with long drive times and early morning starts, staying home was an easy choice for me. I'd been off the bike since Tuesday night anyway, as last week's 18.5 hours training had left me struggling at Wompatuck, and I needed a break. But I'm already a touch bored with my local routes this year, so when I got the Champion's Ride email saying they'd be heading out to Harvard, the wheels started turning in my head. With all the racing of the past few months, I can't remember the last time I did a long ride. Even more important, I've been riding in the white shoes -- while they may be PRO, truly achieving the look requires bronze legs to offset the gleaming footwear. A quick check of googlemaps showed Harvard to be a little over 80k from the home base, taking the most direct non-highway route. Not as far as I'd thought. Let's go.
Of course, wasting time in the morning is somewhat of a specialty for me, and Saturday was no different. After a pot of coffee and some extra food, it was already 8:40 when I discovered my chain and tires would need a little TLC. Plus I had to select clothing (it was damp out, but forecast to be nicer), mix bottles, gather enough cash to last all day, etc. I rolled out of the driveway at 9:00 am on the dot. The ride leaves Needham at 10. It's close to 35k, I think. Uh-oh. A sense of deja-vu set in. Whenever I ride to Wells Ave, I seem to end up in the same situation. Luckily the races there always run late. But last time I tried to head up to the Dover TT (Dover is next to Needham), I ended up time trialing right out my door in a failed effort to make the start. With a full day of riding planned, not to mention coming off three rideless days, the last thing I needed was to be making a big effort in the first hour.
The roads were wet but now the sun was out. After missing the lights in Stoughton square and losing more time, I conceded that I might miss the group. I was pretty sure that they didn't always leave right on time though, so I kept going. I took my old commute route through Canton and across University Ave, then cut through Islington to Fox Hill Road, across 109 and down through the high rent district near the Dedham Polo Club. That dumped me out into Dover and I headed up Chestnut Street toward Needham. It was now 10 am. I'm headed up Chestnut, a slight grade, trucking along and there's a flashing yellow light at an intersection. I have the right of way. There's a truck coming out from the right, and a group of about ten gumbies coming out from the left, waiting to cross. At the last second, the dump truck edges forward to block my lane and stops, then waves out the window to the riders for them to come across -- and they all do, pulling out right in front of me as I'm swerving to avoid the truck. Almost like bowling. Unbelievable. I had to panic brake, and the clueless gumbies (one of whom was wearing an IBC kit) just meandered across my path as if nothing had happened. UN.FUCKING.BELIEVABLE.
A mile up I come into what looks like it must be Needham center. I'm scanning the roadside for the group, but now it's 10:07 and my hopes of finding them are slim. I was out in the middle of my lane so I don't get doored, looking around, when suddenly an oncoming bluehair in a Jaguar sedan makes a left turn right across my path. For those keeping score, this is two cutoffs in five minutes. Luckily there were no cars coming from behind her (and no yellow windbreakers waiting to pounce either) and I was able to cross way over to the extreme left, narrowly avoiding an over-the-hood half gainer with a twist.
At this point, searching for the group became secondary to staying alive, so I just rolled through town with only a few peripheral glances. They were gone, but I decided hell, I left for Harvard, may as well ride to Harvard, and maybe I'd see them on the road. Cutting across Needham, through Lower Falls, past the infamous Mount Weston, and out to 117 was a route I knew well. Once on 117, familiar from Wachusett rides, I just headed west. From training with an old team mate who lived in Sudbury, I know there are much better alternatives that run parallel to 117, but this would be long enough as it was without getting lost, and 117, while not great, is not horrible for riding either. Once through Stow I saw Harvard Road on the right, with a sign noting just six miles to my destination. This turned out to be a great road with more bikes than cars on it, as well as a nice climb up to 111, which lead into Harvard center.
I pulled up to the general store with 2:53 and 82k on the watch. I went in and they didn't have gallons of water (I'd packed Gatorade powder) so I had to do some math to figure out which of the smaller bottle selections was the least of a rip-off, and ended up making a spot decision to buy a small bottle of Coke for my back pockets. I almost never drink Coke, but I've been watching the Giro and I'm young and impressionable. Scanning the shelves for Donettes was negative and I was pretty bummed, but then I saw they had homemade cookies that looked awesome, so I bought two. And my total was only $6.40. Heading outside while scarfing a cookie and mixing my bottles, who pulls up but the group. Mark says "what are you doing here?" and of course I reply "looking for you guys." He was like cool, you can ride back with us. There were five of them, at least two of whom were speaking "Irish" which meant that I had to pause and re-process every sentence a couple of times before figuring out what the hell they were saying. There were also two guys on the ride sporting the "masters build," making me a touch worried that their pace might be too piano for me. I'd been going pretty easy up until this point and had hoped to jam a bit on the way back. But I knew that their route selection would be better than mine, and I wasn't about to take off by myself. The stop was a touch long, maybe ten minutes, but eventually we rolled out.
My fears proved unfounded as after five minutes to let the foods settle, the group accelerated to a nice tempo, flying down the hills out of town like a race. Once on the flats we swapped back from two-by to single file where needed, but always kept it around 35 kph. For a stretch through Sudbury one of the Irish guys, really old school with a wool jersey and sweet steel bike, paced us at close to 40kph for fifteen minutes. Before I knew it we were back in Wellesley, and I'd only had to take two or three pulls, albeit several minutes each. The group broke up there and I rode back to Dover with Mark. He pulled off at home where I had almost 4.5 hours down, so we were going much quicker than I'd ridden on the way out. Solo in the last hour, now was the time to make hay and I rode hard tempo all the way across Medfield and Walpole, crossing over Moose Hill in Sharon as a last effort. The weather was glorious the entire ride. I got home just before 3 pm, 5:30 ride time, almost six total, 170k. So maybe riding to Wachusett and back from here would be doable. I always thought it would be over 220k and just plain too far/hard for me, but with proper route planning it might not be so bad...
My legs compliment the shoes a little better today too. Thanks for reading.
since 2006
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Suburban Bliss
One of the good things about not racing on a holiday weekend is I get to go out and experience training without the usual car traffic. Whether you realize it or not, normal weekend days aren't always that great. At least out here away from the city. I'm not sure how you urban warriors do it. Everyone likes to complain, and it's not like I never have to deal with motorists who think anything and everyone is just in their way, but if I dealt with as much road shoulder warfare as I read about in some of your blogs, I suspect I'd give up the sport. Or seriously adjust. I know for sure I'd skip a lot of rides. It takes tons of motivation to head out when you already know ahead of time that you're going to be polishing fenders and boiling your blood with anger. That's not my idea of a good time and it's not why I do this stuff.
One of my old neighbors was a pro bike racer and he used to say he hated training on Saturdays. Having the luxury of riding the suburbs in the daytime during the week had spoiled him. When I started racing I worked the 3-11 shift at the factory (a real factory, not the figure of speech kind some of you guys call "work") and so I was much the same. The matinee ride is so much nicer than riding in the early evening. Lucky for me, last week I got to finish up Thursday and Friday with daytime soirees both days. Thursday was a long one down to the EPRO area and back, over the deserted flatlands known as Rehoboth, which are lightly traveled to begin with. During nearly five hours in the heat, I must have seen some cars, but I don't remember any; no moto-memories usually means a good ride. Friday was shorter. Then came the weekend.
The holiday somehow manages to shut things down for people. Maybe the landfills are closed or something. Part of it is just summer. Suburban car traffic is noticeably lighter. Especially in the late afternoons. Now I know many of the 45+ set like/need to head out at the ass crack of dawn to complete their selfish training regime before their spouse/kids/whatever awakens, but I'm not one of them. Not that I've got a problem with riding early in the morning. It has it's place, and you do get the roads mostly to yourself. Anything beats 10am-1pm on Saturday. That's the typical group ride schedule, and the worst time to ride IMHO. By 3 in the afternoon everyone has gone someplace (where?) and much of the time I have roads nearly as quiet as they would be at 6 am. Except warmer. And I'm awake.
On Saturday though, I had an important social function to attend in the afternoon and evening, so I did in fact train in the morning. Of all places I had to choose from, I rode my friggin' commute route over to Blue Hills. I rode the Big Hill in 5:26, not bad but not great, then headed over Chickatawbut to do the uber-steep but shorter and lesser known access road (still posted no bikes, but the gate was open). After that I rode over to Quincy and back, then hit the big hill one more time. Approaching the entrance, a rider rolled out of the museum parking lot, filing in behind me. I did not recognize the kit, and he had facial hair, so I didn't take much notice, figuring he was just a gumby. A ranger was opening the gate to get her truck through and we squeaked by to gain a slight rolling start on the ascent. I hit my timer, stood up and went. I sensed the other guy followed but I wasn't sure and sure wasn't going to give some Fred the satisfaction of looking back and turning it into a race. Feeling strong, I stayed in a biggish gear and powered out of the saddle almost all the way to the flat spot. Then I hear "on your left" and the guy spins by, saying "dude, nice pace." WTF? He took a few bike lengths right away, and I just kept going as this was, truth be told, a CP5 test for me. The guy just rode away anyhow, even though I thought I was doing all right. He probably pulled 20-30 seconds out of me by the summit, which I reached in 5:15. At the bottom the guy was waiting to chat and wanted to know if I was heading back up. I said no, I had a wedding to attend in two hours, so I'd be scooting. We exchanged pleasantries and he told me he was a Cat 1 from Oregon who was originally from here and just visiting. That made me feel a bit better.
That story was a side trip. The meat of this piece was supposed to be about heading out for a nice ride to Tower Hill on Sunday, then a shorter and even nicer ride around Sharon and Walpole on Monday. Both were done in the afternoon, and both had practically zero moto-traffic to contend with. But... what is up with casual morons riding on the wrong side of the road? In a one mile stretch, I encountered FIVE!!! Only one of them had a helmet. Of course, you pass them so quickly there's not much time to even lecture them. Somehow this has to be fixed. Since no drivers ever look right before pulling out of a driveway or side street, maybe the problem will take care of itself; I don't know. It's not what I need when I'm TT'ing with my head down. At least the pocket-motobikes have not ended suburban civilization as I thought they might. I think the lifespan of one of those POS's is pretty short, saving us.
There, a senseless ramble. What did I leave out? Oh yeah, I got to watch a stage of the Giro. Takeaway - keep the cadence up on the climbs. What else? Ummm, I haven't give the MTB any TLC, but maybe soon. A 5 am urban ride around downtown on a Sunday moring sounds like fun. Haven't done one of those in a while. Anybody up for that? Thanks for reading.
Recap, and oh yeah, I almost forgot. So I rode for five days straight and had zero issues with motorized road users, not cutoffs, no brush backs, nothing. Just two-wheeled bozos on the wrong side of the road. But the suburbs aren't always safe for everyone. Check out this story about the infamous "Wolfie.". Holy crap. Let's hope he's doing OK and will be talking up a storm at a race venue parking lot near you real soon. In a scally cap. Thanks for reading, again.
One of my old neighbors was a pro bike racer and he used to say he hated training on Saturdays. Having the luxury of riding the suburbs in the daytime during the week had spoiled him. When I started racing I worked the 3-11 shift at the factory (a real factory, not the figure of speech kind some of you guys call "work") and so I was much the same. The matinee ride is so much nicer than riding in the early evening. Lucky for me, last week I got to finish up Thursday and Friday with daytime soirees both days. Thursday was a long one down to the EPRO area and back, over the deserted flatlands known as Rehoboth, which are lightly traveled to begin with. During nearly five hours in the heat, I must have seen some cars, but I don't remember any; no moto-memories usually means a good ride. Friday was shorter. Then came the weekend.
The holiday somehow manages to shut things down for people. Maybe the landfills are closed or something. Part of it is just summer. Suburban car traffic is noticeably lighter. Especially in the late afternoons. Now I know many of the 45+ set like/need to head out at the ass crack of dawn to complete their selfish training regime before their spouse/kids/whatever awakens, but I'm not one of them. Not that I've got a problem with riding early in the morning. It has it's place, and you do get the roads mostly to yourself. Anything beats 10am-1pm on Saturday. That's the typical group ride schedule, and the worst time to ride IMHO. By 3 in the afternoon everyone has gone someplace (where?) and much of the time I have roads nearly as quiet as they would be at 6 am. Except warmer. And I'm awake.
On Saturday though, I had an important social function to attend in the afternoon and evening, so I did in fact train in the morning. Of all places I had to choose from, I rode my friggin' commute route over to Blue Hills. I rode the Big Hill in 5:26, not bad but not great, then headed over Chickatawbut to do the uber-steep but shorter and lesser known access road (still posted no bikes, but the gate was open). After that I rode over to Quincy and back, then hit the big hill one more time. Approaching the entrance, a rider rolled out of the museum parking lot, filing in behind me. I did not recognize the kit, and he had facial hair, so I didn't take much notice, figuring he was just a gumby. A ranger was opening the gate to get her truck through and we squeaked by to gain a slight rolling start on the ascent. I hit my timer, stood up and went. I sensed the other guy followed but I wasn't sure and sure wasn't going to give some Fred the satisfaction of looking back and turning it into a race. Feeling strong, I stayed in a biggish gear and powered out of the saddle almost all the way to the flat spot. Then I hear "on your left" and the guy spins by, saying "dude, nice pace." WTF? He took a few bike lengths right away, and I just kept going as this was, truth be told, a CP5 test for me. The guy just rode away anyhow, even though I thought I was doing all right. He probably pulled 20-30 seconds out of me by the summit, which I reached in 5:15. At the bottom the guy was waiting to chat and wanted to know if I was heading back up. I said no, I had a wedding to attend in two hours, so I'd be scooting. We exchanged pleasantries and he told me he was a Cat 1 from Oregon who was originally from here and just visiting. That made me feel a bit better.
That story was a side trip. The meat of this piece was supposed to be about heading out for a nice ride to Tower Hill on Sunday, then a shorter and even nicer ride around Sharon and Walpole on Monday. Both were done in the afternoon, and both had practically zero moto-traffic to contend with. But... what is up with casual morons riding on the wrong side of the road? In a one mile stretch, I encountered FIVE!!! Only one of them had a helmet. Of course, you pass them so quickly there's not much time to even lecture them. Somehow this has to be fixed. Since no drivers ever look right before pulling out of a driveway or side street, maybe the problem will take care of itself; I don't know. It's not what I need when I'm TT'ing with my head down. At least the pocket-motobikes have not ended suburban civilization as I thought they might. I think the lifespan of one of those POS's is pretty short, saving us.
There, a senseless ramble. What did I leave out? Oh yeah, I got to watch a stage of the Giro. Takeaway - keep the cadence up on the climbs. What else? Ummm, I haven't give the MTB any TLC, but maybe soon. A 5 am urban ride around downtown on a Sunday moring sounds like fun. Haven't done one of those in a while. Anybody up for that? Thanks for reading.
Recap, and oh yeah, I almost forgot. So I rode for five days straight and had zero issues with motorized road users, not cutoffs, no brush backs, nothing. Just two-wheeled bozos on the wrong side of the road. But the suburbs aren't always safe for everyone. Check out this story about the infamous "Wolfie.". Holy crap. Let's hope he's doing OK and will be talking up a storm at a race venue parking lot near you real soon. In a scally cap. Thanks for reading, again.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Race of Truth
Denis Menchov has to be feeling pretty good today. Stage 12 at the Giro featured the most demanding TT parcours of our time, with 60k of small Italian mountain roads. Beyond that though, GC was still wide open, meaning this TT would be contested by over a few dozen highly motivated riders. Even the domestiques had to ride nearly all out to avoid being eliminated from the race by the dreaded hors delay. The winner rode this pretty ordinary looking bike (well, for these days anyway), complete with low-dish climbing wheels. Most of the guys didn't wear aero helmets or even keep their skinsuits zipped up. This wasn't a typical contest to see who spent the most time in the wind tunnel or trained with specific focus; this race was about seeing who the best bike rider was today. Very cool.
In local competitions, time trials have seen a bit of a resurgence, but they're still shunned by many. They lost their luster when aero bikes came on the scene. The district TT used to get over 300 entries. Now this year we don't even have one. Many of the best riders stopped coming once you needed a TT bike. These guys were sponsored "pros" living hand to mouth and racing criteriums for money. Of course we still have TT stages in the big races, and the weeknight scene is thriving if the CBTT is any indication. Over 40 riders toed the line this week. I got to see Obie119 at the start, and to finally meet jtheskier too. The race attracts a mix of hardcore bike racers both decked out for TT practice or just getting a workout, triathletes, and more casual bike enthusiasts competing for fun.
Lots of riders ride CBTT cannibal, which is great to see. Of course I did too, going a few seconds better than two weeks ago. I think last week's pitiful time was somewhat of a fluke with my long sleeve jersey and leg warmers dragging me down in the cool headwind on Monument Road. Next time I go back I'll probably try the TT bike. This course certainly does not demand cannibal like Stage 12 at the Giro. Like most domestic time trials, Concord is wide open. The past few rides I've caught riders on aero bikes right around Carlisle center. Then on the downhill of Route 225 they open it up again. This week I just sat back because I knew trying to cleanly pass an aero rider at 54 kph was not a wise use of energy. Better to wait for the next roller.
That underscores the difference between a race like Stage 12 at the Giro and a typical flat TT. Most stage race promoters here in the US favor a non-technical contest. So do the riders it seems. At least the ones who like TTs anyway. Hell, there was even complaining at the Giro, from the ones you would expect to complain. The guys who've spent their careers riding behind a formation of teammates and outspending the competition on tunnel time and technology wanted no part of a course where you had to climb, power the flats, and descend better than everyone else. You know Menchov was loving it. Riding stage races for Rabobank, he's probably been isolated in 90% of the tough mountain stages. He knows how to ride a bike for himself.
At the Workingman's Stage Race, we have one of the more technical TTs around these days, but it's still an aero bike course for sure. Fitchburg has a new flatter TT course this year, which looks scenic, even including a causeway section, but decidedly non-technical. Killington of course used to have the hillclimb, but even that had a 55 kph downhill for the start. Way back I think Aaron Bagshaw promoted a stage race for juniors featuring a 50k test similar to what they had at the Giro, but of course I did not get to ride it. I think Altoona used to have a super short uphill prologue with some tight turns. Our districts course were all pretty much the straightest, flattest roads the promoters could find. The 1991 course in Westport Ma was the exception, it was flat, but at least it had some cool turns. We only had that one year though. I honestly can't think of too many other technical TTs. Except of course Mt A, which goes so far as to not allow aerobars at all. That and the dirt road sections scares off some would be hopefuls. That's too bad. The race deserves a higher level of competition. I would love to see something like that included in a stage race. Hmmmm.
jtheskier wanted a TT race report from Wednesday. I already hit the highlights. I rode cannibal, but it was warm so just a jersey and shorts, and I had the taped up helmet because that was the one in the bag. Maybe it's even worth a few seconds. I tried to pace myself, but again this week I forgot to swap cassettes so I had an 11-25 to go with my 34/50 crankset. This cluster has no 16 cog, meaning I either had to push the 15 or make a two cog jump down. Which is not a bad thing on some of the rollers at the end, but on the opening stretch it's a disadvantage. I opted for sticking in the 15. I caught the next rider after Carlisle but she opened it up big time on 225 and as noted, I hung back. Maybe not as far back as I'm supposed to, but at least a few bike lengths. Then I passed turning on to River Road. On this tough section I felt like I was doing much better than the last two times, but in fact I still slowed down. Last week I was worried about a painful death on the last big roller and held back, but this week I raced without fear. I still slowed down though, averaging 39 kph for the second half of the ride compared with 42 kph for the first section. My HR was pegged from 161-170 the entire way, much higher than last week. Taking six seconds off my prior best, my average speed topped 40 kph, just barely. I'll take it. Yet Dougie will be gleeful to note that I still got girled, but by a very talented and classy rider who was full aero, I might add. And oh yeah Murat, I had a power meter on there. I can't say that I'm too impressed with the utility of this device as a pacing tool. Maybe it would be more useful in an artificial race like the indoor TTs they hold on trainers. On a rolling course like this, you just ride as fast as you can go. I didn't hear Menchov talking about his power numbers after his win... Thanks for reading.
In local competitions, time trials have seen a bit of a resurgence, but they're still shunned by many. They lost their luster when aero bikes came on the scene. The district TT used to get over 300 entries. Now this year we don't even have one. Many of the best riders stopped coming once you needed a TT bike. These guys were sponsored "pros" living hand to mouth and racing criteriums for money. Of course we still have TT stages in the big races, and the weeknight scene is thriving if the CBTT is any indication. Over 40 riders toed the line this week. I got to see Obie119 at the start, and to finally meet jtheskier too. The race attracts a mix of hardcore bike racers both decked out for TT practice or just getting a workout, triathletes, and more casual bike enthusiasts competing for fun.
Lots of riders ride CBTT cannibal, which is great to see. Of course I did too, going a few seconds better than two weeks ago. I think last week's pitiful time was somewhat of a fluke with my long sleeve jersey and leg warmers dragging me down in the cool headwind on Monument Road. Next time I go back I'll probably try the TT bike. This course certainly does not demand cannibal like Stage 12 at the Giro. Like most domestic time trials, Concord is wide open. The past few rides I've caught riders on aero bikes right around Carlisle center. Then on the downhill of Route 225 they open it up again. This week I just sat back because I knew trying to cleanly pass an aero rider at 54 kph was not a wise use of energy. Better to wait for the next roller.
That underscores the difference between a race like Stage 12 at the Giro and a typical flat TT. Most stage race promoters here in the US favor a non-technical contest. So do the riders it seems. At least the ones who like TTs anyway. Hell, there was even complaining at the Giro, from the ones you would expect to complain. The guys who've spent their careers riding behind a formation of teammates and outspending the competition on tunnel time and technology wanted no part of a course where you had to climb, power the flats, and descend better than everyone else. You know Menchov was loving it. Riding stage races for Rabobank, he's probably been isolated in 90% of the tough mountain stages. He knows how to ride a bike for himself.
At the Workingman's Stage Race, we have one of the more technical TTs around these days, but it's still an aero bike course for sure. Fitchburg has a new flatter TT course this year, which looks scenic, even including a causeway section, but decidedly non-technical. Killington of course used to have the hillclimb, but even that had a 55 kph downhill for the start. Way back I think Aaron Bagshaw promoted a stage race for juniors featuring a 50k test similar to what they had at the Giro, but of course I did not get to ride it. I think Altoona used to have a super short uphill prologue with some tight turns. Our districts course were all pretty much the straightest, flattest roads the promoters could find. The 1991 course in Westport Ma was the exception, it was flat, but at least it had some cool turns. We only had that one year though. I honestly can't think of too many other technical TTs. Except of course Mt A, which goes so far as to not allow aerobars at all. That and the dirt road sections scares off some would be hopefuls. That's too bad. The race deserves a higher level of competition. I would love to see something like that included in a stage race. Hmmmm.
jtheskier wanted a TT race report from Wednesday. I already hit the highlights. I rode cannibal, but it was warm so just a jersey and shorts, and I had the taped up helmet because that was the one in the bag. Maybe it's even worth a few seconds. I tried to pace myself, but again this week I forgot to swap cassettes so I had an 11-25 to go with my 34/50 crankset. This cluster has no 16 cog, meaning I either had to push the 15 or make a two cog jump down. Which is not a bad thing on some of the rollers at the end, but on the opening stretch it's a disadvantage. I opted for sticking in the 15. I caught the next rider after Carlisle but she opened it up big time on 225 and as noted, I hung back. Maybe not as far back as I'm supposed to, but at least a few bike lengths. Then I passed turning on to River Road. On this tough section I felt like I was doing much better than the last two times, but in fact I still slowed down. Last week I was worried about a painful death on the last big roller and held back, but this week I raced without fear. I still slowed down though, averaging 39 kph for the second half of the ride compared with 42 kph for the first section. My HR was pegged from 161-170 the entire way, much higher than last week. Taking six seconds off my prior best, my average speed topped 40 kph, just barely. I'll take it. Yet Dougie will be gleeful to note that I still got girled, but by a very talented and classy rider who was full aero, I might add. And oh yeah Murat, I had a power meter on there. I can't say that I'm too impressed with the utility of this device as a pacing tool. Maybe it would be more useful in an artificial race like the indoor TTs they hold on trainers. On a rolling course like this, you just ride as fast as you can go. I didn't hear Menchov talking about his power numbers after his win... Thanks for reading.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Salvage Operation
Spring classics season closed out yesterday, with Sunapee 2009 going into the books as another Hilljunkie win in Master 45+. Pretty impressive. As usual, the race hosted by the Sunapee S&W Sports/Continental Paving club was run with professionalism. These guys deserve a lot of credit for pulling off one of the best events in New England year after year. The podium finishers got engraved pint glasses this edition, as seen on Dougie's blog. A keepsake like that is much nicer than the typical medal and was a very classy touch. Congratulations to race director Chris Naimee and the entire Sunapee crew for promoting another great event. The true measure of a cycling club is the quality of the events they promote for the benefit of the racing community as a whole, and Sunapee once again proved they are first category.
The way my season has been going, I did not know what to expect at this race. Back in March, with a nice winter base focused entirely on bike racing already behind me, I was guardedly optimistic about the big road races. Early review of the calendar had me focusing on Monson and Jiminy Peak in April, and then trying to hold form for a few weeks until Sunapee, where I have perhaps my longest history of respectable finishes. Going to the training race at Coxsackie revealed that I shouldn't have forsaken high intensity so much in the early weeks. That was a wake up call. Battenkill was never a focus, but I'd hoped to do better than I ultimately did, nonetheless my failure there did not come as a surprise after the prior week's warning shot. Note to self for next year: a large percentage of the 40+ riders who top 20'd Battenkill had raced all three weeks at Coxsackie. There's no better way to prepare for a hard 100k race than by doing hard 100k training races.
Then Monson was canceled, so I raced Turtle Pond instead, but in the tough 35+ field on what turned out to be a damn hot day. TP is another event that has historically been OK for me, but this year I was a dud by the end. On to Jiminy, where my form was at its peak as planned, but where I misread the race and blew a chance for a good finish. The next day at Blue Hills my form was confirmed, but also wasted, in a 50k solo break that led nowhere except a crampy mid-pack sprint for 30th. Next up Sterling; we know how that ended, on my butt with a fistful of ibuprophen. All my base training and focus had not yielded anything in the way of results.
Sunapee did not draw quite the field that Jiminy Peak did. Geographically Sunapee does not work for a lot of teams, so in the 45+ we were missing Arc-en-Ciel, Keltic, and of course the host team, who forego their own event to work it and ensure its quality. Corner Cycle's riders all did the 35+ so that they could stay together, which meant another powerful squad was absent. Still though, Dougie was there with his IBC team, along with CCB tough guys and full squads for OA/Cyclemania and Gearworks. For BOB we had five of us, with the Cronoman, Timmy, Big John, and Jeff F in addition to myself. The fields were limited to 75 this year, I guess due to some construction-related narrow course concerns. It was nice of them to think of our safety over income.
As has been the case for the past few years, the 45+ only does two laps of the 23 mile parcours. Back in the day all categories did three laps here, and that made for quite a different race. Now with the short format, things get aggressive early. Our field started briskly but stayed together. I was unsure of myself but did OK on the initial climbs out on route 11. It's amazing how much fitness can alter your perception of a course. When I returned here back in 2004 or 2005 after a long layoff, I'd remembered this course as fairly easy, with a few rollers. Being overweight and not in top form, the rollers felt like mountains! I DNF'd my first time back. The past few years were not so bad, but still I was remembering "hills" that hadn't made much impression on me back in the 80s and 90s. Well, I must have good form, because this year the course did not seem so alpine. Unfortunately, I did not have great position when we hit the town line hill on 103A. That one is pretty real, and Dougie, Tyler Munroe (CCB), Rick Sorensen (Battenkill-United), Stuart Abramson (OA-Cyclemania) and Keith Button (Noreast-INTERNET!) separated themselves from the bunch. At the crest, I immediately started pulling into the downhill. My agenda was two-pronged: 1) try to keep them close so the field stayed interested, and 2) see who blocked in order to figure out who was up there. Jim Nash (CCB) immediately covered my wheel, so I knew Tyler was in the move. Other than that I was not sure, but the word soon got out that one was Ambramson. We actually thought there were more than five, as at this point there were already stragglers from earlier fields littering the road and confusing the situation.
After the downhill is where I had my "they took the hill out" moment. Before I knew it I'd pulled to the right hand bend which marks the approach to the final crest on 103A. Our field was stretched out and fragmented a bit, but I was OK, and sure enough there were others interested in chasing. Out on 103 I guess Keith came back to us. With long sightlines on the straight road, I looked ahead on the big rollers before the rotary and timed the break at only 22 seconds up. They may have pulled out some more time, but then we started flying down the second half of 103. I'm not positive who was driving it, but I know Adam Sternfeld (MillworkOne) was one of them. Things were not looking good for the break at that point. We had an official drive up alongside screaming at us about yellow line violations, very emotional and unprofessional. Why can't they just take the numbers and relegate the offenders? Anyhow, we then turned back into the wind on 111 and the field just deflated. I thought about moving up and driving the pace, but with the big rollers leading out of town looming, I opted to conserve energy, and I think many others had the same ideas. On the hill I felt I was in better shape than my team mates, so I wanted to stay ready for the finish.
Then we started catching the Cat 4 pack. The big rollers were super easy for me this time, but I took a wait and see attitude for how the group grope passing situation was going to play out. The break got through pretty easily. Our pack, still 50 riders large, not so. We ended up cruising behind the traffic for a mile or two. The officials for the 4s should have neutralized them as soon as the break went by, but they did not. Eventually the traffic was stopped by a detail cop and we raced by up the shoulder, regrouping on the last route 11 wall and pouncing up to the Cat 4 pack on the narrow 103A. At this point their lead car finally parked them and we had a vehicle guard the oncoming lane and we all raced by without an issue. The break was out of sight though, or at least we could not see the lead car. On the town line climb I moved up to the front. I guess Big John headed up and told the Cronoman I was going to attack on the next rise. Funny thing is, I never said a word to John. He and I have been racing both against each other (when we were on different teams) and together on BOB for so long that he knows me like a book. And he's a tailgunner who knows how to read a race. Well of course he was right, and when we got to the right hand bend I went, in the saddle, hoping that with some teams already blocking the field would just let me escape. I got a good gap, but did not bury myself.
Up ahead there was a small group, but if they had a pace car I did not see it. From reading Dougie's blog, I now know this was our break, but with a bunch of 35+ stragglers tacked on to them. Well, maybe the pace car was visible, because Gearworks lit up the chase over the crest, reeling me back in with Jennings on the point. As soon as they got close enough to see it just a bunch of 35's, Frank sat up and the Cronoman countered. I guess what had happened (again from Doug's account) was that the officials had ordered the 35's separate themselves, and the break was not far ahead. The Cronoman was absorbed by the field as we scooted around the 35s in the construction zone. As soon as we started the first roller on 103, Mark Suprenant (Team Type 1) attacked, and Timmy covered. They moved away smartly and it looked pretty good, so I went straight to the front to patrol for chasers. I'd already recovered from my attack, surprising myself. Karl Hambrecht (CCB) led the chase with me covering his wheel, so I guess he did not see the break ahead either, as his team mate Tyler was in there. Timmy got ridden off by Mark, and we got swarmed going into the rotary. I was about twenty back now. Mark got caught on the little wall at the base of the access road, which is less than 1k to go. Moving up on the left, I had plenty of clear road and I just launched. This is one finish I know well, and once again nobody came with me. I was clear and got back across the road for the final right hand bend and bump to the line. Checking the rear view, it was going to be close, and as I clicked up a gear and stood for the final dance to the banner, I heard someone yell "Go Tyler!" As it turned out, I was on the heels of the break, but too little too late. I stayed clear of the field though, and in fact the break numbered only four, so I got 5th. I must say I haven't been so happy with a mediocre result in a long time. It was a paying spot, but more importantly a top five salvaged my spring season. I knew I had good form and preparation and coming up empty week after week had been pretty discouraging. Again thanks to my team for their help and to the Sunapee club for putting on the event, and thanks for reading.
The way my season has been going, I did not know what to expect at this race. Back in March, with a nice winter base focused entirely on bike racing already behind me, I was guardedly optimistic about the big road races. Early review of the calendar had me focusing on Monson and Jiminy Peak in April, and then trying to hold form for a few weeks until Sunapee, where I have perhaps my longest history of respectable finishes. Going to the training race at Coxsackie revealed that I shouldn't have forsaken high intensity so much in the early weeks. That was a wake up call. Battenkill was never a focus, but I'd hoped to do better than I ultimately did, nonetheless my failure there did not come as a surprise after the prior week's warning shot. Note to self for next year: a large percentage of the 40+ riders who top 20'd Battenkill had raced all three weeks at Coxsackie. There's no better way to prepare for a hard 100k race than by doing hard 100k training races.
Then Monson was canceled, so I raced Turtle Pond instead, but in the tough 35+ field on what turned out to be a damn hot day. TP is another event that has historically been OK for me, but this year I was a dud by the end. On to Jiminy, where my form was at its peak as planned, but where I misread the race and blew a chance for a good finish. The next day at Blue Hills my form was confirmed, but also wasted, in a 50k solo break that led nowhere except a crampy mid-pack sprint for 30th. Next up Sterling; we know how that ended, on my butt with a fistful of ibuprophen. All my base training and focus had not yielded anything in the way of results.
Sunapee did not draw quite the field that Jiminy Peak did. Geographically Sunapee does not work for a lot of teams, so in the 45+ we were missing Arc-en-Ciel, Keltic, and of course the host team, who forego their own event to work it and ensure its quality. Corner Cycle's riders all did the 35+ so that they could stay together, which meant another powerful squad was absent. Still though, Dougie was there with his IBC team, along with CCB tough guys and full squads for OA/Cyclemania and Gearworks. For BOB we had five of us, with the Cronoman, Timmy, Big John, and Jeff F in addition to myself. The fields were limited to 75 this year, I guess due to some construction-related narrow course concerns. It was nice of them to think of our safety over income.
As has been the case for the past few years, the 45+ only does two laps of the 23 mile parcours. Back in the day all categories did three laps here, and that made for quite a different race. Now with the short format, things get aggressive early. Our field started briskly but stayed together. I was unsure of myself but did OK on the initial climbs out on route 11. It's amazing how much fitness can alter your perception of a course. When I returned here back in 2004 or 2005 after a long layoff, I'd remembered this course as fairly easy, with a few rollers. Being overweight and not in top form, the rollers felt like mountains! I DNF'd my first time back. The past few years were not so bad, but still I was remembering "hills" that hadn't made much impression on me back in the 80s and 90s. Well, I must have good form, because this year the course did not seem so alpine. Unfortunately, I did not have great position when we hit the town line hill on 103A. That one is pretty real, and Dougie, Tyler Munroe (CCB), Rick Sorensen (Battenkill-United), Stuart Abramson (OA-Cyclemania) and Keith Button (Noreast-INTERNET!) separated themselves from the bunch. At the crest, I immediately started pulling into the downhill. My agenda was two-pronged: 1) try to keep them close so the field stayed interested, and 2) see who blocked in order to figure out who was up there. Jim Nash (CCB) immediately covered my wheel, so I knew Tyler was in the move. Other than that I was not sure, but the word soon got out that one was Ambramson. We actually thought there were more than five, as at this point there were already stragglers from earlier fields littering the road and confusing the situation.
After the downhill is where I had my "they took the hill out" moment. Before I knew it I'd pulled to the right hand bend which marks the approach to the final crest on 103A. Our field was stretched out and fragmented a bit, but I was OK, and sure enough there were others interested in chasing. Out on 103 I guess Keith came back to us. With long sightlines on the straight road, I looked ahead on the big rollers before the rotary and timed the break at only 22 seconds up. They may have pulled out some more time, but then we started flying down the second half of 103. I'm not positive who was driving it, but I know Adam Sternfeld (MillworkOne) was one of them. Things were not looking good for the break at that point. We had an official drive up alongside screaming at us about yellow line violations, very emotional and unprofessional. Why can't they just take the numbers and relegate the offenders? Anyhow, we then turned back into the wind on 111 and the field just deflated. I thought about moving up and driving the pace, but with the big rollers leading out of town looming, I opted to conserve energy, and I think many others had the same ideas. On the hill I felt I was in better shape than my team mates, so I wanted to stay ready for the finish.
Then we started catching the Cat 4 pack. The big rollers were super easy for me this time, but I took a wait and see attitude for how the group grope passing situation was going to play out. The break got through pretty easily. Our pack, still 50 riders large, not so. We ended up cruising behind the traffic for a mile or two. The officials for the 4s should have neutralized them as soon as the break went by, but they did not. Eventually the traffic was stopped by a detail cop and we raced by up the shoulder, regrouping on the last route 11 wall and pouncing up to the Cat 4 pack on the narrow 103A. At this point their lead car finally parked them and we had a vehicle guard the oncoming lane and we all raced by without an issue. The break was out of sight though, or at least we could not see the lead car. On the town line climb I moved up to the front. I guess Big John headed up and told the Cronoman I was going to attack on the next rise. Funny thing is, I never said a word to John. He and I have been racing both against each other (when we were on different teams) and together on BOB for so long that he knows me like a book. And he's a tailgunner who knows how to read a race. Well of course he was right, and when we got to the right hand bend I went, in the saddle, hoping that with some teams already blocking the field would just let me escape. I got a good gap, but did not bury myself.
Up ahead there was a small group, but if they had a pace car I did not see it. From reading Dougie's blog, I now know this was our break, but with a bunch of 35+ stragglers tacked on to them. Well, maybe the pace car was visible, because Gearworks lit up the chase over the crest, reeling me back in with Jennings on the point. As soon as they got close enough to see it just a bunch of 35's, Frank sat up and the Cronoman countered. I guess what had happened (again from Doug's account) was that the officials had ordered the 35's separate themselves, and the break was not far ahead. The Cronoman was absorbed by the field as we scooted around the 35s in the construction zone. As soon as we started the first roller on 103, Mark Suprenant (Team Type 1) attacked, and Timmy covered. They moved away smartly and it looked pretty good, so I went straight to the front to patrol for chasers. I'd already recovered from my attack, surprising myself. Karl Hambrecht (CCB) led the chase with me covering his wheel, so I guess he did not see the break ahead either, as his team mate Tyler was in there. Timmy got ridden off by Mark, and we got swarmed going into the rotary. I was about twenty back now. Mark got caught on the little wall at the base of the access road, which is less than 1k to go. Moving up on the left, I had plenty of clear road and I just launched. This is one finish I know well, and once again nobody came with me. I was clear and got back across the road for the final right hand bend and bump to the line. Checking the rear view, it was going to be close, and as I clicked up a gear and stood for the final dance to the banner, I heard someone yell "Go Tyler!" As it turned out, I was on the heels of the break, but too little too late. I stayed clear of the field though, and in fact the break numbered only four, so I got 5th. I must say I haven't been so happy with a mediocre result in a long time. It was a paying spot, but more importantly a top five salvaged my spring season. I knew I had good form and preparation and coming up empty week after week had been pretty discouraging. Again thanks to my team for their help and to the Sunapee club for putting on the event, and thanks for reading.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Friday Bike Fit
A few days ago cyclingnews ran a feature about the bike Lance Armstrong's is riding in the Giro. Most of you know that I'm not a raging Lance fan, but I do think it's cool that he raced at Biddeford and of course Fitchburg (where he cut me in line at the post race buffet!) back before he was famous outside of bike racing circles. Since I have a new Madone, I was checking over the feature to see how his cables were routed and things like that. This article lists very detailed measurements, similar to the fit stuff I've been doing to duplicate the position from my old bike to this one.
Here are my specs:
Frame: Trek Madone OCLV Black Series, 58cm
Critical measurements
Rider's height: 177 cm (5' 10") ; Weight: 77kg (169lb)
Saddle setback: 73mm
Saddle height, from BB (c-t): 753mm
Tip of saddle nose to C of bars (next to stem): 575mm
Handlebar drop: 85mm
Here are Armstrong's:
Frame: Trek Madone OCLV Red Series, 58cm
Critical measurements
Rider's height: 177 cm (5' 10") ; Weight: 73kg (161lb)
Saddle setback: 75mm
Saddle height, from BB (c-t): 753mm
Tip of saddle nose to C of bars (next to stem): 580mm
Handlebar drop: 80mm
So he's got 10 less years and 8 less pounds on him (I seem to recall that back when he was winning the Tour his claimed weight was closer to 150). I could pretty much ride his bike without adjustment. Other than his 12cm stem and spacer to my 11cm no-rise, the setups are within a couple of millimeters. Now it would be nice if they'd run a similar feature on his wind-tunnel tested TT bike position. I could use some help there. Thanks for reading.
Update:
Well, looks like they might read my blog.
Here are my specs:
Frame: Trek Madone OCLV Black Series, 58cm
Critical measurements
Rider's height: 177 cm (5' 10") ; Weight: 77kg (169lb)
Saddle setback: 73mm
Saddle height, from BB (c-t): 753mm
Tip of saddle nose to C of bars (next to stem): 575mm
Handlebar drop: 85mm
Here are Armstrong's:
Frame: Trek Madone OCLV Red Series, 58cm
Critical measurements
Rider's height: 177 cm (5' 10") ; Weight: 73kg (161lb)
Saddle setback: 75mm
Saddle height, from BB (c-t): 753mm
Tip of saddle nose to C of bars (next to stem): 580mm
Handlebar drop: 80mm
So he's got 10 less years and 8 less pounds on him (I seem to recall that back when he was winning the Tour his claimed weight was closer to 150). I could pretty much ride his bike without adjustment. Other than his 12cm stem and spacer to my 11cm no-rise, the setups are within a couple of millimeters. Now it would be nice if they'd run a similar feature on his wind-tunnel tested TT bike position. I could use some help there. Thanks for reading.
Update:
Well, looks like they might read my blog.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Random Mid-week post
Not a lot of deep thoughts today. Met another reader last night at the CBTT. I think he said his name was Neil. Always scary to get the "are you solobreak?" query at the races. I was ass-slow too. Maybe because of my bruised ass. I took the afternoon off work to try riding and see how it felt. Monday and Tuesday I could not push a gear in the saddle without pain. A decision on entering Sunapee had to be made because the field limits are just 75 riders and the 45+ field was filling up. Oddly enough, I felt fine riding, not so much pain when applying pressure to the pedals. I parked at the registration lot and went exploring up into Chelmsford and Westford before heading back past Nashoba Valley and across Acton and Carlisle back to Concord. I had 65k in at 5pm, with an hour and a half until race time. Riding with just plain water was not such a good idea, and my fuel reserves were on empty. Not wanting to attempt a TT with solid food in my stomach, I settled for a bag of Skittles (230 cal), half a Snickers energy bar, and a few bottles of Gatorade that I mixed up.
After setting up my bike on the trainer and registering, I lay down on a blanket to stretch. My tailbone friggin' killed! This is strange. It seemed much more tender to touch, yet I can pedal now. I'm hoping that this is not a case of the bruised muscles healing, but some cracked bone still being there. I honestly don't know. Another odd thing was Wednesday morning I had a private yoga lesson, and there was no pain. That's right, solobreak got his first formal yoga experience. It was awesome. This came in a package deal with the LT test, the functional movement screening, a massage, and an hour of pilates instruction. Turned out to be a good deal, but the yoga was the best part of all. I would probably go back for a few more sessions, but the instructor said she is leaving there soon. Bummer. Speaking of massage, doing the foam roller is not much fun when you have road rash. With only a few small scrapes, I managed, but it would be pretty impossible if things were much worse.
Back to the TT. I'm not sure why I was doing this again, but at least it was a good chance to do a long effort. I went cannibal, even wearing long sleeves, long gloves, and leg warmers. I tried to work on my pacing again but I faded anyway -- even though I wasn't going fast to begin with. Barely maintaining a 37 kph average, my time was a whopping 1:49 slower than last week. There was more wind, and I had more clothes, but meh. I entered Sunapee anyway. It was only $25 with the bikereg fee included, and they are the coolest club in New England except for BOB, so what the hell. Thanks for reading.
After setting up my bike on the trainer and registering, I lay down on a blanket to stretch. My tailbone friggin' killed! This is strange. It seemed much more tender to touch, yet I can pedal now. I'm hoping that this is not a case of the bruised muscles healing, but some cracked bone still being there. I honestly don't know. Another odd thing was Wednesday morning I had a private yoga lesson, and there was no pain. That's right, solobreak got his first formal yoga experience. It was awesome. This came in a package deal with the LT test, the functional movement screening, a massage, and an hour of pilates instruction. Turned out to be a good deal, but the yoga was the best part of all. I would probably go back for a few more sessions, but the instructor said she is leaving there soon. Bummer. Speaking of massage, doing the foam roller is not much fun when you have road rash. With only a few small scrapes, I managed, but it would be pretty impossible if things were much worse.
Back to the TT. I'm not sure why I was doing this again, but at least it was a good chance to do a long effort. I went cannibal, even wearing long sleeves, long gloves, and leg warmers. I tried to work on my pacing again but I faded anyway -- even though I wasn't going fast to begin with. Barely maintaining a 37 kph average, my time was a whopping 1:49 slower than last week. There was more wind, and I had more clothes, but meh. I entered Sunapee anyway. It was only $25 with the bikereg fee included, and they are the coolest club in New England except for BOB, so what the hell. Thanks for reading.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Solo gets a tramp stamp!
I'd post the pictures, but this is a fuckin' family blog. But yeah, my competitive day at Sterling ended with my ass on the pavement, and now I've got a nice tri-color tattoo all over the coccyx area. It only hurts when I try to pedal... Things were sort of going OK up until that point. After a not exactly ideal week of training and preparation, the first two laps were mildly uncomfortable. On lap three the pace heated up, but I felt good. On route 12 I moved up to chat with my mates. In a moment of inattention, with one hand off the bars adjusting my junk (go Guido, go Guido, GO!), a pileup started a few bikes ahead. I never had time to hit the brakes. To avoid riding into the pile I arm-tackled my teammate Billy, who weighs all of 128 pounds or something. It did manage to stop me, but then we just tumbled to the ground. I guess he cracked one of his ribs breaking my fall. That's a teammate for you!
The story I got later was this "racer" clad in knee-high compression socks, riding a Softride beam bike just got tapped by somebody and went straight down. Everyone saw this clown at the start and did double takes. I mean, as XYZ says, we shouldn't judge by appearances, but this guy was clearly an Admiral in the Dork Navy. He got dropped every lap on the climb, and I'd breath a sigh of relief, as he was sketchy as hell, but each time he was somehow getting back to the group on the flats. He had just rejoined when the pileup happened. I swear, the 45+ group sucks. I think the 35-44 cat 4's race in the 4s, but the really old guys think its ok to come and swerve their way through the 45+ pack. The riding I've seen this year is simply horrible. I really wish they'd go to 1/2/3 for masters races. It's even worse whenever we're within an hour of Boston, as then all these guys you've never heard of who do one race a year come out of the woodwork. Do I sound bitter? Well I am. I hate fucking crashing, which is why I do it so rarely. With a brand new bike it makes me three times as pissed.
We got up and finished. If I'd been less lethargic, I may have regained the field. Billy thought his wheel was toast so I left alone. I caught the cars stuck behind the field and started to recover, but then a cop stopped them all to let people out of Dunkin Donuts. So not only did I lose my draft, but I had to brake and slide past everyone on the right and get across without getting hit by a turning vehicle. It was hopeless. Billy and another guy who got up off the deck caught me on the climb and we limped in the last two laps off the back. I guess it was just as well as the field had a close encounter with a clueless truck driver right as the sprint opened up. I heard Johnny Mosher (Corner Cycle) got run right over, but he was OK. Such a nice, relaxing fucking sport...
After rolling back to the school, I left my bike out in the rack while I went inside to get washed up and see if I could score some free bandages for my scraped arm. Again luckless, I went back out and somebody had plugged my handlebar with a bottle cap and electrical tape (the tape and plug had been destroyed in the crash). Well meaning or not, don't ever fuck with a man's bicycle! Motherfuckers. Plans for a nice long post-race ride were dashed as I wanted to get home and properly scrub my wounds. Sterling was an early start and I'd only slept about five hours Friday night, so I made up for it by napping all afternoon. I finally woke up around 7 pm, and headed out for a short ride to see how stiff I was (huh-huh). Felt better than I expected too, but if I try to push a gear in the saddle, the tailbone area is rather pained. Tried it again today and it was even worse; that's when I looked in the mirror. Pretty colorful. Not sure if it was from the ground or maybe falling on top of my own saddle. This might hold back my training for a few days. Kinda sucks, as last week went poorly and with Sunapee just six days away I needed a good week to try to come around. At least the frame and fork are in one piece and nothing on the bike got scratched up except the tape. Onward through the fog. Thanks for reading.
The story I got later was this "racer" clad in knee-high compression socks, riding a Softride beam bike just got tapped by somebody and went straight down. Everyone saw this clown at the start and did double takes. I mean, as XYZ says, we shouldn't judge by appearances, but this guy was clearly an Admiral in the Dork Navy. He got dropped every lap on the climb, and I'd breath a sigh of relief, as he was sketchy as hell, but each time he was somehow getting back to the group on the flats. He had just rejoined when the pileup happened. I swear, the 45+ group sucks. I think the 35-44 cat 4's race in the 4s, but the really old guys think its ok to come and swerve their way through the 45+ pack. The riding I've seen this year is simply horrible. I really wish they'd go to 1/2/3 for masters races. It's even worse whenever we're within an hour of Boston, as then all these guys you've never heard of who do one race a year come out of the woodwork. Do I sound bitter? Well I am. I hate fucking crashing, which is why I do it so rarely. With a brand new bike it makes me three times as pissed.
We got up and finished. If I'd been less lethargic, I may have regained the field. Billy thought his wheel was toast so I left alone. I caught the cars stuck behind the field and started to recover, but then a cop stopped them all to let people out of Dunkin Donuts. So not only did I lose my draft, but I had to brake and slide past everyone on the right and get across without getting hit by a turning vehicle. It was hopeless. Billy and another guy who got up off the deck caught me on the climb and we limped in the last two laps off the back. I guess it was just as well as the field had a close encounter with a clueless truck driver right as the sprint opened up. I heard Johnny Mosher (Corner Cycle) got run right over, but he was OK. Such a nice, relaxing fucking sport...
After rolling back to the school, I left my bike out in the rack while I went inside to get washed up and see if I could score some free bandages for my scraped arm. Again luckless, I went back out and somebody had plugged my handlebar with a bottle cap and electrical tape (the tape and plug had been destroyed in the crash). Well meaning or not, don't ever fuck with a man's bicycle! Motherfuckers. Plans for a nice long post-race ride were dashed as I wanted to get home and properly scrub my wounds. Sterling was an early start and I'd only slept about five hours Friday night, so I made up for it by napping all afternoon. I finally woke up around 7 pm, and headed out for a short ride to see how stiff I was (huh-huh). Felt better than I expected too, but if I try to push a gear in the saddle, the tailbone area is rather pained. Tried it again today and it was even worse; that's when I looked in the mirror. Pretty colorful. Not sure if it was from the ground or maybe falling on top of my own saddle. This might hold back my training for a few days. Kinda sucks, as last week went poorly and with Sunapee just six days away I needed a good week to try to come around. At least the frame and fork are in one piece and nothing on the bike got scratched up except the tape. Onward through the fog. Thanks for reading.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Question Mark
As if I needed any more confirmation that the racing season starts earlier and earlier, last night I did the Charlie Baker Time Trial, put on by the Northeast Bike Club in Concord, MA, since like, forever. But it's only May 6; weeknight TTs are supposed to be the stuff midsummer night's dreams are made of. Whatever, at least it was a warmish spring evening. I was working in Framingham during the day, so the drive over was relatively painless. With a little more daylight, I think I could easily ride there from work and still make it back to the 'ham afterward, so maybe I'll try that later this summer.
NEBC is highly organized. The TT website includes all kinds of details about where to park, where to pee, how to sign in, etc. They even have pictures for those of marginal literacy. Of course, I'd been to this event before a decade or two ago, so I ignored all this, parked in the wrong lot (who knew the Old North Bridge had two parking lots?). Did a warmup lap of the course with this kid Jerome from IF, who also parked in the wrong lot. Jerome just sits totally PRO on his bike. I'm used to riding with fat, high-barred masters who don't look so poised in the saddle... We finished our familiarization lap and then wondered why there was nobody else in the lot and no registration table visible, but eventually we figured out that everything was on the other side of the river, about a mile from the course. This was due to the New North Bridge being closed for rebuilding and thus about to become the even Newer North Bridge. We got there in time though, and they even had a riders meeting.
I can't really say I warmed up properly, just the pre-lap and a few jumps, but no real efforts. They seemed to be running late too, because when I rolled to staging I should have had very short wait but there were over twenty riders queued up to go off at 30 second intervals. The race org is very uptight about riders warming up in the road near staging because it's a high traffic area and the townies are already pissy about continuing to permit this event, so I was a good doobee and just stood there like everybody else, getting cold and de-prepped for ten minutes before toeing the line. With all the waiting, I uncharacteristically forgot to start my timer, which I normally do when my minute person rolls off. I remembered about a kilometer into it, oh well.
The course is fast. The first four miles are almost totally flat. The road is not that wide and traffic is moderate, so you get a little draft. Now to the question mark. As you can see on the results, I have a question mark in the "aero/non-aero" column. I can only presume that the start line dude with the clipboard gives you the once over and makes a decision whether you are "aero" or "non-aero." I was riding my new Madone exactly as it came out of the box, no clipons. Now, I don't think you could ever call yourself "cannibal" unless you're riding a steel frame and box-section tubular wheels, so my carbon monocoque and bladed spoke, 30mm alloy rim wheels (hard for me to believe my new "heavy" clinchers have only 16 spokes) clearly does not qualify. But I was rockin' the vintage Ekimov Panasonic-Sportlife jersey, no skinsuit. I can only guess that my slightly aero wheels and taped up helmet (which is a triple duty modification for warmth, bug protection, and aerodynamics) left my aero/non-aero status in question.
So anyway, wanting to work on my pacing, I did not go out too hard. I'm not used to running an 11/23 cassette, so when I got to four cogs over I was thinking I was in the 50x15 but it's really the 14. On my TT bike all aero I usually try to turn a 54x15 or 14 on the flats. I like to TT at 95-100 rpm. There are a few little rollers down at the end of the first stretch, so I did shift up and down a few times, but did not stand up at all. I was wearing my HRM on my wrist, so I could not read it while riding in the drops, and did not have any speed sensors. At the four mile mark the course goes through the Carlisle rotary before heading downhill a bit. Then there was some wind on the flatter stretch of Route 225. I was hurting here and maybe I backed off too much. Jerome had started two riders behind me, thus one minute back, and between us at 30 seconds was another kid riding cannibal. It's great to see good riders hitting the TT's on road bikes. The way life should be...
So the other kid, who I think is EVC, passes me on 225, so he's taking 4 seconds/kilometer out of me. I hate to ever pass anyone back in a TT, as if they catch you for that much then they're clearly faster. But this guy slowed down a lot after he went by. Hey, it happens. Sometimes the carrot motivates you to push a little too hard. Plus, I was perhaps underpacing a bit, hoping for a strong second half.
I passed him back. Not wanting to be a PITA dick, I went harder, asserting myself as much as possible so as not to get in his way. I pulled out the required 30 meter gap. This kid was obviously a real racer and there was never any chance of me taking my 30 seconds back, and with some big rollers on the final stretch I figured he'd blow back by me again. Which he did, but not until pretty close to the end. Both of us died a bit on the longest roller, but he pulled out 8-10 seconds by the finish. Afterward I apologized for passing him back, but he said no problem, as I pushed it hard and I think he drew some extra effort out of having to continue chasing me. Jerome never caught me but this self-described "poor time trialist" still beat me handily, so I think I was 4th among the night's "non-aero/?" group. In the results archives, there are some unbelievable non-aero times. I'd like to go back again, sub-23 seems like a reasonable non-aero goal, or at least solidly on the other side of 40 kph average. Maybe on a steel frame and box wheels.
When I got home I had an email from Colin that he'd sent late in the work day, asking if I was going to the Dover TT. Doh! Dover only runs once a month, and I was thinking it was the second Wednesday, not the first. The Dover guy does not charge an entry fee, so I could have saved $10. NEBC does a good job though, and the fields they get over the course of the summer are much deeper, so as a performance benchmark it's probably the best TT in the area. You should try it at least once this summer. Thanks for reading.
NEBC is highly organized. The TT website includes all kinds of details about where to park, where to pee, how to sign in, etc. They even have pictures for those of marginal literacy. Of course, I'd been to this event before a decade or two ago, so I ignored all this, parked in the wrong lot (who knew the Old North Bridge had two parking lots?). Did a warmup lap of the course with this kid Jerome from IF, who also parked in the wrong lot. Jerome just sits totally PRO on his bike. I'm used to riding with fat, high-barred masters who don't look so poised in the saddle... We finished our familiarization lap and then wondered why there was nobody else in the lot and no registration table visible, but eventually we figured out that everything was on the other side of the river, about a mile from the course. This was due to the New North Bridge being closed for rebuilding and thus about to become the even Newer North Bridge. We got there in time though, and they even had a riders meeting.
I can't really say I warmed up properly, just the pre-lap and a few jumps, but no real efforts. They seemed to be running late too, because when I rolled to staging I should have had very short wait but there were over twenty riders queued up to go off at 30 second intervals. The race org is very uptight about riders warming up in the road near staging because it's a high traffic area and the townies are already pissy about continuing to permit this event, so I was a good doobee and just stood there like everybody else, getting cold and de-prepped for ten minutes before toeing the line. With all the waiting, I uncharacteristically forgot to start my timer, which I normally do when my minute person rolls off. I remembered about a kilometer into it, oh well.
The course is fast. The first four miles are almost totally flat. The road is not that wide and traffic is moderate, so you get a little draft. Now to the question mark. As you can see on the results, I have a question mark in the "aero/non-aero" column. I can only presume that the start line dude with the clipboard gives you the once over and makes a decision whether you are "aero" or "non-aero." I was riding my new Madone exactly as it came out of the box, no clipons. Now, I don't think you could ever call yourself "cannibal" unless you're riding a steel frame and box-section tubular wheels, so my carbon monocoque and bladed spoke, 30mm alloy rim wheels (hard for me to believe my new "heavy" clinchers have only 16 spokes) clearly does not qualify. But I was rockin' the vintage Ekimov Panasonic-Sportlife jersey, no skinsuit. I can only guess that my slightly aero wheels and taped up helmet (which is a triple duty modification for warmth, bug protection, and aerodynamics) left my aero/non-aero status in question.
So anyway, wanting to work on my pacing, I did not go out too hard. I'm not used to running an 11/23 cassette, so when I got to four cogs over I was thinking I was in the 50x15 but it's really the 14. On my TT bike all aero I usually try to turn a 54x15 or 14 on the flats. I like to TT at 95-100 rpm. There are a few little rollers down at the end of the first stretch, so I did shift up and down a few times, but did not stand up at all. I was wearing my HRM on my wrist, so I could not read it while riding in the drops, and did not have any speed sensors. At the four mile mark the course goes through the Carlisle rotary before heading downhill a bit. Then there was some wind on the flatter stretch of Route 225. I was hurting here and maybe I backed off too much. Jerome had started two riders behind me, thus one minute back, and between us at 30 seconds was another kid riding cannibal. It's great to see good riders hitting the TT's on road bikes. The way life should be...
So the other kid, who I think is EVC, passes me on 225, so he's taking 4 seconds/kilometer out of me. I hate to ever pass anyone back in a TT, as if they catch you for that much then they're clearly faster. But this guy slowed down a lot after he went by. Hey, it happens. Sometimes the carrot motivates you to push a little too hard. Plus, I was perhaps underpacing a bit, hoping for a strong second half.
I passed him back. Not wanting to be a PITA dick, I went harder, asserting myself as much as possible so as not to get in his way. I pulled out the required 30 meter gap. This kid was obviously a real racer and there was never any chance of me taking my 30 seconds back, and with some big rollers on the final stretch I figured he'd blow back by me again. Which he did, but not until pretty close to the end. Both of us died a bit on the longest roller, but he pulled out 8-10 seconds by the finish. Afterward I apologized for passing him back, but he said no problem, as I pushed it hard and I think he drew some extra effort out of having to continue chasing me. Jerome never caught me but this self-described "poor time trialist" still beat me handily, so I think I was 4th among the night's "non-aero/?" group. In the results archives, there are some unbelievable non-aero times. I'd like to go back again, sub-23 seems like a reasonable non-aero goal, or at least solidly on the other side of 40 kph average. Maybe on a steel frame and box wheels.
When I got home I had an email from Colin that he'd sent late in the work day, asking if I was going to the Dover TT. Doh! Dover only runs once a month, and I was thinking it was the second Wednesday, not the first. The Dover guy does not charge an entry fee, so I could have saved $10. NEBC does a good job though, and the fields they get over the course of the summer are much deeper, so as a performance benchmark it's probably the best TT in the area. You should try it at least once this summer. Thanks for reading.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Aggression
The originally planned title for this was something like "Screwing the pooch at Jiminy Peak" but after today I decided on the change. I've been back to being a regular competitor on the New England USCF road circuit for six seasons now, not counting this one. During that time I've gradually and consistently improved my fitness and competitiveness. No wins (except for the Mt A TT), a few podiums, and a bunch of lesser placings are all I've got to show for my efforts. Good thing I'm process-oriented. For anyone who's new or who hasn't been paying attention, I raced a lot from '87 to '95, got hurt doing cx, started going to night school, faded almost completely out of the sport by '98, gained 40 lbs, finished school, and started racing again in 2003.
Most of the off years I still dragged myself down to Wompatuck a few times each summer, so I wasn't totally out of it. 190 became my new "fighting/summer" weight. In 2003, I'd made my way to the bright side of 190, but svelte I was not. Nor was I 45 yet, which meant racing in the 35-44 group. Now I know you could all list examples of 50+ mutants who still kick younger rider's asses, but by and large age groups exist for a reason, and being on the low end of your group is much more pleasant than the other way around. So we have a 43 year old fat guy returning to the sport against the usual suspects of New England master's racing. This is a recipe for survival mode at best, and certainly not the racing style one might reasonably expect from a guy who calls himself "solobreak."
Let us continue by momentarily diverting our attention to demographics. After all, you're probably reading this on Monday morning and are really hungry for some blog fodder, so I may as well ramble a bit. It's no secret that the 45+ category is one of the most populous right now, at least in our area. It was not always this way. When I (and many of my current 45+ comrades) were younger, the Cat 3 fields in New England were huge. We were never combined with the 4s. Races used to routinely close out before race day (and this was with mail-in registration). We had 175 rider fields at Fitchburg. A side-effect of this was that successful breakaways were very rare. The shear size of the fields, and the resulting desire of everyone to stay near the front, led to high speeds. And of course then as probably now, there was a "chase everything" mentality that prevailed. Most races, unless they finished on a big climb, ended in field sprints. But that didn't stop some of us from trying, and occasionally succeeding in a "senseless" breakaway.
Another side effect of this was the start of the 30+ category, which has since mostly faded away. Really it never took hold, but some races had it, and most of the 30-34 guys who were really good scoffed at it and continued to race in the 1/2 Pro field. That left the door open for guys like me, and also generally produced more reasonable field sizes where attacks and breaks stood a better chance of working. My "coach" and mentor, Francois Von Beek, always encouraged (demanded) that I attack. He knew I couldn't sprint. Some saw my racing style as "stupid" because I was a training race hero, and rarely won on the weekends, but I knew better. If I sat in and waited on the sprints, I'd never win. Rarely is better than never last time I checked...
So now you know where the blog title comes from. "Unsuccessful Solo Break" might be more fitting, but on those rare and cherished occasions when things work out, well, I guess you have to be there to know how that feels. Ditto for the heartbreak of losing. I've been there too. Sometimes you get put out of your misery early. Other times you get taken down by the charging field 50 meters from the line, after a brilliant 10k solo. You go from being so close to the win you can taste it, to tasting your blood and peeling the melted lycra out of your blistered and bloodied skin. That's probably another one of those things you have to have been there for in order to appreciate.
As the overweight comeback not-so-kid, in 2003-2004 I was forced to adopt a somewhat more conservative approach to competing. Hanging on for dear life would be an accurate description of some of my first races back. But like I started off saying, I've been slowly and steadily improving. Plus I passed 45 and got to race with a group that was/is mostly still as old or older than me, which can't hurt. On occasion I've even been aggressive too, going up the road, with some minor success. Mostly though, in races when I wasn't expendable for the benefit of a team mate, I've hung back and tried to finish strong. For me, races like Jiminy Peak, Monson, Sunapee, and even Bow, races with hill finishes, but no real mountains to cross, these are the ones where I stand a chance. And sure enough, I've amassed a bunch of top 10s. But who cares about top 10s? In masters racing, the podium is almost always up the road, and I've been too guarded to leave the security of the bunch.
Which gets us to the point of this entry. Jiminy Peak has always been a "good race for me" kind of race. I got my first win there, in the 1991 30+ district championships. I've been top 20ish the past few years, and top 10 last year. So of course, with my still steadily improving (at least I think) fitness, I was looking forward to Saturday's race. The field was pretty stacked, with large, strong teams from Keltic, Bethel, Arc-en-Ciel, OA, Dino's and others, as well as strong individuals and small squads. I had the Cronoman, Timmy, and Billy C out with me for support. All of us have been riding decent. I greenlighted everyone to go in moves if they felt good, and figured that we should be attacking on the last lap if the situation warranted it. It was time to stop sitting on the hill sprints and start getting aggressive.
Alas, as I already said, master's racing is always up the road. AFAIK, Tom Butler (Keltic), Eric Pearce (Bethel) and Dave Kellogg (Arc-en-Ciel) attacked in the first kilometer. Pretty ballsy with 89k to go. It was not horrendously windy, but it wasn't calm either. They built a decent lead, but were still in sight most of the time. The first time up the big climb someone said they had 45 seconds. Keltic was all over the front sitting on moves by OA/Cyclemania, but with 60k to go the lead did not seem too dangerous. Me and the Cronoman crested the big hill in the top 20. We lost Timmy to a bad patch. Billy was put in difficulty but he managed to stay on. I contributed to an OA-Dino's chase for a few kilometers at the bottom of the descent, but I was quickly feeling it and retreated.
The second time up Route 7 was pretty cool. A big echelon formed at the front. I tried to get a second one going but everyone stayed left and eventually we got out of the crosswind when the road became sheltered. The pace was faster, until we got to the main climb, which we went up at a civilized pace. Everyone was watching Dimitri Buben (CCB) and John Funk (Cycle Fitness). We were told the break had 40 seconds. Impressive, as our lap was not that slow, yet they trio had not given much time back. This time me and Crono crested right there with Buben, Funk, the Keltic and Bethel police, etc, at the front. I took it easy on the descent, and back on Route 43 backpeddled while forcing down some gel and fluids. It was chilly and I hadn't been drinking enough. During this time Dimitri and some others slid off the front. Good move. I am not sure exactly how it happened. There were a lot of backmarkers from other fields in the road, and we could see pace cars up there, but I was unsure of the race situation. I was told by someone it was now two groups of three up the road, and others confirmed this.
Hitting Rt 7 I could not see what was going on up ahead. We were pretty slow this time too, and it stayed bunched up. One thing seemed sure, the race was lost. There were six guys up the road, and no pace cars in sight, meaning they were g-o-n-e. This is what I thought. Well fuck it, I may as well attack. There is a block on, and I'm not in the mood to wait on a fifty rider sprint for 7th. I go up the right gutter, and nobody cares enough to come with me. I get a few hundred meters quickly, but then I crest out and realize it's further to the finish than I thought. We had not hit the section of Route 7 with the climbing lane yet. 7 is pretty featureless and I always lose track of where we are. Fuck, this is going to hurt. I can see a pack of riders a few hundred meters more ahead. I do not see a pace car. It looks like more than six too. I figure it's a big group of backmarkers from an earlier field.
It turns out I figured wrong. That was the race! But I was dieing already, and a glance over the shoulder revealed a seriously strung out field racing up from behind. Oddly enough, it was the entire Keltic team setting the pace. I am not sure why this happened, but I can only assume they knew what was going on. Grouppo Dimitri, which was actually four riders, had made contact with the original break, and now the seven of them were right in front of us, ripe for a killing. But I had already emptied my gun. I got swarmed a few hundred meters before the turn onto the final climb at 2k to go. The break got it about 500 meters later.
I finished deep in the field. The race winner, and all the podiums came from the field, not the break. Only Kellogg hung on for a placing, coming home 8th. Of all the days to throw caution to the wind and not sit on the finale, I picked this one. Doh! I think I would have had good legs for the finish too. But what the hell, being aggressive means not being afraid to lose. Which brings us to today. As noted Friday, I entered the 45+ race at Blue Hills. Why the hell not? It's 11 miles from home, starting right next to the cube farm. I've logged hundreds of laps on the course in training. Duano was entered, but that was it from our team. Feeling tired with par-boiled legs, I put on my backpack and rode to the course. Just like riding to work, except with carbon wheels. And on a Sunday.
When I got there I changed into a skinsuit. The race was short, just 70k, so no need for pockets. I had my taped up helmet too, for aero advantage. I explained to Duano that my former cubemate Cindy lived just off the course, and she claimed that she would come out to watch the race for a few laps. Since she doesn't know anything about bike racing, I'd try to be at the front so she could see me. So I might be taking a flyer on the first lap...
Riding over to the course my legs were not horrible. I lined up on the front. We head out of the parking lot, and Doug Shepard (Everactive) immediately lights it up and TT's. I'm on him like a laser. The field is rolling sleepily and we get an instant gap. Score. Suddenly I feel good. We race past Cindy's street and she has not come out to watch. There will be hell to pay, but who cares, I'm off the front, this other guy is working and I'm riding my old stomping grounds training route with two police escorts. And we're flying. We go up the hill and it's just five more 12 k laps to go, woo-hoo.
On lap two Doug is breathing kind of hard, and his pulls are getting shorter. I'm on the new bike, which has no speed sensor, but I know we're going fast and I feel good. My HR is only around 150, probably depressed from yesterday. But I can hold this pace. Maybe someone will bridge. We don't have any Gearworks or Sunapee guy with us, so unless one of them comes up, I can't imagine this working. But right now it's working too well to quit. One of the police motorcycles drops off, obviously heading back to lead the pack. Wow. Then suddenly the wheel van appears behind us. I know what this means -- we have at least a minute gap.
I'm pulling on the downhills to allow Doug to rest, attempting to let him set his pace on the rises. But it's not effective. He's not riding tangents either, he's taking the edge of the road like we're out training. I'm having none of it, using every inch of our lane. We hit the climb and I can tell by his breathing this is not going to work. I feel I need him but if I ride his pace I'm afraid we'll be back in sight by the top. Buh-bye. I finish the lap in 16:37. I am now in solobreak mode. With 50k to go...
Lap three goes ok. I'm not dieing, and I'm riding the same gears as before. Doing some math in my head, I determine anything slower than 17:30 (~39 kph) has no chance of survival. I'm not getting splits from anyone, but some spectators keep telling me "they're not in sight," leading me to believe that they aren't far out of it either. I'm going at a six lap pace. No point in riding myself into oblivion just yet. Someone might bridge and I have to be ready. The third time up the hill I'm suffering a little. I stand in a spot where I had been sitting. The wheel car is still with me. The lap is 17:18, almost a minute slower than lap two, but maybe I have enough cushion. On the flats I feel OK, but with 36k and three more trips up the hill between me and the finish line, I have to gamble and hold the pace at a level that won't crack me. I save a little bit for the hill this time, but still I falter a bit, going all the way to my crossover gear to avoid standing. I can't see anyone behind, but suddenly the police moto comes past from behind, and rides up to speak with my moto before retreating. I am pretty sure I know what this means... Cresting at 17:39, I pass the 2 laps to go sign clicking up through the gears, resuming a high pace down past Houghton's Pond. A glance back reveals the inevitable though - the field is lined out behind; the solobreak party is about to end. I had one gel that I'd bummed from Duano tucked in my shorts (where of course I also put the empty wrapper), so I sat up, ate it, stretched my back, and surrendered.
At least I wasn't cooked. The field wasn't going much faster than I'd been going myself a few minutes before, so sitting in felt pretty easy. This lap was aggressive too, non-stop attacks and counterattacks. I even joined the fun. My legs were a touch crampy on the penultimate climb though, and nothing seemed to be getting away. We took one to go in 17 something. When we hit 138 I was still near the front. Peter Megdal (NEBC) and Mark Thompson (Sunapee) had a small lead, probably 10 seconds. I knew they were strong, and I thought I could bridge. But the move didn't look that promising. I would need a huge lead to hold off the charging field the final time up the climb, and I'd probably cramp. Or so I reasoned. This few seconds of hesitation were all that were needed to kill my dreams of a decent finish once and for all. We started downhill and the field was swarming, but the two leaders put their heads down and disappeared. They must have motored. The field got all bunchy, curb to curb, kind of dicey as we were not moving fast enough to string things out at all. Everyone wants to be near the front, but nobody wanted to be at it. Gearworks finally managed to get Stevens and Bernard up there to try to reel in the break, but it was too little too late. Megdal and Thompson hung on to finish 1-2. Our crazy bunchy field rambled on all the way to the hill, where the officials started honking crazily at the slightest yellow line violation. I tried to squeeze left and right but was mired in the massed bunch where just about everyone was trying to do the same thing. My quads were cramping whenever I stood anyway. It opened up in the final meters where we had the whole road, but I was totally out of it and finished 30th.
I may have had my best form in years this weekend, as I planned. And it was "wasted" on two "stupid" moves. But I'm going to be happy with it. I don't need another 7th place finish. I needed to start racing more aggressively, and I did. Thanks for reading.
Most of the off years I still dragged myself down to Wompatuck a few times each summer, so I wasn't totally out of it. 190 became my new "fighting/summer" weight. In 2003, I'd made my way to the bright side of 190, but svelte I was not. Nor was I 45 yet, which meant racing in the 35-44 group. Now I know you could all list examples of 50+ mutants who still kick younger rider's asses, but by and large age groups exist for a reason, and being on the low end of your group is much more pleasant than the other way around. So we have a 43 year old fat guy returning to the sport against the usual suspects of New England master's racing. This is a recipe for survival mode at best, and certainly not the racing style one might reasonably expect from a guy who calls himself "solobreak."
Let us continue by momentarily diverting our attention to demographics. After all, you're probably reading this on Monday morning and are really hungry for some blog fodder, so I may as well ramble a bit. It's no secret that the 45+ category is one of the most populous right now, at least in our area. It was not always this way. When I (and many of my current 45+ comrades) were younger, the Cat 3 fields in New England were huge. We were never combined with the 4s. Races used to routinely close out before race day (and this was with mail-in registration). We had 175 rider fields at Fitchburg. A side-effect of this was that successful breakaways were very rare. The shear size of the fields, and the resulting desire of everyone to stay near the front, led to high speeds. And of course then as probably now, there was a "chase everything" mentality that prevailed. Most races, unless they finished on a big climb, ended in field sprints. But that didn't stop some of us from trying, and occasionally succeeding in a "senseless" breakaway.
Another side effect of this was the start of the 30+ category, which has since mostly faded away. Really it never took hold, but some races had it, and most of the 30-34 guys who were really good scoffed at it and continued to race in the 1/2 Pro field. That left the door open for guys like me, and also generally produced more reasonable field sizes where attacks and breaks stood a better chance of working. My "coach" and mentor, Francois Von Beek, always encouraged (demanded) that I attack. He knew I couldn't sprint. Some saw my racing style as "stupid" because I was a training race hero, and rarely won on the weekends, but I knew better. If I sat in and waited on the sprints, I'd never win. Rarely is better than never last time I checked...
So now you know where the blog title comes from. "Unsuccessful Solo Break" might be more fitting, but on those rare and cherished occasions when things work out, well, I guess you have to be there to know how that feels. Ditto for the heartbreak of losing. I've been there too. Sometimes you get put out of your misery early. Other times you get taken down by the charging field 50 meters from the line, after a brilliant 10k solo. You go from being so close to the win you can taste it, to tasting your blood and peeling the melted lycra out of your blistered and bloodied skin. That's probably another one of those things you have to have been there for in order to appreciate.
As the overweight comeback not-so-kid, in 2003-2004 I was forced to adopt a somewhat more conservative approach to competing. Hanging on for dear life would be an accurate description of some of my first races back. But like I started off saying, I've been slowly and steadily improving. Plus I passed 45 and got to race with a group that was/is mostly still as old or older than me, which can't hurt. On occasion I've even been aggressive too, going up the road, with some minor success. Mostly though, in races when I wasn't expendable for the benefit of a team mate, I've hung back and tried to finish strong. For me, races like Jiminy Peak, Monson, Sunapee, and even Bow, races with hill finishes, but no real mountains to cross, these are the ones where I stand a chance. And sure enough, I've amassed a bunch of top 10s. But who cares about top 10s? In masters racing, the podium is almost always up the road, and I've been too guarded to leave the security of the bunch.
Which gets us to the point of this entry. Jiminy Peak has always been a "good race for me" kind of race. I got my first win there, in the 1991 30+ district championships. I've been top 20ish the past few years, and top 10 last year. So of course, with my still steadily improving (at least I think) fitness, I was looking forward to Saturday's race. The field was pretty stacked, with large, strong teams from Keltic, Bethel, Arc-en-Ciel, OA, Dino's and others, as well as strong individuals and small squads. I had the Cronoman, Timmy, and Billy C out with me for support. All of us have been riding decent. I greenlighted everyone to go in moves if they felt good, and figured that we should be attacking on the last lap if the situation warranted it. It was time to stop sitting on the hill sprints and start getting aggressive.
Alas, as I already said, master's racing is always up the road. AFAIK, Tom Butler (Keltic), Eric Pearce (Bethel) and Dave Kellogg (Arc-en-Ciel) attacked in the first kilometer. Pretty ballsy with 89k to go. It was not horrendously windy, but it wasn't calm either. They built a decent lead, but were still in sight most of the time. The first time up the big climb someone said they had 45 seconds. Keltic was all over the front sitting on moves by OA/Cyclemania, but with 60k to go the lead did not seem too dangerous. Me and the Cronoman crested the big hill in the top 20. We lost Timmy to a bad patch. Billy was put in difficulty but he managed to stay on. I contributed to an OA-Dino's chase for a few kilometers at the bottom of the descent, but I was quickly feeling it and retreated.
The second time up Route 7 was pretty cool. A big echelon formed at the front. I tried to get a second one going but everyone stayed left and eventually we got out of the crosswind when the road became sheltered. The pace was faster, until we got to the main climb, which we went up at a civilized pace. Everyone was watching Dimitri Buben (CCB) and John Funk (Cycle Fitness). We were told the break had 40 seconds. Impressive, as our lap was not that slow, yet they trio had not given much time back. This time me and Crono crested right there with Buben, Funk, the Keltic and Bethel police, etc, at the front. I took it easy on the descent, and back on Route 43 backpeddled while forcing down some gel and fluids. It was chilly and I hadn't been drinking enough. During this time Dimitri and some others slid off the front. Good move. I am not sure exactly how it happened. There were a lot of backmarkers from other fields in the road, and we could see pace cars up there, but I was unsure of the race situation. I was told by someone it was now two groups of three up the road, and others confirmed this.
Hitting Rt 7 I could not see what was going on up ahead. We were pretty slow this time too, and it stayed bunched up. One thing seemed sure, the race was lost. There were six guys up the road, and no pace cars in sight, meaning they were g-o-n-e. This is what I thought. Well fuck it, I may as well attack. There is a block on, and I'm not in the mood to wait on a fifty rider sprint for 7th. I go up the right gutter, and nobody cares enough to come with me. I get a few hundred meters quickly, but then I crest out and realize it's further to the finish than I thought. We had not hit the section of Route 7 with the climbing lane yet. 7 is pretty featureless and I always lose track of where we are. Fuck, this is going to hurt. I can see a pack of riders a few hundred meters more ahead. I do not see a pace car. It looks like more than six too. I figure it's a big group of backmarkers from an earlier field.
It turns out I figured wrong. That was the race! But I was dieing already, and a glance over the shoulder revealed a seriously strung out field racing up from behind. Oddly enough, it was the entire Keltic team setting the pace. I am not sure why this happened, but I can only assume they knew what was going on. Grouppo Dimitri, which was actually four riders, had made contact with the original break, and now the seven of them were right in front of us, ripe for a killing. But I had already emptied my gun. I got swarmed a few hundred meters before the turn onto the final climb at 2k to go. The break got it about 500 meters later.
I finished deep in the field. The race winner, and all the podiums came from the field, not the break. Only Kellogg hung on for a placing, coming home 8th. Of all the days to throw caution to the wind and not sit on the finale, I picked this one. Doh! I think I would have had good legs for the finish too. But what the hell, being aggressive means not being afraid to lose. Which brings us to today. As noted Friday, I entered the 45+ race at Blue Hills. Why the hell not? It's 11 miles from home, starting right next to the cube farm. I've logged hundreds of laps on the course in training. Duano was entered, but that was it from our team. Feeling tired with par-boiled legs, I put on my backpack and rode to the course. Just like riding to work, except with carbon wheels. And on a Sunday.
When I got there I changed into a skinsuit. The race was short, just 70k, so no need for pockets. I had my taped up helmet too, for aero advantage. I explained to Duano that my former cubemate Cindy lived just off the course, and she claimed that she would come out to watch the race for a few laps. Since she doesn't know anything about bike racing, I'd try to be at the front so she could see me. So I might be taking a flyer on the first lap...
Riding over to the course my legs were not horrible. I lined up on the front. We head out of the parking lot, and Doug Shepard (Everactive) immediately lights it up and TT's. I'm on him like a laser. The field is rolling sleepily and we get an instant gap. Score. Suddenly I feel good. We race past Cindy's street and she has not come out to watch. There will be hell to pay, but who cares, I'm off the front, this other guy is working and I'm riding my old stomping grounds training route with two police escorts. And we're flying. We go up the hill and it's just five more 12 k laps to go, woo-hoo.
On lap two Doug is breathing kind of hard, and his pulls are getting shorter. I'm on the new bike, which has no speed sensor, but I know we're going fast and I feel good. My HR is only around 150, probably depressed from yesterday. But I can hold this pace. Maybe someone will bridge. We don't have any Gearworks or Sunapee guy with us, so unless one of them comes up, I can't imagine this working. But right now it's working too well to quit. One of the police motorcycles drops off, obviously heading back to lead the pack. Wow. Then suddenly the wheel van appears behind us. I know what this means -- we have at least a minute gap.
I'm pulling on the downhills to allow Doug to rest, attempting to let him set his pace on the rises. But it's not effective. He's not riding tangents either, he's taking the edge of the road like we're out training. I'm having none of it, using every inch of our lane. We hit the climb and I can tell by his breathing this is not going to work. I feel I need him but if I ride his pace I'm afraid we'll be back in sight by the top. Buh-bye. I finish the lap in 16:37. I am now in solobreak mode. With 50k to go...
Lap three goes ok. I'm not dieing, and I'm riding the same gears as before. Doing some math in my head, I determine anything slower than 17:30 (~39 kph) has no chance of survival. I'm not getting splits from anyone, but some spectators keep telling me "they're not in sight," leading me to believe that they aren't far out of it either. I'm going at a six lap pace. No point in riding myself into oblivion just yet. Someone might bridge and I have to be ready. The third time up the hill I'm suffering a little. I stand in a spot where I had been sitting. The wheel car is still with me. The lap is 17:18, almost a minute slower than lap two, but maybe I have enough cushion. On the flats I feel OK, but with 36k and three more trips up the hill between me and the finish line, I have to gamble and hold the pace at a level that won't crack me. I save a little bit for the hill this time, but still I falter a bit, going all the way to my crossover gear to avoid standing. I can't see anyone behind, but suddenly the police moto comes past from behind, and rides up to speak with my moto before retreating. I am pretty sure I know what this means... Cresting at 17:39, I pass the 2 laps to go sign clicking up through the gears, resuming a high pace down past Houghton's Pond. A glance back reveals the inevitable though - the field is lined out behind; the solobreak party is about to end. I had one gel that I'd bummed from Duano tucked in my shorts (where of course I also put the empty wrapper), so I sat up, ate it, stretched my back, and surrendered.
At least I wasn't cooked. The field wasn't going much faster than I'd been going myself a few minutes before, so sitting in felt pretty easy. This lap was aggressive too, non-stop attacks and counterattacks. I even joined the fun. My legs were a touch crampy on the penultimate climb though, and nothing seemed to be getting away. We took one to go in 17 something. When we hit 138 I was still near the front. Peter Megdal (NEBC) and Mark Thompson (Sunapee) had a small lead, probably 10 seconds. I knew they were strong, and I thought I could bridge. But the move didn't look that promising. I would need a huge lead to hold off the charging field the final time up the climb, and I'd probably cramp. Or so I reasoned. This few seconds of hesitation were all that were needed to kill my dreams of a decent finish once and for all. We started downhill and the field was swarming, but the two leaders put their heads down and disappeared. They must have motored. The field got all bunchy, curb to curb, kind of dicey as we were not moving fast enough to string things out at all. Everyone wants to be near the front, but nobody wanted to be at it. Gearworks finally managed to get Stevens and Bernard up there to try to reel in the break, but it was too little too late. Megdal and Thompson hung on to finish 1-2. Our crazy bunchy field rambled on all the way to the hill, where the officials started honking crazily at the slightest yellow line violation. I tried to squeeze left and right but was mired in the massed bunch where just about everyone was trying to do the same thing. My quads were cramping whenever I stood anyway. It opened up in the final meters where we had the whole road, but I was totally out of it and finished 30th.
I may have had my best form in years this weekend, as I planned. And it was "wasted" on two "stupid" moves. But I'm going to be happy with it. I don't need another 7th place finish. I needed to start racing more aggressively, and I did. Thanks for reading.
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