Forward Bite Bytes

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

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

Blast from the Past

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



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



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

Just looking at the pictures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keeping it classy in New Hampshire

Solobreak, surrounded by the natural beauty of the Live Free or Die state. Thanks for reading.

Providence Cyclocross Festival presented by Interbike

What if they held a cross race and nothing happened? OK, maybe that sounds negative, but it's not supposed to be. I'll leave that in the capable hands of others. The weekend of racing in nearby Providence was pretty great, but I have to characterize my experience there as rather uneventful. The nearby part was a huge bonus. The weather was super nice both days too. The venue is good and with the Interbike thing going on there was a little extra atmosphere, but all in all the whole thing was just like Gloucester. Same guy designed both courses both days on both weekends, and all were nearly identical to one another (ok, I wasn't there on Sunday last week, but you get the idea). Other than the weather, all the memorable elements are exactly the same, right down to the uphill finishing straights with a slight bend to the left.

This was rounds 5 and 6 of the Verge series. I'd only done one, round 3 I guess, last Saturday, where I failed to make the top 25. Thus, I had no points in the series and was relegated to a starting lineup spot by registration order, way in the back. We had 70 riders in the 45+ on Saturday. All sorts of shit happened on the first lap, but I don't remember too much of it, because I raced the next day too; Saturday's data was almost completely overwritten by Sunday's. But it was not good. Here is what I remember: I didn't crash, I didn't flat, I followed some dude who attacked the numerous running sections like Edwin Moses until he blew, near the end I was closing in on Timmy, and I finished in 28th, 4:29 down on race winner Sammy Morse. The rest of the day was pretty fun as after some longish cooldown rides around the park I watched the races with my pit mechanic Il Brucie. No hurry to leave because I was taking a sweet homestay at the Masterson residence across the bridge in EPro, and dining at the casa Gewilli to boot. We roamed around the expo a little bit and tried to avoid eye contact with the vendors who were bored out of their minds and would talk your ear off if given half a chance.

Got the tour of Riverside on the way to Willi's house that night. Timmy and Garabed were staying there too. I had one 22 of Smiths. Brucie downed a 40 of OE 800. Timmy (with help from Willi) drank like four bottles of good wine, moving me up at least one spot for Sunday... Willi's dog Lucy was there too, very cool, but the family was at Disneyworld or something. So Sunday. Takes two minutes to get there from Brucie's house. I ate two donuts, then hit the course for a preride. Pretty much another version of the same course we've been racing on the past two weekends, but this time there was nearly zero running. This left several sections for recovery, as you could crank the power and then coast through some sweeping turns. Much better for me.

Again I had to line up in the back. This time I did a much better job of executing the Colin-approved "keep pedaling when everyone else starts coasting and setting up for the turn" move. I took about two dozen spots right there. Then at the first right even more, but then boom. Traffic jam. Lost six or eight right back. But I continued to be aggressive. Blew through the guys who must have had the early reg spots (the beauty of the line up by points is it actually puts the fast guys up front where they belong). One near miss when I got the bike perpendicular to my direction of movement on the muddy hill a few turns after the barriers, but mostly I was smooth. When I got back to the start pavement I'd cleared traffic, but there was NOBODY in sight ahead of me. The real race was apparently gone.

The rest of the race was a time trial for me. With no pressure from behind (huh-huh) I could concentrate and ride smooth and fast. I passed the Cronoman running with his bike. Lynchie had an issue too. I guess so did Keith Button. Then I saw all the officials and spectators looking and pointing toward the lake. Around the fast bend down there I saw Soup's lifeless body sprawled out prone on the the shore, over the snow fence. Turned out he'd fractured his leg and had to be carted out. So that was four guys who finished ahead of me at both my races so far this year gone by the wayside. By now I was passing lapped traffic. Some of the people I caught may have been racing for position, but I'm not sure. With one to go I was riding hard and came up on Brian McGuinness who was dicking with his chain, so I got him too. Finished in 19th.

Sunday's race felt way more aggressive and good to me. I attacked the course the entire way. If I am remembering this correctly, I executed a perfect "reverse slide" and did not get passed by anybody for the entire race, except for whatever happened in the first 1/4 lap bottleneck clusterphuck. Yet I was still exactly the same time behind the winner as on Saturday. And, if you put those with mechanical issues, those who drank four bottles of wine Saturday, as well as those who beat me on Saturday but were absent Sunday back in front of me, I'd have ended up in the exact same spot.

So there you have it. Sorry but I did not get a chance to stick around much on Sunday. Gewilli and G-Ride did a good job heckling me, and I could not return the favor because I flatted on my cooldown ride way out on the other side of the park. Talked to Feltslave before his race, but did not see that one either so I wonder what happened. At least now I have a handful of Verge points so if I do any more of these races then I won't have to start in the back row. And I registered for nationals. What the hell, I've never been to Oregon before, so it's got that going for it. Thanks for reading.

The Weak and Weary

This has been a long season but after reading Jonny's last post and now today Willi's 2500th I've got hopes of my master plan coming together. You see, where many of the others have been burning themselves to sweaty little nubs with doubled-up cx race weekends for the past month, I've had it pretty easy. At Wrentham a few weeks ago I was already hearing good competitors start to moan about training, life, late-night tire gluing, and of course racing in the mud and dealing with the aftermath. That's the part of cross that prevents me from being a crazed devotee like so many others. It's a good sport for bike shop employees to hit during the slow season, as they get boned by flat out weekend work during the spring road races. But for the rest of us, at least those with day jobs, the outlay of sweat equity exceeds what I'm willing to invest. At least to get serious anyway.

This season's schedule for cross is more packed than any in memory. I've got mostly single weekends planned around a few running races. But with Providence being so close, this weekend I'm going to try the double. I hope that everyone else is feeling just as cooked as Willi (who is also going to cook Saturday night, score). My training went decent this week, hence the Grinch image. Even with my light and loafy schedule, yesterday I wasn't feeling too energetic, and by 2 pm I still had not gone out to ride. Then I read Thom's comment about the cross video on Willi's blog, and decided hell, I may as well watch it. I have all that shit adblocked at my office but since I was telecommuting, I won't tell if you don't. Well I only made it through about the first five minutes but it was Nys (I think, I'm not a fanboy) grinding down a mucky straightway, cranking the power, winning the race, covered in slime from head to tow. Really though he was not grinding, he was on top of the gear. It reminded me of Jonny's dare-I-say-epic win last Saturday, when he had twenty seconds on second place, who was his team mate Kevin, who had another twenty seconds back to third. Yet Boldy was still in a fucking zone, drilling it, obviously "as hard as he could" like a time trial. I believe him when he says he never looked back, because if he had, even a nut like him would not go that hard with the win in the bank and another race the next day. But it was inspiring as hell just the same. And like Nys, he was on top of the gear. (sidenote to the rest of you: Nys, Page, riders like Jonny might hang 38/46 on their bikes with a 12/25 in the back, but they're going WAY FUCKING FASTER than you. Just sayin. Gear appropriately. More on this later, maybe).

Anyhow, after watching the Nys video, suddenly my heart and desire to train grew three sizes in an instant, just like the Grinch. Within minutes I was kitted up and out on the road, in a big gear, but on top of it, banging out an hour at just under threshold. I wanted to keep going, but with a double this weekend I of course shut it down and spun it out for the last half hour. That is not the point though. There is no point. Tomorrow never happens. It's all the same fucking day man. Thanks for reading. See you tomorrow.

Pain Faces

OK, this is blurry because I'm too cheap to buy the hi-res version. But this looks just like all my other running race pictures. I know I've got sweat in my eyes and all, but the level of suffering always looks beyond what I see in my cyclocross pictures. Running races are hard if you really try. Or maybe I just don't try hard enough in cross. Thanks for reading.

Just don't call it epic

Having chosen not to do the double this weekend, I should have had this up earlier just to make sure I was first. So yeah, I made my 2009 cyclocross season debut at Gloucester on Saturday. A lot of you talk about how proper 'cross season shouldn't start until October, but I walked the walk and waited for the calendar to flip to race. I did relent a bit and hit the Wrentham practice twice beforehand, just to make sure that I still suck at this. The two Wednesday night sessions also provided chances for me to see how my equipment is holding up. My cross bike is probably ten years old. I purchased it used at the start of the 2004 season, I think. The previous owner was a professional racer who had it custom built for him some years before that, and I'm not sure when. He's taller than me and has freakishly long arms, so this build doesn't fit me all that well. I like the tall seat tube, as it makes the bike easy to shoulder. In the old days of a "fist full of seatpost" this would have been considered spot on. Nowadays everyone rides the tiniest frame they can get and has 400mm of mountain bike seatpost sticking out. So my ride may not be what your eyes are used too, but it's not as oversized as it appears. The real issue though is the long top tube and front center on the bike makes me end up with too much rear weight bias, which doesn't help in the slow tight sections of the courses. It's good on fast bumpy stuff though.

Where was I? Oh yeah, driving to Gloucester at 6:00 am on Saturday. Flashback to 2004, and I got stuck in Salem Halloween traffic while coming home from this race. So they must have moved it up three weeks at some point. See? Calendar creep. I got to the venue and it was still dark out, yet there were a bunch of people already there riding the course. A fog horn blew out in the bay about every 30 seconds. It was raining. I'd heard horror stories about cranky evil officials not allowing preride at Catamount, and I did not want that to happen to me. For the record, the officials at Gloucester were totally fine, at least with me. All this crap about the "soul" of cyclocross and how cool and laid back the 'cross faithful are is a steaming pile of shit. These motherfuckers are wound up so tight worrying about their start and style it's sad. I'm thinking we need to start up a Bike Racing Internet Whiner Hall of Fame. There are one or two wonderboys who would be shoe-ins for a first ballot induction. You know who you are. And boo-hoo, but the rain kept the crowds away big time. The expo area was totally dead, and there were maybe 1/4 the normal spectator count. What good is your hand-picked style when nobody is there to see it?

Back to the warm up. The course was full of those tight turns that I'm not good at. And there were gallons of standing water at that hour. But it was not "epic" ok? Maybe the section from the first seawall, where the wind was howling like the last ten minutes of "A Perfect Storm" to the run-up was bordering on "epic" but thirty seconds out of a ten minute lap doesn't cut it. The rest of it was just a rainy assed cross course with a hundred tight turns. I did one lap, got my number, got the fuck off the course while the Cat 4 race staged, and retreated to my vehicle. No sign of the Cronoman or my other mates, so I camped out in my front seat and installed some spikes on my shoes. Eventually those guys showed up, and Timmy brought a popup tent trailer. Sweet. Saved the day actually. The wind and wet had only increased and standing outside was rather miserable. The camper gave us a nice place to sit and get ready. I even did some pushups in there to get warm.

The rest of the morning was equally not epic. We could see some of the early racing out the door of the camper. Later we got out for two more warmup laps between races. It was getting greasy. The Cronoman gave me a Tufo tubular front tire, one of the new ones that the Dugast/FMB snobs still turn their powdered noses up at. I had an older Tufo on the rear, the kind they treat like a lepper and only dab at with ten foot poles. Whatever. I pumped them up to the high 30s too. Go ahead and roll your eyes along with your $150 designer tires that don't glue on straight and fall apart after two months. Too much pressure means a slip or a slide here or there. Not enough means a half lap walk back to the pit. That's my story and I'll stick to it. Yes I know your Rhinos made your bike handle like it was "on rails." I heard that from a dozen people. Well you probably were in a six inch deep rut at the time, good as rails.

Clothing: I went with a long sleeve skinsuit, and under it an ancient Peal Izumi techfabric sleeveless topped with a Merino wool t-shirt that I got from the 'rats lastest ebay venture. Two pairs of socks to make sure my Time MTB shoes stayed tight. No glasses, just a cycling cap under my taped up helmet. I wore long finger gloves, wind and waterproof. Never thought about the temperature the rest of the race, did not overheat, and only got cold when I had someone hose me off at the post-race bike wash. Ready, set, go. Except I was putting wheels in the pit when they called for staging and when I got there a few rows were already lined up. I took the first available table, three rows back. Good enough. It was raining lightly, the wind was blowing, all decidedly not epic still. Now we go for real.

Better than average solobreak cross start, at least up the pavement. Nobody surging past, not blowing up, no drama. Onto the grass things turned sour. I was stuck up on the wheel of an EVC guy who seemed kind of fish out of watery. Of course, maybe it was just because I was closer to the front than normal, which meant more eager racers charging from behind, but I lost numerous spots. Lynchie, Kevin C, and Keith B were all lined up right in front of me and now they were a turn ahead. Made some time on the seawall autobahn and caught up to Keith on the runup, even giving him a few pats on the back to try to coax more speed out of him. The maze behind the registration building saw a few riders drop by the wayside with fallen and I can't get up syndrome, but not as many as I'd hoped/expected. It was greasy and challenging, but very much NOT EPIC. I thought that part kind of sucked to be honest, especially the uphill right hairpin just before the barrier section.

Nothing happens for a while... Or I don't remember. Ran the entire section behind the backstop and got on the back of a nice train for the pavement, but that didn't matter so much this year as it was a rippin' tailwind. I was with grouppo Keith at that point. Then Soups came tearing through all of us on his way to a top ten. With a friggin' insulin pump hardwired to his hip under his skinsuit. Mutherfucker. Somehow I lost contact with that group. Then Lynchie came blowing by me. Not sure how he got behind me. Retrospective analysis shows my first lap was done in 10:45, the second in 11:15, the third 11:45 and the fourth 11:20. Or something like that. I thought the second lap sucked but I did pass a few people who might have gone out too hard. The third lap I was pacing but also made a few mistakes, and some of them passed me back. Jeff from Hagen's ride and Brian M were in this mix, along with my team mate Timmy who blew by me down by the sandpit. I went to school on his lines. At this point in the day the standing water was mostly splashed aside, and the tight lines were 50% rototilled and getting greasier. This left half the course as firmer grass, but the problem was the wind was blowing the course tape really bad, creating quite an entaglement risk. Riding the stakes meant you might end up like a dolphin in a tuna net (Gloucester is not a tuna town really though, is it?). At one point Timmy and I entered a section where the tape was completely across the course but we were saved by Bill Thompson (Keltic) who was walking to the pit with a broken chain and he very gentlemanly held up the tape so we could pass under. Classy, just like their kits.

I sat on the rivals and made them tow me up toward Timmy as much as possible but I got ridden off behind the backstop. This section was not kind to me all day. Then we took the one to go bell and I tried to empty the tank. I thought I was going well and I reeled in one guy, then tried to get to Timmy but he endoed head first into the muck on the little downhill heading to the pit. He was OK so I kept going and got up to Jeff but then I f'd up the backstop section again and he re-passed me. I tried to make a last ditch sprint and my day almost ended horribly when I lost the front wheel for a second in the high speed turn out onto the pavement. That would have hurt but since I'm practically a magician on a fucking bike I kept it up and resumed my "sprint" which didn't get me even close to passing Jeff. I ended up 27th, five minutes down on the winner. The Race Predictor had me in 22nd, so I have to give myself a C minus for a decidedly non-epic performance. Thank goodness for the 45+ category.

Because of the rain I did not take any pictures, but the rest of the day was pretty fucking sweet, although not epic. Spent the next three races sitting in the camper with friends new and old. Timmy had it stocked with frosty mugs and a bunch of 22's of Belgian Ale. He even had a stove and made pesto pasta with sausage and hot coffee. When all that was gone I busted out a 40 of Schaefer that I'd brought for the Link guys but never found them. Timmy and Crono were racing on Sunday too so they headed home to get dry, and I staggered off. In the parking lot I bumped into both Reuter on his way to the pro race start, and the legendary Paul Nixon of race announcer fame, who insisted on buying me beers for the rest of the day. I had a small run-in with Gloucester's finest who objected to my taking beer out of the beer tent and throwing it at Reuter as he raced past, but my smooth negotiating skills quickly diffused the situation and I went back behind the fence for another beer. Danish champ Joachim Parbo even tried to snatch a brew out of Paul's hand. That's PRO, taking beer feeds when you're in 5th. By then the wind had died down, it stopped raining, and the muck was more like peanut butter than the soup we raced in. Not epic at all. But those guys were filthy.

Heh-heh, if you made it this far, you're not G-Ride. If you want to see more, VeloNews has a highlight reel. You can see for yourself how epic it was not:

My Sunday was also not epic. I recovered from the festivities, did a few hours of tempo on my road bike, hit the gym for an hour to work on my douche abs, then slowly completed my first 10 mile trail run in almost a year.

Don't give up on your blog. Keep writing, even if it sucks. Like this entry. Thanks for reading.